#I think maybe she could have worded the statement better or thrown in an “I should know” or smth

[stargleam-star]

Cinderpelt bestie ilu but you are one to talk

[egcdeath]

spectator sport

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: you and joel are the most competitive parents in your daughters’ soccer league. as it turns out, it’s not so easy being enemies when your daughters become best friends.

word count: 4.8k

warnings: canon divergent (no apocalypse yay!), rivals(?) to lovers, they don’t really like each other at the start but they also kinda do?, fluff, realizing feelings, domestic moments, yearning, allusions to a divorce 

author’s note: tlou is an angsty masterpiece, but sometimes all i want is a little lighthearted fun. is this the most in character thing?? no! is it more fun to imagine malewife joel in a world without cordyceps? well… you tell me ;) 

part two / series masterlist

“You got it, Chlo,” you cheered from behind a spray painted white line on a cleat-beaten grassy field. You balled your fists as you anxiously watched your daughter chase after the ball with a ferocity, herding it closer and closer towards the goal.

Your daughter had always had a passion for soccer, having watched professional matches with her father since the moment she could comprehend the game, and playing as soon as she could walk. Chloe had leaned even further into the sport following you and your ex-husband’s somewhat messy divorce, which left you in charge of bringing her to practices on Tuesdays, and games on Thursdays. It wasn’t like you minded much, you were always happy to support your daughter in whatever brought her joy. 

“Pass it! Pass it!” a loud, masculine voice interjected as the man next to you shouted at your daughter. 

Joel was not exactly your favorite parent on the team. While most of the parents enjoyed his presence, with his oddly wise advice for the girls and vocal support of the team (it also helped that he was quite easy on the eyes), something about the man had always thrown you off. Maybe it was his stubborn demeanor, or the way that he found a way to argue with you during every single game, without fail. 

Now, as far as soccer parents went, you weren’t the worst. You had your moments of snapping at a shitty referee after a particularly rough week at work, or possibly being a little too enthusiastic when something bad happened to the opposing team, but somehow Joel always managed to do or say something that provoked you just enough to go back and forth with him.

Chloe glanced over in his direction, briefly losing her footing in perfect time for a member of the opposing team to snatch the ball right out from under her. 

There was a collective groan from some of the more intense parents on your side, and you openly glared at them for indicating their disappointment with your daughter’s performance. But this wasn’t their fault. It was Joel’s.

“Great call out there,” you spat, shooting daggers in Joel’s direction as you took a few steps closer to where he was standing.

“Oh please,” you could practically hear the roll of his eyes in his words as he prepared to defend himself from your vitriol. “You think I wanted that to happen? I’m rooting for the whole team, not just my child.”

“I am not just rooting for my kid,” you delivered the statement a little too genuinely considering that the truth was probably closer to the opposite. “But you’re acting like you wouldn’t have felt the same way if it was your daughter.”

“I wouldn’t, ‘cause I understand that we’re probably gonna win,” Joel responded casually with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“Well, we would’ve had a much better shot at that if you weren’t so dead set on yelling shitty directions at the girls. Maybe leave that to their coach?”

“Hey, don’t curse! You’re forgetting there are kids around,” one of the fathers interjected, sounding far more offended than he needed to be. 

“Shut up, Mark,” you and Joel said at almost the same time, voices overlapping. Your little spats were yours and yours only, and you’d thought it was common knowledge by now not to interfere when any of the parents were getting into it—but especially with you two. 

As usual, your little back and forth seemed to go on and on. It had reached the point where you weren’t even really sure it had anything to do with the game as much as it had to do with the text you’d received from your ex just a few hours before the game, and whatever bullshit Joel had going on in his own life.

As much as you’d like to say you had self awareness, week after week the other parents shared knowing looks and snickered at your spectacle, yet being the laughing stock of the game didn’t deter either of you. 

This week’s argument was no different. 

To be quite honest, you hadn’t ever really paid attention to those who treated your spats as their mid-game entertainment. Right now, all you could think about was stupid Joel, shouting something stupid at your daughter, making her lose her focus, and miss out on a moment. 

Well, maybe you two had too much tunnel vision, as an uproar of cheers from your side pulled both of your attention from each other, and to the celebrating team on the field. Particularly, Chloe and Sarah high-fiving as they jogged away from the goal. 

Awkwardly the two of you clapped, cheering the names of your respective children. You didn’t miss the slight flush of red on Joel’s cheeks after missing the sight of his daughter working with yours to score, but you would be a liar if you didn’t admit that you felt the slightest hint of embarrassment too.

The game wrapped up soon after, with a quick discussion with the coach before the children were dismissed back to their families. As you waited for Chloe, you didn’t miss the newfound camaraderie between herself and Sarah, with the girls seemingly laughing at something as they made their way over to you. 

Despite whatever negative feelings you may have had towards Joel, you were always happy to see your daughter happy, and if that meant you may have to tolerate the father of her friend, maybe, just maybe, you would stop treating her games as an arena for your shouting matches.

——

As an involved parent, you were no stranger to school fundraisers. For the most part, you would enter a raffle and sit through a catered dinner as the school choir butchered school-appropriate songs, or purchase a handful of chocolate bars from whatever kid was knocking at your door. However, for this fundraiser, Chloe insisted that you volunteer. 

It was a simple bake sale occurring during school hours, and you had the day off. How bad could it really be?

Apparently, really bad. 

Just minutes after you arrived and began to set out the cash box and assorted baked goods, an unwelcome presence joined you, immediately bringing an uncomfortable tension into the atmosphere. If you knew when you signed up for this event that you would be working with Joel Miller, you could guarantee you wouldn’t have been so eager to register.

“Oh, hey,” you tensely acknowledged after a moment, glancing up at the man who was joining you, then back down at the bagged brownies in front of you.

“Hey,” he responded just a second too quickly, then went silent as he seemed to feel out the awkward tension in the room. After a few seconds of heavy silence that felt closer to an hour, he finally added, “Any ways can I help out?” 

Joel gestured to the table where you’d been organizing some of the baked goods. “Is there a method to your madness? Or just…” he trailed off awkwardly. 

It was obvious that he hadn’t expected to be working with you, likely not enthused to be spending a good portion of the day in such close proximity with someone he clearly did not like being around. The situation was almost comical—spending hours in a school with someone that you weren’t sure you could spend five minutes with without breaking into explicit argument. Obviously it would be inappropriate to argue with him in this setting, so you reasoned that for the duration of your shift, you could at least attempt to be cordial.

“Uh, they just want us to keep twenty items out at a time,” you shrugged. You could be cordial. You could just give Joel instructions, then only interact with him when need be. “And to keep gluten free items in this basket. Other than that, everything is set up. The first lunch period’s in about a half hour, so we won’t have much to do until then.”

“Got it,” Joel nodded, pulling out a rather squeaky chair before taking a seat next to you. 

The following few minutes could only be described as painfully awkward. You could cut the tension with a knife as you attempted to scroll nonchalantly on your phone, and Joel uncomfortably rubbed his hands on his jeans. This was going to be a long afternoon.

“So, what made you decide to help out today?” he asked out of the blue, drawing your attention away from your phone and over to his face.

Okay, you could handle small talk without getting into an argument. Besides, it’s not like you had anything to argue about. And to be frank, were your arguments really ever anything of substance? Sure, sometimes you both had done something slightly annoying or antagonistic, but your arguments never really felt that serious. 

“Chloe knew I had the day off and pretty enthusiastically suggested I come help,” you shrugged as almost a means to shake some of your nerves out. “How about you?”

“Pretty similar on my end. Sarah thought it would be a great idea for me to come in today and help out.” Joel looked at you, then back down at his watch, as if he didn’t want to maintain eye contact for too long. 

What a strange coincidence. Both of your daughters suggest you come to their school and work together on something.

You bit back whatever emotion it was involuntarily forming on your lips as it occurred to you that there was not a chance in Hell that this was accidental. Sarah and Chloe seemed to be quite close—you rarely heard a story that didn’t involve Sarah these days—and it was not unlike your daughter to plot schemes to try to fix relationships, a trait you and your ex-husband know a little too well. Clever, clever girls.

“What are the odds this was on purpose?” you asked, finally not restraining your entertainment by this whole situation. How ridiculous. And ironic. How ridiculously ironic. 

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say quite high,” Joel pressed his lips together and shook his head to himself. 

And while you’d rather have your child just communicate to you that you’re embarrassing her at games, or that she would prefer you to be at the very least amicable with her new best friend’s father, at the end of the day you couldn’t really blame her for pulling off an elaborate plot. Besides, your feud with Joel was silly and unnecessary, and part of you had always wondered if you hadn’t spent so much time arguing with him, if you two would actually get along. 

“If they did plan this, which they most certainly did, we have some smart kids,” you chuckled softly. “And maybe for the sake of them, we can attempt to be… friendly?”

Joel nodded slowly, “I can do friendly.”

A truce. Although the tension between you could still be cut with a knife, it felt nice to agree at the very least not to start a war at the little table. 

”Can we really blame them for setting us up?” you pondered aloud, “I mean, who would want their best friend’s parents to be enemies?”

“We’re enemies?” Joel asked with a lift of his brow.

“Well,” you paused. You weren’t really enemies. Despite all of the heated arguments, more times than not, Joel provided you a pretty safe outlet to vent your feelings without many repercussions. “Maybe… rivals?”

Joel shrugged, “Maybe. I know for certain I don’t see you as an enemy. Although, I apologize if I ever made you feel that way.”

Was Joel… apologizing? First, working together with the man, and now an apology. Maybe you should’ve gone and visited your psychic after all, with the unpredictable way your week was turning out. 

“I’m sorry,” he admitted, sounding quite genuine. You still weren’t completely sure that this was some weird joke, or that you’d woken up in a parallel dimension. “For always stirring the pot during games. It’s really quite-“

“Joel, it’s really not an issue,” earnestly and without a thought you interrupted the apologetic man, not wanting him to feel the guilt of being solely responsible for your little tussles. “I don’t take anything you say during games seriously. But I also want to apologize. It’s probably not the best to find little things to argue about every week.”

“I just wanted to be clear that I don’t hate you or anything,” he emphasized.

“Well I don’t want you to think I hate you either. If we’re being honest, it’s been pretty nice to be able to inconsequentially blow off steam every now and then. If anything, you’re doing me a favor.”

The corners of his lips turned up and into the slightest smile at your admission, and suddenly it had felt as if a weight had lifted off of your shoulders, and a bit more of the tension had dissolved in the room. 

“No hard feelings?” he offered. 

“None. Maybe the opposite,” you teased.

“Well, you know what they say about love and hate…”

“Now that may be a step too far.”

As it turned out, you and Joel made a pretty efficient bake sale team. Joel helped the kids pick out their baked goods, and you cashed the kids out. Sure, it wasn’t the most complex operation, but it felt nice to be in such a comfortable rhythm, especially considering the majority of your professional work you did alone. 

By the end of your shift, you were far less displeased with your situation. In fact, one might even say that you enjoyed spending your afternoon at the sale with your daughter’s best friend’s father. Maybe Chloe and Sarah’s plot to force you together wasn’t so terrible after all. 

Maybe Joel wasn’t so terrible after all.

——-

Every year, Autumn means one thing in your town: the annual fall festival.

It was honestly impressive the way that the entire community would go all out to put on such a large event in order to adequately honor the season, although part of you was convinced that the whole weekend-long event was an excuse for kids and adults alike to indulge in candy apples and Oreo turkeys and show off unnaturally large pumpkins. 

This year was no different, and as tradition, you and Chloe hauled yourselves down to the festival. It just happened to be your luck that as you were exiting the car, a pickup truck pulling into a parking space caught Chloe’s attention. 

“It’s Sarah!” your daughter informed you, practically skipping over to the vehicle. You followed after your daughter (who just so happened to be much faster than you) as she pulled her friend into a hug the very moment she popped out of the car. 

Joel hopped out as well, glancing at your children who already seemed to be walking off towards the fair, then back to you.

“How are you?” he asked, fidgeting with his keys as he put them into his pocket. It was clear that despite deciding not to feud anymore, things were still a little fresh and weird between you two. 

“Good, good,” you trailed off, nodding slowly as you slipped your hands into your own pockets and began to follow the two girls. Somehow, Joel ended up walking next to you as you trailed behind your daughters, and a light tension filled the air. 

Despite feeling slightly more comfortable with him after your shift together at the bake sale, it was clear that there was still some strange awkward energy between you two. After all, you had only made amends around a week ago, and prior to that, the majority of your interactions had included some sort of verbal altercation.

Walking into the fair, you maintained a less-than-comfortable silence as your daughters chatted and led the way to the field, filled with booths and stations as far as your eye could see. 

After a bit of aimless walking around, Chloe suggested a stop at a cornhole station. Watching your respective children play from the sidelines, you couldn’t help but crack a smile at the pure, unadulterated joy coming from your daughter as her and Sarah bantered with each other and tossed little bean bags. After ending with a tie, the pair began to walk away from where they were standing before pausing in front of you and Joel.

“You guys should play!” Sarah suggested enthusiastically, looking up at her father with an animated look in her eyes. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Joel trailed off and glanced at you as if he wanted to check how you were feeling on the matter. 

Sure, you didn’t have the upper body strength of someone who did construction for a living, but you were confident in your ability to kick some ass at corn hole. 

“C’mon, mom. And you too, Joel. It’s fun! It’ll be fun!” Chloe, ever the instigator, egged you on. 

“Alright, alright, since you insist,” you played up your reluctance, but happily accepted the red beanbags your daughter offered you. “It’s on, Miller,” you said as you approached the boards. 

“Just you wait,” he shot back, matching the overconfident, cocky persona you’d seemed to put on. “Before I embarrass you, I’ll be polite and let you go first.”

“How kind,” you playfully rolled your eyes, but focused long enough to toss the pack not too hard and not too light, and it slid on the board before landing in the hole. “What was that about embarrassing myself?”

Heckling Joel was unsurprisingly quite easy, considering the majority of your interactions prior to the past week had consisted of taking blows at each other. What you didn’t expect was how naturally the banter between you flowed when both of you were able to acknowledge that what you were saying really wasn’t serious at all.

“I think that was called luck. You still have plenty of time to embarrass yourself,” Joel didn’t even miss a beat as he tossed his bean bag with ease, landing right into the hole.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t impressed by his aim, and that your confidence hadn’t slightly faltered. For once in your life, it was possible that a man wasn’t over exaggerating his capabilities.

“Not bad, Joel,” you brushed his accomplishment off as you went to toss your next bag. This time, you weren’t so lucky, and your turn ended with your beanbag on the side of the board.

Chloe and Sarah dramatically reacted from the side, cheering or whooping whenever they saw fit. In a weird way, it was like your roles had been reversed. You and Joel were no longer the overenthusiastic spectators.

“What did I say? Luck,” Joel tutted. “Look, girls. I’ll show you how a real expert does it.”

Turning his back to you and the board, Joel attempted to toss his bag through the board, yet as he turned back around, he found it in the grass between your two boards. 

You, Sarah, and Chloe erupted into laughter at the irony of it all, so much so that Joel couldn’t even help but to join in. 

“Great job, ‘real expert’. Can you teach me your ways?”

You were somewhat stunned with the speed at which the ice had broken between you and Joel. Just a few minutes ago walking into the fair, you were nervous that the evening would be tense and awkward, yet here you were, teasing and laughing right along with each other.

Once your laughter subsided, you both tossed your last bags, with you making it in and Joel missing. After a gratuitous moment of celebration, Joel walked over to you and extended his hand for a handshake. You took up his offer, and firmly shook his hand. 

“Good job out there. You were a worthy opponent.”

“Thank you, Joel. I could say the same, but I won’t. Y’know, since you lost.”

This received a giggle from your kids as Joel abruptly dropped your hand, feigning offense. Maybe it had just been a long time since you’d received any physical affection at all, but the loss of his brief grip stirred something strange deep inside of you. 

Ew. No. 

You could barely tolerate this man a week ago. Sure, he wasn’t terrible to look at, and your daughter had seemed to take a liking to him, but you’d be remiss if you hadn’t thought about all of those charged arguments you’d had during soccer games. You had only just recently considered him to be anything more than a nuisance. 

“Where to next?” Joel asked, pulling you out of your head as the girls began to chatter and move in the direction of whatever booth had caught their eyes. 

That was a train of thought for another time. Maybe you’d let yourself think about it tonight night, as you attempt to fall asleep in a bed that’s far too big for one person and far too cold without someone else there. But not here, where the situation felt like a live wire, and a little too real for your liking. 

——

For the most part, Chloe’s soccer hobby took up more time than it gave you. The time it took going to practices, games, and tournaments quickly added up, on top of working an absurd amount to make sure that you could pay the mortgage and club fees on time and keep your child happy. The one exception to this general rule were team dinner nights—a night where you didn’t have to worry about spending an hour or two in the kitchen, giving you far more free time to do whatever you wanted.

This time around, Joel was hosting the dinner at his place. Clearly, Chloe was excited to be spending the evening at her closest friend’s home, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t the slightest bit curious to see what his place looked like.

And maybe, just maybe, you were the slightest bit excited to see Joel again. 

“Can we just go over early?” she requested as you checked the nearly done cookies in the oven. “Can I go over early to hang out with Sarah? Please?”

You practically could hear the puppy dog eyes in her voice, and when you looked over to her, she was indeed looking at you with a somewhat convincing sense of desperation. It was never easy for you to say no to your daughter, which she unfortunately knew. This time was no different. 

Sighing softly, you conceded, “have Sarah ask her dad if you can come by.”

Chloe cheered as she dashed off to the other room, seemingly reaching out to her friend who very quickly responded, as your daughter was back in just a few minutes with confirmation that she could come by any time. 

Quickly pulling the cookies out from the oven and throwing them into a container, you packed Chloe into the car, and hauled her over to her friend’s house. 

Chloe grabbed your Tupperware and skipped to the door, politely knocking and waiting patiently as you stayed seated in your car, just to make sure your daughter got in okay. As if she was awaiting Chloe’s arrival (and she most definitely was), Sarah pulled open the door the moment Chloe had put her knuckles to the door and welcomed her friend in. 

A somewhat muffled voice from inside called something out, leaving Sarah to relay it back to you: “Before you go, my dad wanted to know if you wanted to stop in for a drink?” she called out, just loud enough for you to hear from your open window.

Any other day, you would’ve said no. But for some reason, coming in and checking in just felt right today—so that was exactly what you did. It wasn’t like you and Joel weren’t in friendship territory with each other. 

While the girls ran off upstairs, you made your way to the kitchen to find a very stressed-looking Joel. He was in complete disarray as he checked the oven twice, then the fridge for something, then stirred something in a pot.

“Hey, you alright?” you asked right off the bat, setting down the container of cookies your daughter had given back to you onto his countertop. 

“Yeah, fine. Just didn’t think about how I was gonna cook all of this in time,” he moved away from the stovetop and towards a cupboard to grab you a glass. “Now what would you like to drink? I’ve got some coke, some juice, something a little stronger…?”

“Just water is fine,” you hummed, awkwardly standing by the counter. “Joel, do you want some help? You know, four hands are better than two. And I’m pretty competent when it comes to reading and following a recipe.”

“Please,” he barely let you finish speaking before he spoke, and desperation was practically dripping off his tone as he passed you a glass of water.

You weren’t sure you expected him to say yes, but you were somewhat surprised when he agreed anyway. He didn’t exactly seem like the type to accept help, let alone ask for it. Joel must’ve been even more stressed than you initially picked up on. 

“Of course. What would you like me to do?”

“Uh, if you could just cut up some of the fruit that would be great,” the man ran his hands through his hair as he approached the fridge once more.

You nodded and walked over to the cutting board where it was clear that Joel had begun to attempt cutting some fruit up, but had been interrupted by one of the many pots on the stovetop or dishes in the oven.

Although you didn’t necessarily envision your evening being spent in a frantic Joel Miller’s kitchen, you weren’t particularly mad at it. It didn’t take long for you two to fall into that easy collaborative rhythm that you seemed to always have when it came to working together. Maybe you weren’t too bad of a team after all. 

By the time the doorbell rang with the first family, you and Joel had just finished up, and your daughters had just about finished setting up the table in the dining room and on the patio. Taking you by surprise, Joel reached out for a high-five, which gave you a hearty laugh as the two of you tapped hands.

“I appreciate your help,” he remarked. “You saved my ass tonight.”

By all means, dinner was a success. Parents and children raved about how good everything was, and conversing with Joel and the other parents was surprisingly easy—despite you not noticing the knowing looks that a few of the more gossipy moms frequently shot each other. 

Luckily, a few families assisted in cleaning things up after dinner before heading out, cutting the time you’d need to spend helping with cleaning pretty significantly. As the night wound down, it came as no surprise when Chloe asked if she and Sarah could hang out for just a bit longer. It’s not like an extra hour would kill you, especially not when Joel was pulling out a bottle of white wine and suggesting sitting out on the patio in the pleasant Austin autumn weather. 

As you got settled into your seat, Joel poured you out a glass before pouring himself some. You sighed contentedly, happy with a rather pleasant evening, but tired from the stress of the day. 

“Thank you for helping me out. There’s no way in hell I could’ve done this without you,” he confessed, peering deeply into your eyes. He looked at you for just a moment too long, the attention bringing a warmth to your face.

“I’m always happy to help anyone,” you smiled shyly under the pressure of his intense look before taking a sip of your drink. “Well, maybe I wouldn’t be happy to help Amy. But I’m always happy to help you.”

“Well, I appreciate you,” Joel paused as he drank. “And I wouldn’t help Amy either.”

The two of you shared a little laugh before a rather comfortable silence filled the air. The two of you looked up at the sky, gazing at the stars that seemed to be shining a little more bright than usual.

“I’d like to repay you somehow,” Joel said, breaking the silence as he continued to keep his eyes fixed on the sky. 

“Mm, that’s not necessary,” you hummed. “Dinner was plenty. It was great, and Chloe and I will definitely be enjoying our leftovers.”

“It’s necessary to me,” Joel paused as if he was contemplating even saying the next words. “Would you let me take you out sometime?” 

It was clear that he was looking right at you, nervously anticipating your answer. 

You cracked a slight smile as you turned your head towards him, “That would be nice,” you nodded. “I think that would be really nice.”

[imawreck]

Dinner Date

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Original Character

Summary: Bucky and Snow finish up their date with dinner.

Warnings: Mean people being mean, mentions of Bucky’s past

Word Count: 5,086

Bucky-

Introducing Snow to roller coasters was the worst idea ever. Once we had ridden The Bullet, she was hooked on them like a drug. We rode every. Single. One. I could feel my stomach protesting the whole time to stay upright on the ground. Don't get me wrong, watching her face light up and hear her perfect laugh was unforgettable and the highlight of the night so far, but I was going to lose the funnel cake we had if I had to ride another one.

I caught her eyeing another roller coaster just down the path and groaned, tugging against her hand. "I can't take another roller coaster Snow, have mercy."

She threw me a pout from over her shoulder, pausing in her march towards it. "Awe, who's afraid now?"

I scowled at her, nudging her with my shoulder as I matched her pace. "I'm not afraid, I'd just like to keep my food down while I'm on a date with a pretty girl."

Snow didn't have a retort for that, instead choosing to tug me along further into the carnival like she had done it a million times over. "How about something more relaxed? Maybe that?" Her dainty hand directed my attention to the large Ferris Wheel looming in the distance.

"I think that's a great idea, the view will be amazing." This time it was me who tugged her down the path, weaving through the groups of people chatting loudly about school or who is who in a comic book.

The line was relatively short due to most of the carnival goers lured by the more exciting rides littered around the grounds. Most of those who stood in line were obviously in romantic pairs. Some of them were holding hands much like Snow and I, causing my attention to narrow on the softness of her cool fingers pressed against my knuckles as we stood.

We boarded one of the larger cars with an umbrella shooting up from the center. Snow sat near the railing, peering out as we lifted from the ground and the city became smaller and vaster the higher we got. I wanted to burn the memory of her smile and the way the lights illuminated the contrasts of her face in my mind forever. She was the most beautiful think I’d seen in a long time.

I carefully maneuvered myself opposite of her and watched as we rose higher. Snow leaned against the railing to get a better look at the world below and I joined her, gripping the metal bars for support like she had. Our hands were mere centimeters apart.

Snow's voice broke the silence, "Thank you for bringing me here. It's the most fun I've ever had." She reached up and tugged at her cap before shooting me a blinding smile, "You are an exceptional date. Definitely going to be hard to beat this." She nodded as if confirming her own statement and I couldn't help but chuckle at her.

Our shoulders bumped together as the car rocked, adjusting to the movement of the ferris wheel. Snow's hand brushed mine against the bar and our eyes caught each other. I was frozen under her blue gaze, completely enraptured by her. I was vaguely aware of the cool air whipping around us, but it was muted. Like a blanket had been thrown over the two of us and we were the only people left. Her eyes flickered to my lips once, twice, before they looked at me with a certain vulnerability swimming behind them. There was a tension nearly palpable forming between us as the silence engulfed us. I found myself moving towards her, barely noticeable until I felt her warm breath fan over my face. She smelled of mint and lavender.

I wasn't sure where it would have gone if the car hadn't jolted.

Our bodies were jerked apart as it lurched violently to the right, pulling us with it. The bar we had both been resting on groaned under our grip, snapping right off the car as we both regained our balance. We held it between us, each of our hands gripping a crumpled end of metal.

Snow's wide eyes found mine, flickering between the metal bar and my face before she released it with a shove in my direction. She laughed then, loud and tinkling. "You broke the rail!"

I gawked at her, "You broke the rail! I was just holding onto it!"

Her nose scrunched up and momentarily stole my breath. "You're the one holding it. I had nothing to do with this destruction of public property. I am completely innocent." Her head tilted up defiantly and she tried to pull the bill of her cap over her face to hide her grin.

Both of us burst out laughing, falling back on the booth seats and slapping our hands against the cracked leather. This was the most bizarre date I had ever had. When we went to get off the ride, I was forced to hand the broken railing over to the attendant by a certain white haired delinquent who couldn't help but laugh at my poor apology. The poor woman just blinked at me in confusion as Snow snatched my hand and hauled me off in the opposite direction before she started asking for our contact information.

We walked back towards the edge of the carnival. I had told her I wanted to try one more game before we had to leave for dinner so she and I walked along the edge where we had first played. I scoured the fenceline trying to find a game that I was certain I could win. I wanted to get her something, win her a prize like she had done for me.

Suddenly, Snow halted. For just a moment I thought something was wrong before my eyes found her face. She was staring at a booth just ahead of us, little trinkets like scarves or keychains hung on the tarp wall, with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Her hand tightened around mine as she made sure steps towards the stand. I followed her, taking in the darts laid out on the table and the small targets littering the back wall.

I could do darts. It was a lot like throwing knives but with less rotation. Snow smiled up at me, "Think you can win at darts?"

I gave her a look of offense, "Are you questioning my skills?"

She shrugged, "Well you couldn't prove much at Ducky Pond..." I gave her a rough nudge on the shoulder, souring at her words.

I tugged at the sleeves of my jacket, "'Course I can win at darts." She sure knew how to get a rise out of me. I stalked up to the booth and flashed her my orange band, snatching up the darts and readying to throw. Before I could, there was a soft tap on my shoulder. I looked down, eyeing Snow with a brow raised.

"Come here," she waved her hand in a downward motion, "you can't see a thing behind that hair."

I bent at my waist to allow her to reach. Her fingers were cold and gentle as she pulled the stray hairs around my face towards the back of my head. She moved around me as she did so, brushing my hair through her hands as she gathered it in the back. I heard the faint snapping of an elastic hair tie being set into place and her fingers adjust her work. "There, all set."

My face was ablaze under my skin as I stood back up, "Thank you."

Snow rested her hands on her hips in a proud stance, grinning up at me with her pointed smile. The way she stood further accentuated her curves, hip jutted to the side with one leg resting a little farther forward than the other. Everything about her shot alarm bells off in my head. I tore my eyes from her frame and refocused on the task at hand; Hit the bullseye, win the girl a prize.

I reared my forearm back and released the first dart. It plunked into the red center of the first target. Snow whistled besides me as I tossed the second one, sinking it right next to the first. I felt pride swell in my chest at her praise, dropping the darts and turning back to her with a shit eating grin. "I told you."

"Never doubted you once." She sniggered and looped her arm through mine. "Now you get to pick your prize. What'll it be, Sergeant?" I caught her eyes flicking over to the prizes hung on the wall.

The attendant stepped up and waited patiently for me to decide. I shrugged, trying to figure out what it was that she wanted so badly. "You pick, doll."

She quirked her lip at my statement, not batting an eye as she told the attendant what she wanted. "Jean ball cap in the back. Red star on the side."

I tilted my head, "Why that one?"

When the attendant handed the hat to Snow, she pulled off the puffy hat and slid on the ball cap, stuffing the other deep into her coat pocket. Her white hair brushed her eyebrows and stuck out near her ears in a wild sort of way as she smiled at me. Her hand came up to brush against my left arm, just at my shoulder, "Now we match." Snow took the same hand and pointed to the red leather patch sewn haphazardly into the cap.

I shook my head at her, chuckling as I did. "I guess you're right." I pulled my phone out of my pocket, flashing the screen once to check the time. "We should head to dinner. Tony would be livid if we missed it."

Snow nodded, adjusting her hat once more before lacing our fingers together. My skin burned where she touched it, lit ablaze by the unfamiliar gesture. I was beginning to think that Snow was an affectionate person at heart, buried beneath all of her strength and sarcastic exterior.

I lead her back to the car where the two of us sat with Tony's wretched music playing in the background. Snow bobbed her head to it just as before, reveling in the odd tune and even humming the chorus after a while. When we pulled up to the building, a valet in a suit came to collect the keys. He was short with his hair greased back and he gazed at Snow's backside with unguarded eyes as she stepped from the vehicle.

I slid in front of his view, pouring all the wrath I could into it. Disgust slithered in my stomach at the sight of him. His form practically crumbled away as he slipped behind me and dug the key into the ignition. I bent low, peering into the window and placing my left hand on the car door. His wide eyes stared back at me as I gave him a blank smile and repeated Tony's words to me, "Not a scratch."

The man nodded, visibly shaking as he pulled off. Snow was waiting for me on the sidewalk with her hands crossed politely in front of her. Her eyes followed me as I made my way up, "Is something wrong? You seem awfully worked up."

I shook my head, "No, just want to make sure Tony won't kill me. Just told him not to scratch the car." I took her arm in mine and watched as she took in the restaurant.

It was old fashioned and made of tan cement, like we had walked back in time a few decades. There was a little red carpet rolled out from the double doors and had a tower that rose into the sky with the name of the restaurant blinking in red lights. It was definitely a Tony style restaurant. Immediately after we walked through the doors, we were met by two employees dressed in a near complete suit and the soft ebb and flow of classical music playing in the distance.

"May I take your coats?" The woman, no taller than Snow, held out her hands for them. I shrugged mine off along with my gloves, suddenly a bit nervous about my appearance. I was beginning to think I was just a tad bit underdressed for this kind of dinner. Snow followed my actions, slipping off her coat and looping it over the woman's hand with a polite smile and a quick 'thank you'.

The man besides the woman had a dark pointed mustache and a tablet held in the crook of his arm, "What is the name for your reservation sir?" His French accent was heavy.

"Barnes." I had never reserved a place like this before. Hell, I'd never made a reservation anywhere before.

The man slid his finger over the tablet before stopping on what I assumed was my name and nodding. He slipped the device back into his arm before gesturing widely with his free hand. "Your table is this way, Monsieur."

We followed the stout man through rows of tables, seemingly walking through an endless room before he stopped at the farthest table in the entire restaurant. I mentally thanked Tony for reserving us a seat away from the rush of most of the people. I pulled out a chair for Snow, waiting until she had tucked her legs under the table before I eased her chair a comfortable distance from the edge. After I took my seat a waitress met us with a polite wave, "Good evening, can I help you to some appetizers? Wine?"

Snow grabbed the leather menu placed on the tablecloth in front of her and expertly flicked through the laminated pages as she scanned through it. I nodded up at the woman, "I think we will need a minute to look over the menu, but we'd like some wine."

Snow's voice rose from behind the menu as she bobbed her head innocently, "Red please, and sweet."

The waitress took a glance at her pad and scribbled something down, "Will that be all for you?"

Both of us nodded and she left us alone at the table once more. I picked up my own menu and began to thumb through it too, glancing up at Snow from the edge of it. She had taken off her hat when we had entered but refused to let the woman who asked for our coats take it with her, opting to hang it on the back of her chair instead.

Our waitress returned with our wine and poured us both a glass. We ordered our food, and she hurried off. In less than twenty minutes she returned once more with a large tray carrying our dinners. It was the fastest I had ever been served. Snow and I thanked her and dug in, talking about ridiculous things like the weather or Tony's drinking habits between sips of wine and bites of food.

The lights were dim, and majority of the tables were lit by a single large candle sitting in the center. It illuminated her face with an orange hue, giving her hair a golden glint when she moved. The music had gotten louder as the man had showed us to our seats and I had located its source before we had gotten comfortable. Just to the right of us was a large set of wooden doors carved with intricate designs around the edges. I watched as a man and woman both slipped behind it and happened to catch a glance at pairs of people dancing around the floor.

I thought about what it would be like to dance again. I hadn't in so long that I feared that maybe I was a little rusty. I wondered if Snow even knew how to dance. A smile slipped on my face at the thought of someone so elegant and surefooted as her stumbling around trying to learn the steps.

Snow sipped her wine as she looked up from her meal, catching my stare. "What are you all smiley about, Mr. Barnes?" The way she said my name sent a shiver down my spine.

I shook my head while holding her eyes, "Nothin' doll, just looking at you."

I was certain I saw her face darkened a shade as she scoffed, finally setting her cup back on the table. She opened her mouth to speak but something else had drawn my attention from her.

A pair of women seated a few tables from us were whispering to each other and the words 'Winter Soldier' had dropped into their conversation.

They continued to talk. "Surely that isn't him, the government wouldn't let him out of the tower, right?" The brunette wasn't as quietly spoken as her friend was.

I kept my eyes down as they talked, pretending to push food around my plate. "He was pardoned, they said he was under someone else's influence. Brainwashed, I think."

The brunette blinked in horror, and I balled my fists. "But he killed people! Like, hundreds of people! How could they let a murderer like him walk around with the rest of us, let alone with no security?"

Her friend nodded solemnly, and her eyes loitered on Snow seated across from me. "I wonder if that poor girl knows who she's eating with. A man like him doesn't deserve happiness after what he did."

My heart dropped to the pit in my stomach. It was like a wall came down around me after that and I noticed just how many eyes had been watching me. Everywhere I looked I caught someone staring, whispering, pulling their loved ones by the hand and leaving the restaurant as fast as they could without stirring up a fuss. I blinked hard, desperately trying not to listen to the names they spoke to each other. Murderer, Killer, Winter Soldier, all of which were true in a sense. I did kill people. I killed a lot of people. Maybe those women were right, I didn't deserve to be sitting here on a mundane date with a woman who was probably just humoring me out of pity.

Who was I to think that I could try to be happy? Who was I to think that I deserved someone who cared about me after all the pain I have caused?

"Bucky."

I jolted in my seat. Snow was staring me down from across the table, her hands planted on both sides of it in a way that made me think she was about to launch herself across the table if I hadn't heard her. She relaxed just a little and spoke so softly to me. "What's going on?"

I shook my head, once again looking back around the building. Looking at the eyes. "I shouldn't be here with you."

She frowned, wrinkling her brow. "What?"

I closed my eyes, clenching my teeth together. "I don't deserve to be here with you. I don't deserve to be happy after-"

"Shut up." I snapped my lids open, staring at her. Snow hadn't said it harshly, or with any negativity. Her eyes weren't on me, rather on her food. She moved her plate to the side as well as her glass, clearing the table in front of her. She tugged my plate forward and placed it aside with hers. When she was done, she sat her palms up on the table and reached out to me. "Give me your hands." I stared at her, watching her face harden when I didn't do as she said. "Give me your hands, Bucky."

I raised my right hand slowly, placing it in lightly against her cold skin. Her fingers folded over my own firmly and she pushed her other elbow further across the table. "Both of them."

I pursed my lips, raising my metal palm to hover over hers. I contemplated just getting up and leaving but she snatched it with equal firmness like the other. Her blue eyes bored into my own. "I want you to listen to every word I have to say to you. Do not interrupt me." She waited for me to nod before she went on, making sure not to let my hands slip an inch away from hers. "Your life was stolen from you along with your own mind. Your actions after that were not your own. I know that you blame yourself for what happened, and I know that you're haunted by your time as the Winter Soldier, but that wasn't you, Bucky. That was something that Hydra had crammed into your head to do their dirty work and command on their own accord. Hydra is to blame, Bucky, not you. Never you.

"I haven't known the real you for very long, but I am certain that you aren't to blame for everything that has happened. You are worth so much more than you tell yourself. So, I don't want to hear you say you don't deserve to do normal things, or that you don't deserve to be happy because that's exactly what you deserve. You are not a monster. You deserve to live out the life you have always wanted without the worry that someone might come out and steal it from under your nose." She squeezed my hands, "And I'm going to tell you that until you believe it. I want you to be happy, Bucky, and I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen."

The sincerity in her voice struck me hard, and her eyes never left mine as she spoke to me. I could hardly believe a woman like her, beautiful and strong, would sit there and tell me that I had worth, that I wasn't the monster Hydra had made me into. My eyes burned with tears, but I refused to cry in front of her.

Snow let her head fall to the side a little bit, a lock of white hair drooping between her eyes. "Come dance with me?" Her thumb brushed over my knuckles, running over the grooves of my metal hand and the scarred skin stretched over the opposite. Equally.

I nodded after a beat, raising from my seat. She kept her hand firmly around mine as she let me lead her to the wooden doors. I held it for her as she slipped inside, tossing a coy smile over her shoulder. The dance floor was almost like a ballroom, bearing an arched ceiling and a monstrous glass chandelier. The floor was marbled with emerald hints scattered over it.

I faltered once more, taking in the men scattered around in expensive suits and bright smiles. I didn't belong here.

Snow sent a pulse through my hand, catching me with her eyes. "Breathe."

I drew a breath and expelled it slowly, letting her pull me onto the floor. Her delicate hands wrapped around my neck as we eased into the smooth rhythm of the piano. Snow was noticeably shorter than I was, and her arms rested against my shoulders as we swayed.

She pulled in closer, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck or the little tail poking out from the bun she had tied at the carnival. Her smile was small and sincere as she followed my steps. After a while, she spoke up, "What upset you so much?"

My first response to these kinds of questions is to clam up and stay quiet. I hardly ever spoke about my feelings with Steve, and I had known him much longer than Snow. Feelings weren't something I was very good at. I barely knew what I was feeling half the time, and the more complicated things got the more frustrated I would become. I didn't understand how to talk about them. However, something was different when Snow was involved. She knew what I had been through, understood it better than anyone else could. From what I could tell, she didn't pity me, and she definitely didn't treat me any differently than the others at the compound. I wanted to be able to talk to her.

"They were talking about me, the people in there, about what I did as the soldier. They called me a killer and said I shouldn't be allowed out in the open like this." I couldn't look her in the eye. "They wondered if you knew what I did and who I was."

"Of course I do. That is exactly why I agreed to come out with you tonight. I know who you are, Bucky, and you are not a killer or a danger. You're just a man who likes extra syrup on his pancakes with a funky metal prosthetic." Snow shrugged, as if what she had said wasn’t a big deal.

A smile broke onto my face at her statement, "I do like syrup. But Snow, my past is-"

"It's exactly that," She interrupted, "Your past. You aren't like that anymore. You save lives every day with the world's greatest superheroes." She had said it so simply, like it wasn't anything short of the truth. "You shouldn't doubt yourself so much. You are a good man, I have seen it with my own eyes."

My heart ached in my chest as her words resonated in my soul. I pulled her up against my chest, lifting her feet off the ground and holding her against me in a tight embrace, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She tightened her own arms around my neck, her breath fanning against my cheek as we swayed to the gentle music. Snow hummed the melody quietly in my ear and I was thrown into a memory.

My hands clutched a palm much smaller than mine as a brush was dragged through the wet strands of my hair. The fingers laced between my own tapped a steady beat against my knuckles as a hum filtered into the quiet. I didn't know the song, or if she was even humming a song at all. I felt at ease with her, calm and quiet inside. The anxiety of the generals and the missions dissipated in the presence of this woman as she threaded her fingers through my hair and soothed the knots in my shoulders.

We danced for hours, I never once let her feet touch the ground and she didn't complain. She simply played with my hair and let me sway her to the beat as she hummed along. I realized that I loved her voice and that I wanted to keep it locked away and never forget the way it sounded. Eventually the night had to come to an end and we collected our coats and left a tip. I drove her home in a comfortable silence with her hand in mine. Nothing was awkward with her around. She just let it be.

When we got to the compound I walked her to her door like last time, only she let me keep her hand laced with mine all the way up to the door. Snow turned to me with a little smile, "Well, I'd say that was the best date I have ever had. You are quite the catch, Barnes."

I laughed, "You aren't so bad yourself. Thank you for coming."

"Anytime." Her face lit up once more as if suddenly remembering something, "I have something to tell you." I raised my eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

"Well, you'll understand it. With the cold coming, I figured I would tell you something important to me. A memory I cherish." Her shoulders pulled in like she was suddenly nervous. "A long time ago, you and I went on a mission together. It was much colder than this and it was snowing a lot. You had to leave our camp to scout the city about a mile or so down the mountain. It was night time and darker than anything, there wasn't a moon out."

A flicker of an image flashed behind my eyes. A streetlight next to a storefront littered with posters of women in the newest fashion trends.

She went on, "You were gone a while longer than you usually took, but when you came back you had a smile on your face. You rarely ever smiled back then." Snow fidgeted with her fingers, "You had seen something while you were on your patrol and you came back with something for me. Do you remember what it was?"

Another flash of memory, the women in the window. One in particular caught my eye. She had gentle features and a soft slope in her nose. Her eyes were bright and the deepest shade of blue. The woman's hair was blonde, but that wasn't what had made me stop. The poster shared such similar traits to my partner that I could hardly tell the difference if it wasn't for the color of her hair. Written in bright bold red letters above her was the name Maxine.

I blinked away the memory, staring at Snow with wide eyes. "A name. I came back with a name."

Snow gave me a bashful grin, nodding her head. "You gave me a name that day. I hadn't been named as a child and Hydra wasn't much for that kind of thing, so it means a lot with me and I only share it with the people I trust. Maxine is a little dated for this day and age, so Max will do just fine. I don't mind if the others find out, I just wanted you to remember it first."

I couldn't do much else but look at her in awe, outstretching my hand. "It's nice to meet you Max, I'm James. James Buchanan Barnes." I felt it was only fair if she knew my real name too.

Her face lit up and she reached out with her own, taking my hand and giving it a firm shake. "It's so good to meet you." She laughed and my heart pounded in my ears. "We should probably turn in for the night, it's getting pretty late. Thank you again for the date, it was wonderful."

I nodded, taking a step back from her door. "It really was. I'll see you tomorrow, Max."

"I'll see you tomorrow, James. Goodnight." She eased inside her room, giving me a little wave from the gap.

"Goodnight." I felt like I was floating that night, and not one nightmare woke me.

Tags<3

@cjand10 / @blackbirdwitch22 / @imdoingathingmom

[aphroditesmoon]

be sweet to me

tess servopoulos x sunshine!reader

summary; tess meets an unlikely match from her runback from bill and franks's.

warnings: mentions of robbery and violence.

a/n: not really making this a series but more of concepts? would u guys like that? like more hcs and oneshots of tess x sunshine!reader?

°°°

You were quite sure no one saw you, so quite sure. Until the woman is holding a gun againts the back of your head, demanding you to get up.

She had you againts the wall, back facing her before making you drop your backpack.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone?" She asked mockingly. Though all you heard was the compliment. "You think I'm pretty- ah stop-" You yelped as she pushed you head back to the wall.

"I think you're stupid." She confirms. "Now answer the question."

"I'm a smuggler." You say bluntly. She frowns at your at ease demeanor. "Really?" She drawls. Your head snaps back towards her in a glare despite being held againts your permission. "I smuggle essentials you won't be able to compare with you second grade melatonin and cocaine." You snapped.

You expected her to smash your head on the wall or something, so when she laughs, you actually flinch in her grip.

When her laughter quiet downs, she eyes you with more curiosity than cross, her hold on you loosening. "You have medicine?" She asks.

Of course she'd ask that, you did brag about your smuggling. "Uh no." She frowns again.

"Toiletries?" She guessed. "Nope, sorry."

She sighs and let's go of you fully pushing you away slightly. "From the way you're talking I would've thought you'd have the damn cure for this shitshow yourself, but not even pads?" She sounded amused more than irritated, and you're starting to wonder why she doesn't just push you off and leave, now absolutely knowing you're harmless.

You should feel dumb, but being stupid is your permanent position in this world. So you smile at her as your eyes sparkles. "No pads, unfortunately, though I do have my own pack. But I promise what I have is much better than an infected cure."

Silence fills the gap between the two of you before she sighs again and nods her head towards you, signaling to continue.

Immediately you reach for you thrown bag pack, unzipping it and pulling out the warm, paper wrapped chicken sandwich, holding in like a baby in your arms before you slowly walk towards her, nudging it into her hands.

She was quiet for a second, hesitating to take it at first. But when the smell hits her nose and her hands holds it, you swore you heard her moan.

Immediately, her fingers move to unpack it, and without a second to think, she shoves the fresh sandwich into her mouth, and groans in happiness when the first bite hits.

"Jwezus-" She munches. You wait for her to swallow the first big bite. "How much do you want for this?"

Your eyes widen, taken aback. "Oh- well, I don't know? You're actually the first person to ask today, the others mostly just rob me." You replied jokingly, though the both of you knew you were telling the truth.

The way she's tapping her feet, you could tell you're making her impatient, so you drill yourself to have courage.

"I um- maybe, 5 ration cards?" You say slowly, drawing the words, making them sound more like a questions.

Her eyes widen in disbelief. "5? That's all?" She asks in disbelief. "You're really trying to die out here aren't you?" She shakes her head and you actually feel ashamed at her statement.

God knows even an apocalypse couldn't push you to grow some balls.

"Well-" You started, then immediately retreated to silence. She cocks her head at you and raise a brow, so you brave yourself again.

"I'm honestly in need of a place to stay, so far I keep getting raided most places I go, and these sandwiches can't make themselves from grass I mean-" You gave a nervous laugh, but she sees in your eyes you're so terrified you might actually start crying from the confession.

Life really hadn't been easy. But of course, after all the shit and people who've been messing with you, being nice to a beautiful scary lady is the only option your unarmed and unprepared self have instead of actually holding your own.

Being hit is better than being killed is what you've learned so far, especially when you don't even have a gun.

Her eyes turns softer and she gives a nod of understanding, finally seeing the odds.

You wait nervously for an answer, but she does provide one, only bending down to pick up your bag pack from the ground to sling it by her shoulders before starting to walk away from you.

She's robbing you, you thought.

Until a few steps away, she halts in her movement to turn around to look at you with a confusedly expression. "Well, ya coming or not? I can't eat all this meat myself can I?"

[deepdeanvsweston]

@ whoever asked this ask ↓ it won't let me answer it and idk why! But I copied and pasted it :) hope that is ok

please headcanons for any of the ships for the five that you like (like margaret/florence or una/lettice, which you've mentioned/hinted at) (if you're fine with it, that is ^^)

Anon of COURSE it is fine this is an ask I LOVE

I choose Una/Lettice!!! Cheri Cheri Lady on repeat and thinking of Them btw. Also have a moodboard

(Lily James as Una and Sarah Gadon as Lettice)

- Pearl Prestwich is 13 and quickly rising the ranks as a swimming gala star

- Una, now well-liked headmistress of Deepdean, and also the swim team coach as she was quite good at it in her youth

- it's about the one thing she remembers fondly of her years at Deepdean > the desire to run away from all that happened was greatly eased by the need to swim swiftly in a race, and the cold water on her skin felt better than the hot, clinginess of rumours

- Prestwich is of course a surname she recognises.

- Una hopes it could be a coincidence, the sight of one of The Five's daughters as a symbol of their guilty youth is one almost too painful to bear

- But of course nothing in Una's life ever fades to an inconsequential background and sure enough, Lettice Prestwich waltzes out of her car every afternoon to pick up Pearl with all the swagger of a woman who knows she's too good to be true

- (Una, despite the wriggling knife of anxiousness inside her, is pleased to see Lettice looking so healthy)

- Lettice doesn't spot Una until the next term rolls around as she's had a habit of spying on Lettice through the window, but as headmistress she of course goes and greets her girls at the start of every new term

- she's taken aback as her daughter drags her over to Una "mama, you must come and meet the swim coach - she's ever so encouraging, says I might even make the senior team as a junior if I keep it up!"

- Lettice can't say no to her daughter (has cultivated a mama's girl fr) and is willingly but reluctantly dragged over to 'Miss Dichmann' who she has to say is cutting a fine form in burgundy trousers and blouse

- they stare at each other before Una launches into some spiel about how Pearl is an asset to the school, her words more sharp and clean than her usual warm tone to cover the butterflies nervousness

- Lettice doesn't know what to say. She leaves quickly, and her head says she shouldn't want to see Una again. Her heart says otherwise. Even if she didn't feel the beginnings of attraction, she misses having friends.

- (The Five made it hard to sustain friendships, and to even want them)

- they don't talk again until a swim race against another school > Pearl did make the senior team, and avidly shines with glee next to the girls in the older forms

- Lettice is so proud and Una, filled with pride for her team and school, goes to congratulate Pearl

- Lettice invites Una to a restaurant with Pearl to celebrate > she wants to be civil, and she misses having friends, in all honesty.

- Pearl is just thrilled the 2 women she admires the most are proud of her and are taking her to dinner at a fancy restaurant no less!

- Pearl nips to the loo, and Lettice and Una sit for a while.

"She's a credit to you." Una starts

"Thankyou. Did you... ever think about having children?"

"Maybe in another lifetime, where meeting a man was a priority of mine." Una feels she essentially thrown herself off a cliff, if Lettice picks up her meaning.

"Men are good for nothing but leaving in my opinion."

Una can't tell if this is a lesbian statement or simply an 'embittered by past experiences with men' statement

- Pearl comes back, and the tension is broken

- but neither of them can leave it like this, they have to know, know what it means, what it could be, what it isn't.

- Lettice puts Pearl in their car, sleepy from all the excitement.

- She turns back to Una, who they're giving a lift back to the school.

- Una leans in and kisses Lettice, pulling her into a dip so Lettice feels like a movie star. She in return threads her fingers through Una's hair and pulls her closer.

- Lettice, despite swooning at the romance of it all, furiously stands up and gives Una a whack with her bag.

- "We are in public, Dichmann!"

Una doesn't hear this, and instead can't get the fact Lettice kissed her back out of her head.

"You kissed me back."

"Yes." Lettice smooths down her skirt, and tucks her hair behind her ears.

"I don't want to let you go. I-I missed you, all of you, all these years."

"Don't let me go then." Lettice adjusts her blouse one final time. "I'll see you tomorrow, Una."

- things are...rocky, at first. They would be for any couple, let alone 2 lesbians, as Una is of course headmistress for a boarding school

- but they try. They try to make time for each other, as noone else seems to.

- anyway onto like. actual relationship headcannons now

- let's get one thing clear they're gossipy bitches!!!

- they are ex-mean girls, and while they are no longer cruel, they cannot resist a good bitch about someone

- woe betide you wear the wrong colour pearls with a dress around them; it will be discussed at length usually right after they've shagged

- Pearl is loving life as she has essentially 2 mothers who dote on her and encourage her and adore her and take her out to fancy restaurants on exeat weekends

- Lettice isn't huge on physical affection, so Una will kiss her knuckles, or adjust her necklace to show she cares instead.

- they use the same lipstick shade > it's a nice reminder of their connection when they're away from each other

- Lettice will apply Una's lipstick every morning and make her kiss her to blot it

"How do I look?"

"Fearless as always, darling."

- rest assured they WILL be the best dressed at any event

- Una if she's stressed from work will often gets headaches, and Lettice does her best to make her feel better by gently stroking her brow

- they visit Margaret and Astrid ever so occasionally, who are overjoyed every time they visit and bake cake for them both

- Lettice is very proud of the fact she can drive and will not let Una touch her Gorgeous Car

- Una leaves Lettice's house early Monday mornings in term time to get back to school, and always leaves a sweet and/or seductive note next to Lettice's signature pearls

- Lettice doesn't sleep very well, so Una reads to her from medical textbooks she has from when she was a WW2 nurse and a matron at Deepdean

[simp999]

A New Home Ch.26

Various! Splatoon Manga x Skilled! Isekai'd! Reader

Wc: 1.2k

A/N: Wow, imagine bringing up old info from chapter, what- like, four??

Back to the Start! Previous Next

As your opponents are about to leave Deca Tower, you hurry over to them.

You need to clear things up. Now.

You place your hand on the leader's shoulder to get their attention. Their head swivels toward you, and they have a smile on their face.

"'Sup?"

You weren't exactly sure what you had planned to say, and you struggle to find the right words.

"You. Me. We need to chat."

They wave off their teammates, telling them to go on without them. Milo, Leo, and Tasha are standing just out of hearing range. Wolf waits for you to speak up.

"So uh, is there a prob-"

"Why."

That didn't mean to come out as more of a statement. You tried again with a softer tone;

"Why did you let us win?"

They sigh out for a second, then face you directly. They seemed so casual up to this point, but there now seemed to be no emotion in their eyes.

"Destroy him."

...What?

"Excuse me?" You try to make sense of what they're saying, because obviously you weren't getting lots of information.

They blink, and suddenly they seem a little more easy-going again. They relax their shoulders, and shove their hands in their hoodie pocket.

"Emperor- Kick his ass. He deserves it."

How did they know? Was your anger that obvious? This still doesn't explain how their team could read yours like an open book. Wolf seems to recognize your confusion.

"It's what you want, right? Look, man, I can't really explain too much but... I kinda get what you're going through."

Wait, what? There's someone like you? Are they not from here-

"He's a little bitch, hiding behind stacks of cash. He thinks he's better than everyone else. His teammates aren't quite as bad, but they still need to be taught a lesson. You have potential. I've seen some of your battles, and you've been growing at impossible rates. I'm at my limit. I don't have the power to beat him, but I think you do."

They pause for a moment.

"So do me a favor, and give him a nice blow to his ego, yeah?"

You can only really offer a nod, still unsure of what to make of the situation.

Well, it wasn't as wild as you thought it was.

Wolf turns away to meet up with their team before you can really talk to them.

Then a glint catches your eye.

'That's right. That still doesn't explain that Golden Toothpick.'

You decide to not bug them anymore, and make your way back to your team. You wonder if you'll ever run into them again.

Your teammates still share varying looks of confusion, so you explain to them some of what just happened.

You have an asshole that you have to put back in his rightful place.

With that, your goal to beat Emperor into the ground is once again your top priority.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Your team walks out of Deca Tower without a set destination in mind. You're not quite tired, - thanks to the amount of breaks you got from respawning so often, - but maybe a little sweaty. You've still got lots of the day left. Leo spots Ammo Knights' training area and grabs you by the arm, making his way over.

"I wanna see something."

Hm. Odd, but it's not like you've got anything better to do. Your group follows him as he rolls up his sleeves and gets his dualies out. He doesn't seem to be doing anything out of the ordinary, just lots of flips and spins. Maybe he's seeing how many he can do before he gets dizzy? That's a good limit to know, after all.

Once you enter, you take note of the sound of ink being thrown around on the other side of the wall. No problem, you just can't be giving away any secret tactics. Tasha and Milo begin some small talk about the tournament, as you wait for Leo to be done... whatever he's doing. He doesn't seem to be letting up, so you decide to mess with him and ask if you can borrow Tasha's charger for a second. She's slightly hesitant, but trusts you- she also hasn't cleaned it yet, so she carefully hands it over to you. Leo's eyes are only trained on the targets, while everything else seems to be completely tuned out. You quietly make your way onto a higher platform to the right and carefully aim. As he pauses between rolls, you almost hit his nose as he jerks backward.

"Hey! What the heck was that for?!"

You giggle and he puts his weapons to his sides.

"You can't just focus on what's in front of you, dork."

Though, you do have to give him props for jerking backward before the ink made it near him. You weren't aiming to hit him, of course, but it seemed like his body reacted before he did.

They have been getting better, it seems. Your efforts and training haven't gone to waste.

That reminds you of something you wanted to try a long time ago.

Something you needed real people for, not just targets.

"Hey, Tasha,"

You carefully hand her back her weapon,

"You still keep your Paisley Bandanna on you, right?" Of course she does, she'd never leave the house without a backup to cover her face, "Can I borrow it?"

She and Milo share a glance, then she reaches for her pocket.

With the bandanna in hand, go walk up to Leo and ask him to face away from you, and close his eyes.

Once he feels the fabric tighten, he begins to question you.

"Hey, uh, what's goin' on here?"

You say nothing, but walk a good distance away from him, doing your best to be even quieter than usual.

"Shoot me." You stand almost perfectly still, with your hands behind your back.

"Uh, sorry? One more time?" You only shake your head and look over at Milo.

"Shoot them. They haven't moved."

"You've gotta be kidding me, I can't just-"

"If you don't want to improve then walk out now."

'Okay, well, that's a tad harsh, Tasha.' But still, she's not wrong.

Leo takes a deep breath in, most likely trying to remember where you stood. He brings his dulaies up in your general direction, then adjusts them.

"Hey, I'm not gonna get in trouble for hitting you, right?"

You want to snicker, but you only muster a smile and an absentminded shake of your head so as to not give away your position.

He begins shooting, and as soon as he notices the sound of a few stray drops of ink hitting you, he adjusts his aim and nearly splats you. He stops one or two shots before it would have happened.

"Well done." He rips the blindfold off, calling it dumb, but then treats it a little more gently as he recognizes the material.

No, it wasn't perfect. But he managed to adjust his aim in minimal time. Not to mention, he obviously knows his weapon's limits well, as he stopped before splatting you.

But once again, not quite perfect.

"Well, I know what we can work on now. Everyone, get your weapons ready."

Next Part

July.23.23

[justimajin]

Bonus Drabble

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

⇢ Words: 1.3k

↳ This drabble takes place between Part 21 and Part 22 of The Profit & Love Statement. Please reference the Fluff Series masterpost for this drabble.

Jin moves his neck around, wincing occasionally. 

“I think you’re right, it feels like it got worse.” 

You hum, “I just hope it’s nothing serious.” 

“Look at the bright side, at least my face is still intact.” He grins, only to immediately recoil at the movement. 

“Don’t move around too much.” You chide, holding onto him. 

It had been a solid week since your karaoke night with the others, to which Jin had severely injured himself. What followed was constant pain radiating down his back and an inability to do work, to the point where he could barely move without grimacing. 

Which is why you persisted, insisting on taking him somewhere where he can be properly looked after. 

“Kim Seokjin?” 

The sound of a third voice in the room has you spinning around and Jin’s brows raising. 

A female doctor stands in front of you, clipboard in hand and gaze stern.

“That would be me.” Jin replies and she hums, pushing the door behind her. 

“I was informed of your intake, unfortunately Dr. Jeon is occupied with something at the moment.” She quickly scribbles down onto her clipboard, before looking up, “What seems to be the problem?” 

“I injured my back.” Jin states, still recoiling in pain. “It’s been a week now.” 

“I see.” She notes and you watch as she writes down onto a form. “Is the pain localised? Or just spread out?” 

“I guess localised?” Jin mutters, attempting to think hard. “Most of it is coming from my lower back.”

“A lower back injury?” Her head snaps up, confusion sparking in her irises. 

Placing her clipboard down, she walks closer to Jin and puts a hand on his back. He immediately grimaces and a deep frown paints her features. 

“The injury seems severe.” She takes a step back, “How did this happen?” 

“Oh, I karaok–” 

You quickly interject, “He fell. Really badly.” 

Jin peers over at you, but you don’t react and the doctor raises a brow. 

“That’s a little odd….” She mutters, “Lower back pain could exist with his injury…but it would have impacted his spinal column more.” 

“I-It was a light fall…?” You say with a nervous laugh. 

She looks at you suspiciously. “Alright then… let me just consult with another doctor for a second opinion.”

You watch as she steps out of the room for a moment, and Jin frowns. 

“Why not just tell her the truth?” He piques, whispering underneath his breath. 

“We are not telling her you got injured because of karaoke.” 

“I could word it in a better way!” 

“And say what? You were so deeply moved by the songs that you injured yourself?” You cross your arms, quirking up a brow and Jin falters. 

“Okay, maybe not like that, but–” 

“Is the patient in here?” A deep voice suddenly echoes from outside the door and both of you freeze. 

The door opens, and a tall man with brown hair and framed glasses enters the room. He dons a white coat as well, holding a stern gaze. 

You notice the female doctor trailing behind him, “This is Seokjin, the person I was telling you about.” 

“I see.” He looks down at the clipboard she hands him, “Since it’s localised, I think we can rule out any disc displacement with the spine.” 

“That’s what I thought too, but it’s long-term so a fracture can’t be completely ruled out.” 

“A fracture would imply issues with the bone so we should send him in for a scan.” 

“And until then? Assume a ligament tear?” 

“Possibly.” He confirms. 

Both you and Jin watch with wide eyes, more medical jargon and information being thrown around in the room between the two doctors. It’s safe to say you can barely keep up, but you assume none of it means good news. 

“Uh, so is he alright…?” You quietly wonder, and Jin hums, unsure if he should even ask. 

“Oh, sorry!” The female doctor immediately responds, turning to you. “We just wanted to weigh out all the options.” 

“Usually it's best to discuss amongst us first.” The other doctor agrees with a smile, something that takes you aback. “It’s always good to catch onto things early.” 

The female doctor hums and your eyes oscillate between them. They’re almost effortlessly in sync with each other, as if one could easily complete the thought the other had. It’s a bit admirable to watch, and you receive an answer when the male doctor gestures for Jin to follow him. 

“I’d like to do some further check-ups with you.” He turns to you, “My wife can follow up with you on the documentation to fill out.” 

You slowly nod, taking in his words. The female doctor ushers you to follow her and Jin is left with the other doctor as the door shuts. 

She immediately spins around. 

“Now, what really happened?” 

“Huh?” You swivel, noticing her arms crossed and a knowing look to her eyes. 

“You don’t get an injury like that from ‘falling down’.” She remarks, “So what happened?” 

You hesitate, but there’s something in her gaze that tells you she’s seen through your bluff completely. 

A long sigh escapes you, “We were doing karaoke…..” 

“Karaoke?” She repeats in disbelief. “Are you being serious?” 

“I am!” You protest, “And he was so into it that he got himself hurt….” 

She simply stares at you, and you bite down on your bottom lip, wondering if she still didn’t believe you. 

But that’s when she bursts out into laughter. 

“Wow,” She swipes a tear from her eye, “That was definitely not what Taehyung had guessed.” 

Your eyes flicker, focusing onto the ring that glints from her left hand. 

“The other doctor, right?” She nods and you hesitate for a moment, before deciding to just ask. “Are you two…?” 

“Married?” A warm smile crosses her lips, “We are.”

“That’s so nice…” You whisper fondly.

“You two seem pretty cute yourselves.” She remarks, and you flush under the observation.

“We actually just recently got together…” 

“Please, you’re adorable.” A chuckle escapes her, “You should have seen me and Taehyung when we first met, we used to hate each other.” 

Your eyes snap up in astonishment, “Us too! We couldn’t stand each other!” 

“Really?” You nod in agreement and she’s bewildered, “I guess hating each other before inevitably falling in love is more common than I thought.” 

“What are you two talking about?” 

You both turn at the sight of the second doctor, who looks between you with a hint of amusement in his expression. 

“Nothing important!” The female doctor chimes in, but he doesn’t seem convinced. “How’s the patient?” 

“Getting a request for a scan.” He brings up her clipboard, tapping her against shoulder, “Already filled it in for you.” 

She warmly smiles, “Thank you.” 

You watch the two with a tender gaze, admiring them being a married couple within the workplace. 

Heading into the intake room, Jin deeply sighs. 

“I can’t believe I have to come back for a scan.” 

“Should have come sooner.” You remark and he miserably groans. 

A smile surfaces on your lips, “Don’t worry, I’ll come back with you.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course.” You slip your fingers within his, holding onto his hand. 

Glancing back at the doctor couple, they share a loving glance with each other before going their separate ways. 

A soft smile lifts at the corner of your lips. 

“I think it would be really nice to come back here.”

A/N: This wasn't a request, but a drabble idea I had in mind when Chapter 21 was written! I didn't think it would fit into the main story line however and thought it was better suited to being a drabble instead. Hope you all liked this bonus crossover!

[foewreckem]

shipping and handling

681 words on the boat to Old Sharlayan, for wolcred week day 6

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

“Do you think we could draw them on?” Estinien asked. He was inspecting his neck and jaw intently in a reflection on a cabinet. Aoife pulled herself out of a daydream to look at him in confusion.

“If you’re trying to grow a beard, Urianger might have better advice than I would.” 

Estinien looked at her in mild horror. “Woman, I’m talking about Archon marks. We’re the only ones without them and we’re going to stick out like sore thumbs.”

“You will! I’m dressed nicely,” Aoife pointed out.

“Amending my statement. A sore finger and a pinky. I’m trying to keep us from getting arrested,” Estinien said pointedly as he dodged a thrown pillow. Aoife froze at his reply, arm still extended from the toss. 

“That’s a good point, actually.” She leapt to her feet and was halfway up the ladder when Estinien called after her.

“Leaping off the ship won’t help!”

“I have to - handle - something!” Her reply was interrupted by the effort of pushing open the trap door and emphasized by the slam of it as she scrambled onto the deck. 

Estinien shook his head and went back to examining his neck.

—----

Aoife found Thancred in a quiet spot on the deck, staring intently at the horizon, arms folded on the gunwale. It was a nice image, and she felt a pang of regret as he stood up straight on her approach. He beckoned her over and nodded in the direction he’d been staring.

“Right about that direction, when we get close, you’ll be able to see Thaliak’s head. There’s a giant statue in Scholar’s Harbor and the first time I saw it I thought the head was floating in the water on its own.” He leaned close enough for her to follow where his arm was pointing.

She squinted. They were still a day out from Old Sharlayan, so there wouldn’t be anything to see tonight besides sea and stars, but she was encouraged by the vague excitement in his voice.  “Is his statue handing out books to newcomers?”

“Pouring water from a jug, as it stands, but there’s books enough in every other building. Even under the statue, supposedly.”

“What, books where he’s pouring the water? That doesn’t seem very wise at all. Maybe we should turn the boat around.”

Thancred elbowed her lightly before returning to the position she’d found him in. She folded her own arms over the gunwale, and for a while they watched the horizon in a companionable silence, until the dusk claimed the rest of the sky.

“Estinien reckons those of us without Archon marks might have some trouble for a bit,” Aoife said eventually. She turned her face toward him, resting her head on her folded arms. 

“I won’t let that happen,” Thancred replied. He had tensed up a bit and Aoife recognized the set of his jaw all too well. 

“Right.” She thought carefully before she went on. “You might have to, though. Besides! Old Sharlayan isn’t the worst on the list of city-states that could possibly throw us in jail. They’re the first-most-likely to actually feed us.”

“I don’t like that you have that list,” he mumbled, relaxing slightly.

“It isn’t really a list, they’re in a sort of grid. Tataru says that if I can check off enough of them to make a line she’ll give me a prize.” Aoife drew in the air with her fingers to demonstrate; Thancred ran a hand down his face and she knew he was trying not to laugh. “So you see, it’s in my best interest to get arrested a bit.”

“Sharlayan doesn’t do anything in bits, but I suppose I could give you enough time to get your box checked.” Thancred pushed away from the gunwale and herded her gently toward the door she’d come from, following her back belowdecks. “Does a guard need to be conscious to check the box, or does Tataru accept your word?”

“The guard needs to be conscious. They need to be very, very conscious,” Aoife replied as the trap door closed over them both.

[manybcdthings]

town

felix ranstrom and isabella belcourt @rviner

He waited for Bella, as promised. All due to their earlier conversation that left him with a nagging thought. It wasn't just her stubborn and determined support that struck him, but a simple statement that was muttered so quickly, it could have easily been ignored. As soon as he saw her, Felix moved with deliberate steps to meet her half way within the quiet street, a sly glance thrown at his watch. "Thought maybe the Vikings got you again." he teased, as the hour pushed closer to midnight. He was about to speak further when a sudden hesitation gripped him, his eyes darting between hers. "…you mentioned something earlier, I didn't have the chance to reply." he continued, his tone it's usual dryness even as he reached for her hand, fingers intertwining as he guided her along.

"Last night wasn't technically a date." Felix cleared his throat as he repeated the statement she made, the one that prompted this entire situation. Though, the night had certainly ended like a date, Bella's words had clearly impacted Felix enough to try for a little decorum. Glancing to her as they walked, he waved his free hand towards the closed bar. "A while ago when I was..." when he couldn't sleep, and he treated a walk through the town as a medicine. "I saw two Cross wolves sneaking out of the bar. I don't think they even lock it." he added as a shrug accompanied his words. It seemed there was a hint of embarrassment, uncharacteristically taking hold of him as Felix led them to the building. Years worth of materialism rearing it's head, or perhaps a nagging reminder that everything he did had to be of worth.

"Not the best...first date but I guess it's either this or a watch shift together." he muttered, before a frown moved over his mouth. "Shit. Maybe that would've been better because you're a tree-hugger?" Felix added, having to wrap his self-doubt into a sarcastic tease and offer Bella a smirk. He quickly nudged open the door with his shoulder, keeping hold of her hand and surprised at how easily it swung open. "Oh...yeah they don't even lock it." Was he nervous? Hand finally slipped from Bella's as he moved to the bar. "We could just take a bottle and go to...where there's trees." his dry and level tone might have sounded out as it usually did but...he was nervous.

[archivxx]

{0.09}

Previous || Next

You lay sprawled out on the couch. Your head thrown back at an awkward angle, Nicole’s legs thrown over yours haphazardly. Bebe was cuddled into your side. You’d woken up quite suddenly, you had no concept of time or the ability to move your joints. You can’t even recall the time when you fell asleep, or even started to feel tired.

You craned your neck to look around the room. There was multiple booze bottles scattered around. The more you looked at the bottles the more the memories of last night began to creep back in. You couldn’t help but smile. You felt so incredibly grateful to have the two girls that were passed out next to you. They had managed to pull you out of the pit of overthinking that had caused you to shut away again.

You grabbed you phone to check your socials only to be met with a battery symbol. You rolled your eyes at the inconvenience and untangled yourself from the bodies on you. You trudged over to your bedroom and put your phone on charge before carelessly throwing it on the bed. Seeing your bed and feeling the extreme ache in your neck, it would of been nice to sleep in your bed. However, you thought better of it. Since you were up, you’d cook the girls some breakfast as a thank you. They’d saved you from your thoughts once again. They were like your guardian angels.

You trudged back out to the kitchen and opened the fridge, starting to scan the contents. You found some bacon so you grabbed that. You looked around the small kitchen until you found some bread. You went back to the fridge and grabbed the butter.

You cooked them both some bacon and made them both a bacon sandwich each. When you walked into the sitting room-which was technically also the kitchen-to deliver their food, you found them both watching the TV.

“Hey I made you both bacon sandwiches! Just how you both like them.” Both of their heads whipped around to you. You gave them both their plates and they practically inhaled their food.

“God I could eat like…fifteen of these.” Bebe hummed in agreement to Nicole’s statement. While they finished off you went into your room to check on your phone.

You picked it up and turned it on, a flood of notifications coming through. But there was only two that caught your eye.

And they read; “two missed calls from Kyley B”

You felt your heart physically squeeze. What would he want now? You stared at your phone for an exaggerated amount of time. You couldn’t formulate any real thoughts. You pondered why he’d called you briefly before you saw red.

How dare he? You were furious. How dare he mock you to your face then call you like it was nothing? You let out an exasperated sigh and opened your phone. You clicked on your messages only to be met with 3 texts from Kyle on top of the 2 phone calls. You rolled your eyes involuntarily and opened the texts.

You couldn’t believe he was actually apologising.

You wanted to laugh. You wanted to laugh and laugh until there was not a laugh left in your body. The fact of the matter was that nothing was funny, yet some how this was the funniest thing in the world to you. You weren’t too sure what you actually found funny. Maybe it was that he was apologising after he expressed his dislike towards you. Maybe it was that you were still a little tipsy from last night. Maybe it was the fact it seemed like he actually cared about your well-being.

You organised your thoughts and calmed down however you still couldn’t think of a single response for him so instead your opted for leaving him on read and would reply when you had a response. You’d get round to it eventually.

You dropped your phone back on your bed and walked back out plopping between Bebe and Nicole. They both exchanged a look before turning to you.

“What happened?” Nicole asked. You looked at her like she was crazy as words of denial fell past your lips. She rolled her eyes “oh come on Y/N you know you can’t hide anything form us.” Her tone was very matter-of-fact because she knew she was stating a fact. You couldn’t hide anything from them which is why you decided accept an easy defeat.

You huffed and rolled your eyes before putting it simply “Kyle text me apologising.” This seemed to catch them both off guard. Bebe moved slightly to be facing you more while Nicole sat still staring at you. It seemed they were in the same predicament you had just been in. Kyle really apologised?

“Well you answered him right?” Bebe sputtered at you. You shook you head, you could feel her growing irritation and knew you’d love to regret allowing her to know you had left him on read. “Go. Answer him.” She sounded stern and you were about to protest when the mood shifted from calm to tense. You decided to take your friends advice. You sighed as she opened her mouth to talk, cutting her off.

You got up and stomped back into your room like a child who had just been told off. You grabbed your phone off your bed and replied. Only seconds later he started typing.

Masterlist

[mimikoflamemaker]

Faerunian Writing Challenge - Day 4

Camp Chores

How this was going to work was beyond her.

After everything that happened in the last several hours – the crypt, the goblins and bloody falling out of the sky – Neve barely noticed when the day started to lean towards the evening. She was hungry, dirty and fairly bit annoyed, so she decide to ignore Lae’zel’s protests and the vaguely disapproving look from Shadowheart and resume their search for a healer bright an early tomorrow morning.

They did tell her to lead, after all. And there was a fair bit of chance their days were numbered anyway. They could as well try to spend them in relative comfort, if the fancy inns of Baldur’s Gate were out of reach.

That’s were problems have started.

First, she had to go through a rather uncomfortable encounter with Zevlor. Asking for assistance right after coldly dismissing his concerns wasn’t ideal, but the tiefling proved to be nothing, if not understanding. She had to admit in the end that saving the refugees might not be that much of a wrench thrown into her plans, if that Halsin guy was as much of a healer as they all claimed him to be.

That and the substantial chunk of the money she had, allowed her to purchase, if not all, than most equipment they needed. And a courteous offering of showing them to the prime spot for a camp.

Now, she had a nice clearing by the river in front of her, conveniently surrounded by steep rocks and dense woods, a stack of boxes and parcels next to her…and a group of people that looked like they’ve never set foot off of the cobble-stoned roads before. Though she might have been purposely derisive towards Lae’zel right now– the gith was even more abrasive than the sand that somehow found it’s way into her clothes over the course of the day – she likely knew a thing or two about survival skills. Neve, however, had her doubts about her willingness to participate.

That left her with tents to set up, the fire wood to gather and the meal to prepare. She hoped that afterwards she will have enough energy left to at least scrape the grime off her face.

She was putting aside each tent they’ve got when she realized someone was hovering over her shoulder. A swift glance up revealed the githyanki warrior she was just thinking about.

‘We have to be efficient in our work’ Lae’zel stated, staring down at her. ‘And to be efficient we have to share it. Which tent would be mine?’

Well, it wasn’t the approach she expected, but she didn’t mind the surprise this time.

‘Take your pick’ the elleth replied. ‘And while you at it… do you think you can help Gale?’

‘Help?’ Lae’zel looked over at the wizard, her lips lifting in a quiet sneer as she seized him up. ‘You are much more gracious than you should be, given they will be leeching our labor. It is quite obvious that this one had never set up a tent. Or did much of physical labor for that matter.’

Neve opened her mouth, but hesitated, taken aback by the fact that the warrior just said it all out loud, with the wizard in question standing just a few paces behind them.

‘Well, he is useful in battle’ she settled on, feeling awkward, but at the same time fighting the desperate need to laugh. The day was clearly starting to get to her at this point.

Lae’zel blinked, considering her words.

‘You’re right. There is no point to let him freeze at night when he proved himself a decent ally. Come’ she addressed Gale. ‘I will provide you with a place to sleep, but you will observe and learn how it’s done for later.’

To his credit, the wizard looked ready to argue, but seemed to think better of it and quietly followed the gith.

‘It’s hard not to agree’ Shadowheart said once they were out of earshot. ‘I can set my own tent, I think.’

‘Knock yourself out’ Neve replied. It was a strange way to word that statement, but maybe it was a while since the cleric had camped out somewhere. She didn’t know nearly enough about her to try and guess.

With a lot of the workload taken out of her hands, the elleth picked up her own parcel and turned to face Astarion.

‘So where do you want your tent set up?’ she asked. ‘I’m not going to be as brash as Lae’zel, but I doubt you would know what to do if I’ve left you to it.’

‘My, my… aren’t you the observant one’ the elf smiled in a way that made Neve want to roll her eyes. ‘Though I suppose it isn’t a particularly difficult guess…’ his eyes traced her face, clearly picking on the thinly vailed impatience. ‘We can go over there, I suppose.’

Neve decided to not dignify that with a reply and set to work. The sooner she would be done here the better. Besides, she had no doubt that the elf hovering over her was not going to keep his mouth shut for long.

‘You know’ he hummed after a moment decidedly too short for her liking. ‘I can’t help but wonder how someone like you had come into the possession of a rather substantial amount of money…’

‘Oh, and that’s definitely a great way to get an answer to your question’ she remarked without lifting her eyes from the tent poles she was putting together.

‘Forgive me for taking you as someone who would understand a little bit of sarcasm… not to mention appreciate it…’

‘I do understand’ she interrupted without any heat in her voice. ‘And I do like a healthy amount of good banter as much as the next person... but I can also tell you’re fishing for a leverage and I am not biting.’

His smile turned into one of appreciation.

‘Why being so dismissive? I thought that if anybody in this merry group was to find an understanding it would be the two of us. Can you really fault me for being curious?’ he leaned down, bringing his face closer to hers. ‘Wouldn’t you want to learn more about your travelling companions?’

Neve fixed the last ties and began to spread the tent canvas for easier assembly.

‘Of course I would’ she said, carefully eyeing the elf without making it too obvious. ‘What would you say if I told you, I am doing just that now?’

To his credit, he gave no reaction to her words. Not the one she could easily discern anyway.

‘I would have still asked the same question’ he said, linking his longs fingers together. ‘A tiny bit of honesty in exchange for allowing you to continue your… pertinent observations. It sounds only fair don’t you think?’

‘Fair is it?’ she challenged further, and lifted the tent pole upright beneath the heavy fabric. ‘After I told you everything I know about the tadpoles and the mindflayers? Why don’t you tell me something about yourself first?’

‘Oh, I am a magistrate back in the city’ he stated flippantly. ‘It’s all rather te-’ he trailed off, interrupted by the sudden chuckle that left her mouth. ‘What’s so funny?’

Neve didn’t respond right away, busying herself with pitching and securing the tent properly. She shouldn’t have laughed, but couldn’t help herself. That particular lie might have worked… if he didn’t hold the knife to her neck in a way that clearly shown it wasn’t the first time he did so.

She bid her time, letting him stew.

‘I just can’t say you strike me as a magistrate material’ she said out loud, walking over to him so she could look him straight in the eyes, smirking. ‘All I’m hearing is bullshit’ she said only loud enough for him to hear. ‘And this one was thought out rather poorly for someone seemingly so smart. Feel free to continue the charade though. If others believe you… well shame on them, I suppose. Then again we’re not here to listen to each other sob-stories, aren’t we?’ she turned to walk away, back towards the spot where she had left her belongings.

‘You didn’t answer my question you know?’ his tone was carefully measured.

She struck a chord, it seemed. Good.

‘I do’ she picked the slick, black bow and threw the quiver over her shoulder. ‘But if I don’t depart now, we are not going to have any supper to eat. Pick yourself a bedroll and a blanket, make that tent comfortable. This is as good as it’s going to get for the time being… And can someone…’ she started, louder, before the mental image of a smoldering ruin of their camp flashed through her mind. Some other time perhaps. ‘Never mind. I’ll be back shortly.’

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 70: May 2017

Jon was trying so hard to be sensible and brave.

After Elias had lectured—no, not lectured, scolded, like they were a pair of naughty children—him and Melanie for their rash behavior in going to the Trophy Room and forbidden them to do any more field research without authorization and proper supervision, he’d been making an effort to actually do his job. Melanie had thrown her nervous energy into trying to figure out how Martin, who was apparently the only one that ever paid attention to his own systems, had organized the Archives, while Jon had taken over the research into the log book from Breekon and Hope. He couldn’t tell the difference between the real and fake handwriting any better than Melanie could, but he figured looking up each and every delivery source and recipient would help better than impulsively throwing himself at desperate chances.

It was hard to stay focused, though. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from pinning all his hopes on each new name he found, and being crushed when it turned out to be closed or completely innocuous or thoroughly unrelated. He kept wandering to the statements, even the fake ones, barely interested in the follow-up anymore but still trying because maybe this one would be the key to the Unknowing’s location. And it was harder and harder to keep himself from going off on an impulsive adventure. Only Tim’s snapping and Sasha’s nagging kept him—or Melanie—confined to the Archives.

But Tim had called out today. He sounded like he needed it, but he also sounded calmer than he had since before Martin went missing, so Jon had had no problem accepting. Still…it meant one fewer person to keep him from doing something impulsive and stupid.

He tried to distract himself by going to the breakroom to get cocoa for everyone. He didn’t even know if Basira drank hot chocolate, but he wasn’t making tea, that was Martin’s thing and he refused to contemplate the idea that he wouldn’t be back to do it someday. It took some concentration to juggle four mugs at once, but he managed it and headed back to the Archives after longer than he would have liked. Sasha was at her desk, Basira in her usual corner, but Melanie was nowhere to be seen. Jon left a mug at Basira’s elbow—whether she’d notice or not he had no idea—and set another on Sasha’s desk, then looked towards the climate-controlled document storage room.

“She went to the bathroom,” Sasha said, startling Jon so much he almost dropped both mugs he was still holding. She reached up and took Melanie’s from him, then set it smoothly on her desk. “She’ll be right back…uh, I think she left something for you on your desk a minute ago, but I don’t know what.”

If it had been anyone else, Jon might have been apprehensive about what was on his desk. But it was Melanie, and he knew he could trust her. Clutching his mug of cocoa tightly like a talisman, he headed into his office to see what was going on.

It was, probably unsurprisingly, a tape. On top of it was a sticky note with Melanie’s handwriting scrawled across it: Think this is the one you didn’t want to record last week.

Jon shut the door to his office, then sat down and slowly moved the note to one side. Sure enough, the tape was labeled in Martin’s handwriting, a slight lefty slant to his otherwise precise, even handwriting. It simply had the file number, 9971402, and the words Internal Use Only, with no further identification. That wasn’t necessarily unusual; even Gertrude’s labels had rarely made sense to anyone but her, and they really only needed to know what tapes went with what folders. But Martin usually added a word or two to jog their memories if they were just pulling the tapes, and he always wrote the speaker’s name underneath the file number. This one he hadn’t. It was almost like he hadn’t wanted anyone to listen to it…or maybe that he did, that he wanted Jon to be so curious he would just listen without investigating.

That wasn’t like Martin, to tempt him. Martin was usually extremely careful to keep Jon from falling further into the Eye’s clutches. Maybe he’d just been in a hurry.

Still…Jon wanted to listen to it. And it had nothing to do with the Beholding. He wanted to listen to it because Martin had recorded it. He wanted to hear Martin’s voice, to imagine him sitting on the other side of the desk reading it, to picture the way his face relaxed and his shoulders straightened and his beautiful green eyes seemed to shine brighter than ever when he spoke the words, and wow, Jon was smitten. If he hadn’t realized how hard he’d fallen for Martin before, the fact that he was thinking about something as objectively both horrifying and terrifying as the statements that led them further and further into the clutches of an evil otherworldly being and all he could think of was how pretty Martin looked in those moments would be a pretty big tell.

He took a deep breath and popped the tape into the recorder, then hit PLAY.

For a moment, there was nothing, just a faint rustling. Then Martin’s voice came out, shaking slightly. “Martin Blackwood, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute, recording statement number 9971402, statement of Police Constable Thad Williams. Statement given fourteenth of February, 1997. File marked ‘For Internal Use Only.’ Statement begins.”

As Jon listened, he heard the change in Martin’s voice, the way he relaxed and sank into the statement, the way it took him over and let him speak calmly and coherently. It sent an ache through his entire body, largely centered around the heart, as much because of the fact that it was Martin’s voice as it was the implications of what that meant. He leaned his chin into his hands and stared vacantly at the tape recorder, listening as the statement spooled out, or at least the lead-up to it—the statement-giver seemed to mostly be complaining about his idiotic bully of a nephew, who was likely going to end up either in prison or the victim of an organ-harvesting scam. Jon was willing to bet this would end up being a Flesh statement, especially after the statement said the boy had gone missing without warning.

Then he heard the words Jurgen Leitner, and he sat up and paid closer attention.

It only took a couple more sentences for Jon’s heart to leap into his throat as the truth struck him like a thunderbolt. The Leitner being discussed was his. This was the young man whose name he’d never been able to remember, the one who’d saved his life inadvertently, and someone had made a statement about his disappearance and the search for him. He wasn’t surprised that the constable had found neither his nephew nor the book, but…

But he’d known about it, too. He’d known Leitner existed, and what the books meant. If Jon had known that…would it have made a difference?

“Statement ends.” There was a quick intake of breath from the other end, and when Martin’s voice came back, it was shaking again. “It took a little bit of, uh, I had to use some sleight of hand to keep Jon from recording this one, but…Jon, if you’re listening to this tape, I’m sorry, but I didn’t think you were ready for it. You just got back, and with everything else you’ve been through lately, I figured…I thought maybe I’d give you some time before you have to think about this. I’m hoping I’m sitting there with you for this, because I think you’re going to need the support. If I’m not there…well, come find me if you need me.”

Another deep breath, and this time, when Martin spoke, it was in the same tone of voice Jon had noticed him using for most of his summaries. “Investigating statements marked ‘internal use only’ is always a bit trickier than usual. Most of the time there’s some kind of nondisclosure agreement surrounding the events, or it’s something that was given to us in the nature of a priest’s confessional—something that was never discussed outside the Institute—which means that we have to be careful about any follow-up we do, and it’s naturally going to be more cursory. In this case, though, the incident predated the Freedom of Information Act by three years, and was even before the election that made that a campaign promise, so it wasn’t technically a Section Thirty-One case, which gave me a little more leeway into the research. Still, it’s been twenty years, so I knew there’d only be so much I could find. And I wasn’t about to let anyone else help with this one. I figured the fewer people who knew about it until Jon got back, the better.

“I got lucky, though. I went down to Bournemouth and made contact with P.C. Zacharias Smith, who’s now the captain of the entire precinct. He confirmed that Thomas Warner is still considered a missing person and the case is still open. Mr. Williams retired from the force about five years after this incident, but…well, there aren’t a whole lot of care facilities that deal with his issues and will take people under a certain age, and it just so happens that he turned out to be in the same place as…my mother, despite it being at the other end of the country, so it wasn’t hard for me to get in to talk to him, especially since he never gets—got, I guess—visitors. He was dying when I went in to see him, but his mind was sharp enough, or at least as sharp as it needed to be. He told me a bit more about his conversation with the ‘bright young spark’ who set him on the right path, and he was really concerned about him. I’m glad I could ease his distress enough to let him know that Jon was alive and well, and that I promised I’d look after him.

“He died before I could also assure him the book wouldn’t ever hurt another child again, but I hope it will comfort anyone listening to this tape to know that A Guest for Mister Spider was the first Leitner my siblings and I found and destroyed when we decided to start burning them. I didn’t regret burning it then, and I regret it even less now.”

Click.

Jon pressed both his hands over his mouth, staring at the tape recorder, which had suddenly become very blurry. Hot, wet tears dripped onto his thumbs and he didn’t even try to stop them.

He didn’t remember. He couldn’t remember any officers he’d spoken to about what had happened, or either of them telling him they believed him, any more than he’d been able to remember Thomas Warner’s name. To suddenly find out that one of them had believed him, that someone had known all along he wasn’t making it up, was almost more than he could stand.

And the gentleness in Martin’s voice when he spoke about it almost broke him. Martin had recognized right away that it was Jon in the statement, had gone out of his way to validate and reassure Jon that it wasn’t a figment of his imagination, and then even after Jon had returned, he’d kept him from having to confront it before he was ready.

Come find me if you need me.

Jon did. He needed him more badly than he had ever needed anyone or anything in his life. And he was trying to find him, but…maybe he was going about it the wrong way. Maybe he needed help.

The question was going to be how he found that help.

It took him an hour to figure it out, most of which was spent panicking over whether he should be doing this in the first place or should ask anyone else to help him with this part. Once he’d worked it out, though, he waited until the others had gone to lunch, then shrugged into the jumper he’d pilfered from Martin headed down into the tunnels.

He hadn’t been down in them since the first day he’d been back at the Institute, since the team had shoved him and Martin down to debrief one another. They were still cool and slightly oppressive, but they also felt…private, in a way very little else in Jon’s world did anymore. As long as he didn’t spend too long down here, it might be a good way to keep himself from going completely round the bend if he took a bit of time to sit and miss Martin in solitude.

First, though, he had a task to complete. For a moment he thought about venturing further into the tunnels, but he very quickly realized that would be stupid; he had no idea what direction to head, and if he missed his target he would never forgive himself.

Instead, he sat on the bottom step and waited.

He had no idea how long it had been—minutes? Hours?—before he heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Jon took a deep, silent breath, got to his feet, counted mentally to three, and switched on his torch.

“Daisy,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even.

Daisy Tonner stood a few feet away, frozen like a deer in the headlights—or perhaps more accurately like a wolf in the headlights: still, but with her every muscle tensed for action, her eyes cold with anger and menace, her gaze fixed directly on him. She hadn’t even flinched away from the sudden light.

“What do you want?” she growled.

Jon swallowed hard. She still terrified him, and he didn’t doubt for a minute that she would kill him if given the opportunity. The stairs at his back were his only asset right now—the stairs, the door, and the knowledge that she didn’t know for sure that nobody outside would hear if she tore his throat out here and now. There was no sense in beating about the bush; he’d need to make his case as quickly and concisely as possible. “I want you to find Martin.”

“I’m not your bloody errand boy.” Daisy crossed her arms over her chest and glowered. “Bouchard might have me on a leash, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to fetch and carry and send messages to—”

“No, you don’t understand, he’s missing,” Jon interrupted, which was dangerous, but so was letting her think he just wanted her to do menial tasks about the Archives. “We were out on the street in front of the Institute and we got chased down by a delivery van—Breekon and Hope, the, the same ones that you told me about i-in your statement. They kidnapped him.”

Daisy snorted, sounding unimpressed. “Go to the police.”

“I am going to the police. It’s the Magnus Institute, that’s an automatic Section Thirty-One.”

“Just because you’re right about that doesn’t mean I’d even be the one who was going to investigate it.��

“I thought you were the only sectioned detective right now. Besides…” Jon gestured helplessly. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t…i-it’s been over a month. I know Elias has had you doing…other things. But I can’t just—if I go to the police now they’ll want to know why I waited so long. And you’re the only one I…”

The word trust curled up and dried out on his tongue. He didn’t trust her, couldn’t trust her. She’d tried to kill him for no reason, on no evidence, with no witnesses, and the only reason she hadn’t was because Basira had convinced her to hold off for now. Neither Basira nor Martin was there to protect or save him. If he screamed, he was pretty sure Melanie would come down, but he didn’t know which one would prevail in a fight and he refused to let anyone else get hurt in his place if he could help it.

He stood his ground, with a superhuman effort, and met Daisy’s eyes. “You owe me.”

“Owe you?” Daisy spat, and Jon would have taken a step backwards if there had been anything other than stairs behind him. “How the fuck do I owe you anything?”

For an answer, Jon traced the scar across his throat with two fingers. Six weeks meant it had faded to the point that it was nothing more than a slightly raised red line; he occasionally found himself rubbing it with his thumb like a worry stone, but at least it didn’t hurt anymore. Daisy’s eyes locked onto it, and there was something…hungry in them that Jon didn’t like.

It occurred to him, fleetingly, that the reason he didn’t like it was less because she was staring at his throat with that look and more because it was uncomfortably close to the way Martin looked at the statements on occasion.

Forcing the thought back, he said, a bit hoarsely, “I didn’t go to the police about what happened, even after what Elias said. You know I have that on tape. They would have had to believe me, and they would have…”

That fast, Daisy’s eyes snapped back up to Jon’s, blazing with anger. “You think I should be fucking grateful that you, what, saved my life?”

“Not yours. Basira’s.” Jon was aware that the beam of the torch was trembling, but he didn’t bother making himself stop. “I-I wouldn’t have, I don’t…but, but if that tape ever got into the hands of the police, Basira would be just as liable as you. That’s the only reason I didn’t say anything to the police, but I also didn’t tell Elias I had it. I gave him one less thread to hang on you, one less—one less thing to hold over Basira.”

Daisy tensed. Jon was pretty sure he’d said entirely the wrong thing and was about to die. “Why do you care so much? Don’t like other people taking your toys?”

“He’s not a toy.” For just a moment, anger overcame Jon’s fear, and he bristled at Daisy. “He’s the most important person in the world to me. I care about him more than anything, and not knowing where he is is killing me. I just—I need him to be safe, and you’re the only person I can think of who might be able to find him, if Elias hasn’t by now.” The anger left him all at once, and he added more softly, “Please, Daisy. It was me they wanted, and they took him instead. How would you feel if Basira was kidnapped in your place?”

Daisy stared at Jon hard. He held his breath, realizing he’d probably said too much, but waited it out. He’d cast his dice. All he could do now was see how they landed.

After long enough that a cold bead of sweat wended its way down the full length of his spine, she gave a sigh that sounded somewhere between exasperated, angry, and resigned. “I can’t make any promises. But I’ll do what I can.”

Jon exhaled hard. The torch drooped in his hand. “Thank you.”

“Whatever. Get out of my way. I’ve got a fucking meeting.” Daisy shoved Jon to one side and stomped up the steps.

Jon didn’t follow her. Instead, he sank back down onto the steps, his whole body trembling as the adrenaline flooded out of him. He tugged the jumper a bit tighter around his shoulders and hunched into it, leaning over and pressing the side of his face against the cool stone of the wall.

That had been an absolutely terrifying experience. It wasn’t just the fact of having faced down Daisy, who was still the thing that scared him most besides the possibility of never seeing Martin again. He really, really hadn’t enjoyed threatening Basira, whether he meant it or not. He tried to rationalize it—it wasn’t as though he’d actually meant to hurt her, or cause harm to come to her, it was just that he was letting Daisy know that if he’d chosen to do it, he could have. He wouldn’t have, but the truth was that he had the means to, and if that meant Daisy understood why he was willing to face her down and ask for her help…

No. No, he couldn’t rationalize it like that. Regardless of his intentions, he’d still done it, and that wasn’t something he wanted to get in the habit of doing. He would need to apologize to Basira later. Maybe get Melanie to help him figure out ways to…not do that again, at least until Martin was back to help him.

But not right then. Right then he was going to stay where he was and let himself hurt. He was going to give himself some time to miss Martin, and be afraid for him. And then, once he’d reminded himself that Martin would come home, and that he’d be okay, he would head back upstairs and deal with whatever consequences he had brought on himself.

For the moment, though, he simply hunched into himself, wrapped his arms as far around himself as he could, and tried his hardest not to cry.

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

Saw this from another group that wants fans to be mindful if we go to Garden Lodge and asking this to be passed on below ⬇️:

OK, so I've just come from my daily walk past Garden Lodge, and I met a lovely woman who is a neighbour on the street, and I'm compelled to pass on what she said.

In her words she said that Mary constantly gets notices from the council for the continuous letters, notes scribbled on paper, cards and flowers left in the perspex/outside the doors and walls. This is due to the general untidiness and also it is a safety hazard...

She also said that the locals regularly get people knocking on their doors to ask to get pictures from their windows- and have been abused when they refuse. Their security has been increased as people are climbing on their walls for a better view, and have had to put broken glass cemented on top of their garden walls as a result.

Mary has people who have to constantly remove the letters, flowers and items left, and they are thrown away. Apparently she also gets death threats pushed under the gates (which if true is absolutely appalling)

She told me that Mary is a complete recluse and she is now quite old and doesn't need this any longer.

She asked me to pass on to fans to kindly respect their street and Mary, and Garden Lodge, and stop leaving items that at the end of the day make it so untidy. Please be mindful the next time you think of leaving a letter or note that Freddie can't actually read them anymore, and maybe send him a prayer instead...!

Passed on with love ❤️

****

It kinda sounds a bit passive aggressive of demanding fans to respect Mary and Garden Lodge when they come to Kensington.

One thing to say is that I don't agree with fans bothering the locals by asking if they could trespass on their property to get a better view of Garden Lodge. Neither giving threats to Mary (despite that I absolutely despise her, she doesn't deserve that treatment if it was true or not).

But I'm wondering if the woman that gave the person what she told her their permission to share this statement with other Queen fans in groups or that she made it up.

Yeah, I was going to say that this can all be completely and utterly made up lmao

Also like: "Mary has people who have to constantly remove the letters, flowers and items left, and they are thrown away." Oh boo hoo, it must be sooo hard to deal with fan letters and flowers 🙄 Literally who gives a shit. That is not a real problem. It's like whiney white people bullshit to flip out about letters and flowers in your neighborhood. Flowers are not a "safety hazard" lol, this is the part that just seems like nonsense to me.

Parts do come across as very passive aggressive towards fans: "Please be mindful the next time you think of leaving a letter or note that Freddie can't actually read them anymore." That's so bitchy for no reason.

If people do send Mary death threats, then yes, obviously that's a problem and I would never endorse that, nor would I endorse people trespassing on others' property to get a better look at Garden Lodge. Those are the only parts of the post which are legitimate to complain about.

[legends-of-time]

The Journey of Living at Downton

Chapter 6: May 1914

Masterlist

Now Emma has had many ideas in her life, some good and some bad. And while this idea seemed like a good one before, is now beginning to not look as good.

Lady Sybil had wanted to see the Liberal candidate speak at the Ripon City Hall Courtyard and since she and Emma have been bonding over politics, she insisted that Emma comes along with her. But as it went on, Emma becomes increasingly uncomfortable and a bit upset with the crowd that surrounds them.

"Last June saw Emily Davison crushed to death beneath the hooves of the king's horse! Will the summer of 1914 prove as fatal for the hopes of women? It cannot! This historic by-election can be the first step of the journey to women's equality!" The speaker yells over the noise of the crowd.

"If you're so keen on women's rights, let a woman speak!" A woman cries. Emma tries to focus but being jostled by the crowd makes things difficult.

"But why stop there? Let's get the dogs up and listen to them bark!" A man adds. Then something is thrown at the speaker.

"Women! Women... are thrown out of jail...!" The speaker continues.

Mr Branson then appears next to Lady Sybil and Emma.

"Are you all right, Milady? Emma?" He asks.

"Isn't it exciting?" Lady Sybil asks.

"It'd be great not to get crushed as well!" Emma says to them. Mr Branson then moves to try and keep the crowd away from them a bit more.

"Only to be dragged back inside!" The Speaker says.

"You're an idiot!" A man yells.

Suddenly Mrs Crawley pushes through the crowd and reaches them.

"Sybil, I think it's time for Branson to take you and Emma home!" She speaks. Despite the lack of interaction between them, it is actually quite nice to know that she knows her name.

"Not yet." Lady Sybil responds.

"I think so. I applaud your spirit in coming, and I will applaud your discretion when you leave!" To be honest, right now Emma feels like listening to her words.

"Maybe we should My Lady," Emma calls.

"But you agree with everything he says?" Lady Sybil says to the two of them.

"I do, my dear, but I also know if anything happens to you, Branson, and possibly Emma, will lose their place."

"Better safe than sorry, Milady." Mr Branson says.

"...is an act of mercy. I disagree." The Speaker yells in the background but at this point, Mr Branson puts an arm around them and pushes a path for them through the jeering crowd.

"The car is just here." He says once they are out.

"Women must get the vote, mustn't they? Why does the prime minister resist the inevitable?" Lady Sybil utters as Mr Branson pulls them to the car.

"Politicians can't often recognise the changes that are inevitable." Mr Branson says, opening the car door for Lady Sybil and she steps in while pulling Emma in alongside her.

"You're telling me," Emma remarks. Mr Branson chuckles at her statement.

Once they are settled and, on their way, Emma turns to the two of them. "I don't think I'm supposed to sit at the back."

"You've just been to a political rally and that is what you are concerned about?" Mr Branson sarcastically asks. Emma rolls her eyes knowing he'll see it through the mirror.

"I say it's fine Emma." Lady Sybil says kindly.

——

Later, when they are further along, "I hope you will still get into politics. It's a great ambition to have."

Mr Branson sighs. "Ambition or dream? If I do, it's not all about women and the vote for me, nor even freedom for Ireland. It's the gap between the aristocracy and the poor and..."

"And what?" Lady Sybil probes but she doesn't sound upset.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to speak against His Lordship."

"Why not? You obviously don't approve of him."

"Not as a representative of an oppressive class. But he's a good man and decent employer." He concludes.

"Spoken like a true politician," Emma remarks. Mr Branson and Lady Sybil chuckle.

Lady Sybil then begins trying to fix her appearance, which has been disrupted. "What do I look like? Could you sneak me around the back? I should hate for Papa to see me like this."

Mr Branson nods and turns the car in the direction of the back of the 'house'.

——

Lady Sybil and Emma enter through the back door. She hears Mrs Patmore yelling at Daisy, Emma knows that she is losing her sight and fears the operation but she literally can't carry on like this.

Lady Sybil runs into William as he exits a room holding a candelabra. This causes Emma to stumble into the back of her.

"Oh!" She exclaims.

"Excuse me, Milady," William says apologetically.

"It is alright William." She says "I'll be upstairs with Emma." It seems only then that William notices her.

"Very good, Milady." He speaks.

Emma follows Lady Sybil upstairs to help her change from her outing. It's ridiculous the amount of times they have to change in one day.

——

It turns out that Mr Bates had accidentally informed Lord Grantham that not only did Mr Branson and Emma had gone to the Liberal rally today and that Lady Sybil had gone with them. This led to a dressing down for his daughter and then also his wife who had given the okay for Lady Sybil to go.

"Her Ladyship's not best pleased at being told off in public. William said she was looking daggers." Anna tells the others in the Servants' Hall when she and Emma enter.

"I'm sorry I started all this." Mr Bates remarks.

"Ah, it's not your fault. Anyway, he ought to be glad he's got a daughter who cares." Mr Branson tells him. Emma and he share a smile.

"You were not to know that he wasn't aware. He's probably mostly mad that he was not in the loop." Emma adds.

Thomas enters. "Her Ladyship's ready to leave."

Mr Branson gets up from the table. "I'll bring the car around."

"Are you pleased with yourself?" Thomas says to Mr Bates. They stare at each other before Thomas follows Mr Branson out of the room.

"Silly chump," Anna says grinning at Mr Bates.

"He's nervous. He thinks I'm planning to tell Mr Carson about the wine." Mr Bates says.

"What? You saw Thomas stealing wine?" Emma asks. Though technically she already knows this, she had hoped it had all been forgotten about after the snuff box incident. This was bad, now Thomas has another reason to get rid of Mr Bates now that Mr Bates is threatening Thomas' job.

"I did," Mr Bates replies. "Now he's worried about what I'll do."

"Well, he shouldn't have stolen it then, should he?" Anna remarks.

"No. But I don't want anyone to lose their job because of me."

"Even Thomas? Even after what they tried to do to you?" Anna asks surprised.

"Even then."

"But he doesn't know that." Emma reminds them. "What if they accuse you first."

——

And they do, Thomas, Miss O'Brien and even Daisy lay accusations on Mr Bates over him stealing the wine instead. Emma can't seem to get a hold of Thomas on his own to talk to him, she knows that he worries that she might talk him out of it.

In other news, Lady Sybil had tricked her father into letting her have Mr Branson take her into Ripon on the false pretence that she's going to a meeting for her bird talk charity when really, she wants to go to the counting of the votes. Her father insisted that she take someone else with her and for some reason, he lets her take Emma even though she was there at the last incident.

Plus, in less exciting news Lady Mary is putting off Sir Anthony Strallen's attempts at wooing but Lady Edith is open to it instead, which Lady Mary won't like. So that's great.

While Mr Carson has not done anything about the accusations, Mr Bates is still down in the mouth considering that despite working at Downton for two years, Mr Carson is suspicious. Though Anna points out to him that the fact he hasn't told Lord Grantham about it shows that he is not truly believing the accusations. It is difficult as if Mr Bates accuses Thomas now as it won't sound genuine. To be honest, she mostly leaves Anna to do all the comforting.

——

Mr Branson drives the motor car around a corner, Lady Sybil and Emma in the back seat.

"Where to from here, Milady?" He asks.

"What do you mean? We've arrived."

"The meeting's in one of these buildings here?"

"This is the meeting. We're here for the counting of the votes." Emma explains. She feels bad for lying to him in the first place.

Mr Branson stops the car and looks back at them. "I don't understand. I thought that..."

Lady Sybil and Emma get out of the car. "Don't be silly, Branson. You didn't think we'd miss our very first by-election?"

The car behind him beeps.

"I don't think His Lordship would approve."

"Let me worry about him."

"Well, he does have to worry about his job Milady." Emma reminds her.

"It'll be fine." She replies. The car honks again.

"I have to park the car. Don't move. Stay where you are!" Mr Branson orders.

"Really, Branson, I thought I gave the orders." Lady Sybil quips. Emma lets out a snort as that was actually quite funny.

Lady Sybil walks into the Courtyard with Emma behind her, leaving Mr Branson to park.

——

A man reads off the vote count as the crowd clamours and jostles each other. Emma clings onto Lady Sybil's arm so she doesn't lose her and she does the same.

The announcer speaks through some sort of speaker thing, Emma doesn't know what it is, "The Honourable Joseph Gerald Antsy for the Conservative and Unionist Party: 6,363 votes..."

"Vote for women! Vote for women!" A woman cries.

"Martin James Dillon, for the Socialist Party: 2,741 votes."

Mr Branson soon gets to them in the crowd. "Can we call it a day, Milady? Emma?"

"Don't be silly. This is the moment we've come for." Lady Sybil replies.

"Trevor Andrew Morgan, the Liberal Party..." The announcer has trouble being heard over the crowd.

"This lot aren't interested in politics. They're spoiling for a fight." Emma glances around at the crowd and she begins to wonder if he is right.

"...is duly elected... is duly elected to serve as Member of Parliament... Member of Parliament..."

"Sybil!" Emma hears someone yell, she turns to see that it is Mr Crawley standing there.

"...for the Ripon constituency."

"What on earth are you doing here?" He asks.

"I couldn't miss this." Lady Sybil says.

"Couldn't you? I could."

"I don't like the look of this, Milady." Mr Branson says looking behind him.

A man comes near them and Mr Branson confronts him. "Look, look, I'm on your side. Don't cause any trouble; you have to believe me."

The man shoves Mr Branson aside and confronts Mr Crawley. "What's your problem, then, Mr La-di-da?"

"My problem is you." Mr Crawley replies. Oh yes, that's going to calm him down.

"Oh, aye?" The man tries to punch Mr Crawley, but Mr Crawley punches back and Emma then feels herself being knocked into and falling to the ground. She bumps her head on a low table and then everything goes black.

——

The next thing Emma knows is she's being carried out of the car into, what she then realises is, Crawley House.

Then Mrs Crawley is there. "Here lay her down." Emma is then placed on the sofa still barely awake.

"Is she alright?" She hears Mr Branson ask. Emma winces in pain as Mrs Crawley then starts dabbing at a wound on her head.

"She will be." Mrs Crawley replies.

"We need to get Mary." Lady Sybil says. "Hopefully she'll help soften the blow to papa."

"I'll go Milady." Mr Branson says. Emma then hears him leave. She drifts off again.

——

Mrs Crawley rings out the blood into a bowl as she treats Emma's head wound as she regains consciousness when Lady Mary enters. This going to sleep after getting a head wound is probably not one of her most brilliant ideas.

"My God." She exclaims before turning to her sister. "Oh, my darling..." They hug each other. Lady Mary then turns to Emma, "Dear god..."

"I didn't know what to do, so I had Branson bring her here." Mr Crawley says.

"Quite right. Mama would have fainted if she'd seen her like this with the thought that Sybil was there as well. As for Papa..."

"This will sting a bit, but it's stopped bleeding." Mrs Crawley dabs at Emma's head again. She's right it does sting. Mrs Crawley then turns to her son. "Did you know she was planning this?"

"Of course not."

"Well, what were you doing there?"

"I was working late. I'd forgotten it was election night or I wouldn't have stayed." He explains.

"I'm so grateful you did." Lady Sybil says to him. Emma isn't really, she can't help but feel like he made it worse.

"I could wring Branson's neck." Lady Mary says.

"What was he thinking? I'm afraid it'll cost him his job." Mr Crawley adds.

"No." Emma weakly protests.

"She's right." Lady Sybil says. "It is not his fault. I told him he was taking us to a committee meeting. When he realised what it was, he wanted to come straight back."

"You'll have to stick up for him because Papa will skin him alive." Lady Mary says.

Mr Crawley then crouches next to Emma. "Are you feeling strong enough to go home?"

"I think so if it's not too much trouble." She replies.

"Not at all." Mr Crawley smiles and offers her a hand to help her up.

"Here, wear my coat to cover the blood. You'll look more normal." Lady Mary says once Emma is standing, placing a coat over her shoulders.

"Lean on me." Emma does so and he leads her out to the car with Lady Sybil close behind.

"You should thank Branson as well." Lady Sybil says once they are in the hallway. "He carried you out. A real hero I think." Emma looks at her in surprise and blush when she sees the smirk on her face.

Once they get to the car, Mr Branson opens the car door and helps Mr Crawley get Emma in the back.

"Thank you," Emma murmurs to him as she holds his hand to get in. He smiles gently at her. In the end, he's the real hero, not Mr Crawley.

——

Mr Crawley helps Emma out of the car and leads her towards the front door.

She halts then. "Should I be going this way?"

"I think they'll let you off this time." Mr Crawley says. Suppose he's got a point as the door to the back entrance is all the way down the side. Going through the front door, then up the stairs to her room is much quicker.

The commotion of them coming in alerts the family in the Drawing room.

"My god!" Lady Grantham exclaims. "What happened?"

A thunderous look crosses Lord Grantham's face as he looks at Lady Sybil as he probably realises she may have lied about where she went.

"I think it's best that we get Emma to her room so she can rest." Mr Crawley says. He and Lady Sybil pull Emma through the servants' door and up to her room. She's glad that she won't have to be there for the argument that is surely going to follow. Hopefully, she'll still have her job tomorrow. Though maybe her being 'victim' as she got hurt, may work in Emma's favour.

——

Once Emma is settled, Lady Sybil says she'll send Gemma up to check on her as she then leaves the room, Mr Crawley had not come inside.

It is not long before Gemma bursts into the room. "Lady Sybil just told me what happened! Are you all right? Is it still hurting? Are you comfortable? Are you—"

"Gemma!" Emma yells before realising that was a mistake and she rubs her head in pain.

"Oh sorry."

"Yeah, you should be." Emma sends a smile to show that she's joking. Gemma laughs quietly in an obvious attempt to not irritate Emma further.

"Well other than the hand," Gemma says. "I've got some news on the wine incident."

"Oh?"

She nods. Gemma then goes into explaining what happened. Turns out the guilt got to Daisy and she's confessed to not being honest. She was there when Mr Carson questioned O'Brien and Thomas. It seems he's not going to do anything now but Mr Bates has confessed to not always having been moral and offered his notice, which Mr Carson refused.

"Wow, you miss a lot when you bump your head." Emma jokes though slightly relieved the worse is over with the wine. Gemma laughs.

——

Gemma offers to sneak Thomas in for a visit as he's asked but Emma says no. she doesn't really want to talk to him now with his recent behaviour. He doesn't come to her before and only comes when his tail is between his legs? She had already forgiven him the last time.

The next day Anna visits Emma to tell her that Mr Crawley had proposed to Lady Mary! But apparently, she has not said yes yet due to not wanting to lie about Pamuk or not marry him 'in a lie'. Emma doesn't fault her but she really should not make him wait too long.

——

A/N: Get your main character injured and in bed and it turns into the shortest chapter ever. Literally, I was like you let Emma be the one that hurts her head but by the time I had begun writing that, I realised she misses the fallout of the wine incident in this episode. 😅 I realised I needed to add my own scenes at the end to finish it off better. Though not going to lie there was some scenes before that I skipped over as I just didn't want to write them. 😅

Btw definition for by-election if anyone was confused (maybe not but I thought I'd put it in): A by-election, also known as a special election in the United States and the Philippines, or a bypoll in India, is an election used to fill an office that has become vacant between general elections.

Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

[tbookblurbs]

The Mummy, or Ramses the Damned - Anne Rice

3.5/5 - sure was a book, weird romances all the way around, well written characters though

SPOILERS BELOW!

Truthfully, I thought this book was going to be the novel version of The Mummy (1999), so you can imagine my confusion when that was not at all the case.

Side bar: The Mummy (1999) is not a very good movie, objectively speaking, but it did spark my first bi panic episode between Evie/Ardeth/Rick, so I still love it.

Moving on. The book is written in an accessible fashion. Rice doesn't mince words but neither is she overly florid. There's explicit discussions of queer romances in the past (and maybe also the present), and to be honest the most interesting relationships in the book are those between Lord Elliot Rutherford and Ramses and Julie and Ramses.

Cleopatra is used as a character, but also as set dressing. Rice tries to have Ramses, a character from the past, humanize her, but then she's characterized in the rest of the book just as she is by misogynistic historians. She can't think beyond sex and revenge. I was quite disappointed with the way Cleopatra was portrayed precisely because Ramses had been waxing poetic about her other, equally important traits.

Also, the premise of this book revolves around an elixir of immortality, which, okay, I can get behind that. But in addition to making you immortal, this elixir also makes your eyes turn a bright blue? And for some reason, that really took me out of the story.

Each of the characters is generally well-rounded and they all feel like real people with contradicting motives and desires. No one feels like a cardboard cut-out, except for Cleopatra at times, and none of the main characters are interchangeable. However, the various romances, either explicit or discussed theoretically, are just ... odd, for lack of a better term. Julie is in love with Alex (sort of), but swept off her feet by Ramses, but also could have envisioned being in love with Alex's father, Elliot, if Alex hadn't been there and says so? Then Alex and his father sleep with Cleopatra, which is already eyebrow-raising, and then to make it even more strange, Elliot is having sex with her while she's still half mummy, gaping wounds and all. Usually, I don't get so hung up about these things, but they would be thrown in just often enough that the statements would throw me off my rhythm and it would take me a bit to get back into the scene.

Very much a "this was a book" read. The description will try to sell this to you as horror, but it's not. I'm hoping Interview with the Vampire is better.

[sevikasleftpussyflap]

How would Sevika react to reader entering the bar during the daytime and loudly calling her embarrassing pet names in front of the other staff just to rile her up?? (Hope you’re having a wonderful day! ♡)

I think this would depend on how far along into a relationship they were but I’m gonna go with a long time because I don’t want to write about reader getting brutally dumped in public💀

Her initial reaction is to act like she doesn’t know you. Honestly she’s so damn good at it that it’d nearly convince you that you had the wrong person if you haven’t been dating her for years.

Sevika pointedly kept her gaze on her drink while she debated with herself on how mad you’d be if she called security. Probably pretty upset, and the teasing on how she couldn’t take a joke would extend much further into the future than she feels she could handle. No matter how much you told her you loved the silver fox look on her, she didn’t, and she had the feeling you were only saying that because you’re the one who put those grey hairs on her head.

“Sevi-kitten!”

Her teeth flashed in snarl at the arm thrown around her, like it did anything to deter you. For too many times she had failed to correct you with a bite and now you were spoiled. Her fault, really.

“I need to hire better hitmen.” Regardless of her cold words, Sevika lifted you into her lap with one arm just as you took a sip from her drink. She smirked proudly at the stain on your top, your pouting face, and the comforting weight of you pressed against her.

“I’m offended you wouldn’t do it yourself.”

It’s a statement of how much she really loves you if she just lets it slide. A well-aimed glare at the bartender or her boys will kill any growing smirks. When you try to embrace her though, she’d place a hand on your forehead and prevent you from getting within arms length of her. She’ll maybe call security to see you panic and then sweep you into a bone-crushing, uncomfortable hug in the pretense that she’s stopping you from getting away.

Embarrassing you back is always good too. This is when she has many drinks in her system, and like the unbreakable hug, she may put you into a headlock or fake wrestle with you. Wipes the floor with you, of course. Repeatedly, lightly shoves you away from her when you go to hug her until you’re giggling and break your composure by telling her you really do want to hold her.

Chugs the rest of her drink because she knows she’ll need it. And because you’ll steal it. She probably drinks the nastiest shit just to prevent you from grabbing it.

NSFW? Calling you equally embarrassing names, but not the cutesy ones. “Cum-slut”, “strap-whore” and any other vulgar title she can think of. Probably teases you with, “oh, just can’t get enough of me, huh?” And then moves to put you on a table in front of the whole bar like she’s about to ravish you. As you sputter and slap at her in embarrassment, she’d loudly exclaim “no? Is this not what you wanted? I thought you said you wanted me to fuck you in public last night-“