#I'm very curious to see what France would be like a boss now with how pro-strike he is

[keiksy-cake]

Hetalia Poll Results pt 2: Character Who You'd Like To Be Your Boss

I think I'd like Japan or Spain to be my boss too. Prussia sounds great too, but even if he's nice, I think I'd just constantly feel a high pressure on me to be as capable as he is. Also, don't forget how strict he was with America!

all collezione pages

[Please note, I’m an amateur in Japanese and have to use various resources and translation machines to help me. If you notice a possible mistake or want clarification, please bring it up to me *politely* and not aggressively or hostile.]

[thedarklyblue]

meera! love u and i want to tell this story again

so. my boss sent me to get a package yesterday. i work in lights and sound, but i like the dumb little tasks so much more so i'm the guy who goes to the mailroom <3

she didn't order anything and had no idea what this package would be! we got everything we needed for the show on monday. so i wander over, hand the guy her id, and say 'hey! i.. have a package?'

he steps into the back and proceeds to hand me this.

it's ziptied shut and beat to shit. it looks like it's been to hell and back. i can't hold myself back from saying 'jesus christ??' when it's finally in my hands.

i have to walk across campus to get back to the theatre building, and the entire time i'm turning it over to figure out what the fuck this is. it's covered in tape, duct and otherwise, and so many labels- most of them are faded or scuffed and unreadable, but the underside is layered with stickers that presumably said something at one point. it's also incredibly beat up, and i'm wondering how long it's been in transit at this point.

i walked into this expecting some extra confetti that didn't come in the first package or something, and instead ended up with a completely incomprehensible object.

finally, i make it back, and hand this to my boss. she Looks at me. i shrug. this is what they gave me! she carries it out to the tech table and very very cautiously snips the ziptie. my coworker wanders past and comments on how this feels like the opening of every national treasure movie.

here i need to clarify that it came addressed to the '[school] theatre manager', not anybody specifically- the mailroom decided this was most likely to be my boss, but as we're figuring out that definitely isn't the case.

we have to open it to figure out who the hell this belongs to, but it really feels like lifting the lid will unleash some ancestral curse upon us, just prior to tech week. we're all too goddamn curious to leave it alone at this point, though, so we open it! to find two disks in a nest of pink foam.

here, we have two identical blu-ray copies of a french movie about abortion in 1960s france, which, luckily for us, has the most ominous fucking name. the date on the disks is a week ago, implying that these were burned recently, and the package hasn't been in transit for any longer than would be reasonable.

here, my coworker picks up the foam to see if there's some kind of contraband in or underneath it- no dice. it appears to be there simply to protect the disks.

now comes time for research! there's three or four different company names in and on the box, and we recognize none of them. looking them up, one takes us to a film company- that tracks! another only appears to lead to a luxury magazine? the third takes us to a nonfunctional website, just displaying a black screen. this feels like an ARG.

i desperately want to find out if the disks have what they claim to have, or some strange fucked up other thing- however, there's no way in hell i'm putting those into anything i own. leaving viruses aside, it's literally going to curse my laptop.

my boss texts her friend on the activities board, thinking maybe they meant theater as in movies? he says that they do have a couple movies coming up, but that's.. not the company they use. he doesn't clarify if this movie is one of them.

the production manager walks by. i corner him with the box. he has no fucking clue what this could be. now, we've roped in another one of my coworkers, and are still no close to figuring this out.

as of clocking out yesterday, that's about where we're at! no leads as to who this belongs to, and no clue of the purpose of these disks. honestly, they're probably going to end up in a corner somewhere- at least i now know that this movie is available on hulu??

can i tell yall about the fucked up mystery package we got at work today

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

Now safely headed home and rescued the hostages, Soap discovers something from the four corners of the infirmary. It's basically a chapter that happened inside the infirmary. Yeah.

Previous Chapter : Alex - Dé jàvu

Chapter 5 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

"Reunited"

John 'Soap' MacTavish

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 Base - Infirmary

Soap grunted at the initial moment he felt consciousness. The faint tune of the radio started to fill his ears followed by soft hushes from within the room.

If I lay here… If I just lay here…

Sharp pain struck his abdomen as he tried to get up, making him wince ang grunt loud enough that the two ladies beside him noticed. He shot a pained glare at them and breathed heavily.

"Look who finally decided to get up." The pale brunette greeted him with a soft smile. This was Samantha, the Daughter of America's Head of Defense, she really looked different from her photos from the briefing and Soap thought maybe it's the continuous days of being unconscious draining her out.

"Hm." Soap muttered as he laid back on his bed. He wasn't strong enough to fully get up yet and it frustrated him that he let out a heavy sigh. He rolled his eyes to France who was giggled beside him. Guess she found his misery satisfying.

"What's funny?" he finally gave in and asked.

"Oh nothing. It's just no matter how fast we ran the bullets will always be faster, huh?" she joked, but there was a hint of grief on her tone, something Soap knew and realized just then. It was unfair, it was the harsh reality. They were both considered fit for those conditions but they were the ones who sustained most injuries.

"Heh." Soap chuckled and leaned to face Maxine. She had a few stitches on her forehead an bandages wrapped most of her arm. Her smile was warm and welcoming, but Soap knew what's hidden underneath. Samantha wore the same smile but hers was just happy to be away from her captors.

"So I assume your British, like the rest of the people here?" Samantha asked Soap.

"What made you ask that?" He replied, curious as to her assumptions.

"You sound different than the doctors and nurses around here. I was just curious." She replied almost intimidated.

"Don't mind him, Samantha. He's just grumpy he got injured because he thinks he's so good at everything." France mocked and they both giggled.

"So you two got something going on? I may have lost my memory but not my senses." She winked. France fell silent and Soap immediately replied.

"It's Scottish, Maam and no. We do not have something. If anything it's rivals. She wants to be better than me."

"Oh. I knew that accent stands out among the others!" she mused. Soap turned his attention to the glass window as Alex and General Shepherd passed by discussing something. Samantha caught up with his behavior and looked as well.

"Shit!" She cursed, loud enough to get the two's attention.

"What's wrong?" France asked, holding her arm.

"That guy… his face… looked familiar." she whispered, her hands covered her hands almost scared. 

"Oh him? General Shepherd. Basically our boss. Why, you met him?" France replied calmly.

"No.. those arm tattooes. I swear I saw those before… they're very familiar." she spoke softly. Soap and France turned to each other and nodded, agreeing not to force her too much on remembering things.

"Arm tattoes are the new thing now. I could get one myself anytime you know." Soap informed, trying to divert attention.

"Really? It won't look good on you. You got noodle arms." France retorted, mocking the Scotsman. This seemed to work as Samantha turned to them and laughed.

"You two are the worst liars." she giggled. Soap didn't mind this but he was glad that Samantha was okay.

Time passed by and Soap continued conversing to the two ladies, sharing thoughts and ideas on each other. For someone who's memory had been played with, Samantha recalls quite well. Her descriptions were very detailed up to the last dot. Soap wondered why this was the case and decided to consult Alex when he had the chance.

When it comes to talking, the girls really took their time, they were discussing a lot of things and Soap wasn't able to catch up with them.

"So, Why France? Is it because of the city?" Samantha asked. Soap gulped as he knew it would be asked to him next.

"It's actually short for Francine." She smiled, Soap just stared at her. 

"What about you, tough guy?" Samantha asked as MacTavish snapped back to reality.

"Got beef with someone back at the parachute regiment. Threw a bar of soap straight into his eye." he muttered, almost embarrassed.

"Quite the marksman…" France mused jokingly.

"Oh, bug off. Bet you can't do it square in the eye at a far distance." he boasted, finally getting up.

"I could try. Why don't you stand there so we can test it out." she retorted and Soap just rolled his eyes at her, convincing himself that arguing with her is a waste of time.

The doors slowly opened and a short blonde girl on a wheelchair was being pushed by a nurse. Everyone turned their heads towards the door and Soap noticed France's soft sobs.

"Maxine… I finally found you." she cried. Maxine just sat still, her eyes were open but it felt like she was looking at the vast nothingness.

"She's still recovering her memory lapses. She could hear you and see you but while her brain is still repairing itself, you couldn't expect any response from her." The nurse added and set her on the bed beside Samantha's.

"Sleep restores most minor brain damages we have. So I advise you to do it as well." the nurse patted Samantha and she nodded as the nurse made it's way out.

"How do you know her?" Soap asked, breaking the silence that occured since Maxine entered.

"She's my roommate." Samantha replied in unison to France's "She's my sister."

The girls turned to each other and started crying. Soap just sat there in awe, knowing nothing about calming the situation down.

"I'm sorry I dragged her into this." Samantha sniffled, wanting to hug France.

"You don't have to… It's not your fault." France replied.

~

The rest of the squad arrived when they were permitted to visit the infirmary, except for Price, who was busy about another upcoming move from Nero. In a small room, on a huge circle like formation. Alex was by the door, crossing his arms and staring momentarily at Samantha and turning back to the squad when she turns to him. Soap was aware they had a past mission together but something happened that made him act that way, another reason why he wanted to talk to him.

Ghost and Roach sat by the sofa, finally addressing his raccon story to the group.

"And so there I was by the dumpster. Spreading my arms establishing dominance toward him." Gary narrated, spreading his arms like that of his story.

"It's all over now Rocky Raccoon. I have you cornered. Now give me back my watch! I yelled and you know what happens next? The raccoon actually dropped my watch and scurried back to the forest! Isn't that amazing!" Gary continued adding sound effects and ambiance in the story. He was always the jolly one in the group. He turned to the girls who were laughing along Roach's story while Ghost and Alex forced themselves not to chuckle.

"What's the value of that watch?" Samantha asked.

"Oh about a few hundred British pounds." 

"No no. The sentimental value. The memories it holds. Why is it important to you?" She corrected. Soap caught Alex staring at her intently, his fists were gripping some sort of pendant.

"My mother gave it to me when I left home and joined the force. She said time is golden and I have to enjoy every second of it." he replied showing his watch to the group.

"Aww.. Roach.." France sniffed and Soap rolled his eyes. It wasn't that sad. He thought.

"Well, your Mum's right." Ghost patted Roach's back and he smiled.

The PA Systems rang again and alerted their little group. It announced about another briefing with the exception of those injured and Alex. Ghost and Roach bid their goodbyes at the remaining people, and they waved back except for Maxine who was still asleep.

As soon as the door closed the atmosphere began to shift as Alex slowly walks toward Samantha. Soap and France quietly trailed their eyes at the event and observed intently.

"You!" Samantha finally yelled and slapped Alex as soon as he was reachable.

"Ow! What gives!" he hissed in pain, rubbing his red cheeks.

"You were that creep I met by my apartment! What are you doing here!" she grabbed a pillow and gestured to hit the man. France tried to calm her.

"That's Alex. One of our allies." She whispered softly.

"Alex? Hmmm. Yeah. He looked like that creep who chased me to the supermarket. But that creep had longer hair and complete legs." she noted, calming herself down and lowering his weapon.

"That was actually me. Samantha." he muttered. Soap and France sat quietly as the drama began to unfold.

"You dropped this. That's why I chased you to give it back." Alex handed her a golden pendant. Samantha quickly recognized the thing and held it tight. 

"Daddy's gift." she sighed.

"You dropped it when you were walking home." Alex added and looked down on the floor.

"Thanks, Alex. I'm sorry if I slapped you." She smiled at him and Alex stared back. It was quite long and France whispered to Soap that "things are heating up'. Do these two have some history or something? Like Romantically? Cause, I can sense it." 

Soap shrugged her idea and looked back at Alex who was now leaving.

"It's okay, Maam. Afterall, I'm just nothing but a complete stranger to you." he smiled and closed the door shut, leaving the four of them in silence.

Next Chapter : A Walk to Remember

[alri-xo]

Ship of Dreams (Titanic 1997 AU) | Chapter 1

Gif not mine

A/N: Hello everrrrybodyyyy so after about twelve hours, chapter 1 is here 🎉 and like... Yeah... I hope you enjoy reading this part bc it's gonna be pretty long. (Italics are short flash backs). Made a few tweaks in how the scenes flow but still, it gets there. Don't worry bout it. And I added links below for you to easily navigate between the current parts of the story, and I'll be doing that for all the other chapters for easier access. Channelling this Bucky (thanks babe @witchymegg ) and post serum Steve in this fic, but in whatever Jack and Fabrizio wore.

Pairing: Alexander Pierce x Reader

Warnings: Age gap?, rich people being rich people, social discrimination, gambling. Swearing... I am on the app so this has no page break

The whirring of the large helicopter was heard through out a far radius, Y/N and Meg seated inside and Diamond on the old woman's lap.

As one of the submarines were being swung over to begin another mission, Jared and Baron walked over, talking. Baron was rather aggressive in his perspective on meeting lil old lady Y/N, calling her an old liar. Saying that her claims that she is Y/F/N is false as she 'died' in the Titanic.

However, Jared was too set in finding the precious jewel to listen to Baron's claims. He'd care less of his friend now that he finally has a walking diary willing to tell the tale.

Jared's Point of View

"She's dead, McKinley... Look it up. She might be another person for vanity... She's an old goddamn liar..." Baron says harshly as the loud propellers of the heli fill the ears of everyone on deck.

"Y'know what, do something you fancy right now, Martins... This is what I fancy, and if you don't want in, go some place else..." I say sternly as I walked over to help the old nutshell out the Sea Stallion.

Claiming that she's dead is rather harsh, now that she's here. In a wheelchair, frail, basically looking like time wasn't too good to her, no... She's no fine wine.

But she is definitely a fine piece of the puzzle, for my reputation and for this shipwreck. Thousands of dollars will go to nothing and will prove Baron right.

I'm his boss. I should be right...

Right?

"Good day, Mrs. Treville... Welcome to the Dal'nomer... I'm Jared McKinley..." I greeted as she was carried down the heli in her wheel chair, a young woman following her as she descended from the small door.

"Hello, Mr. McKinley... This is my granddaughter, Meg..." She greets me as Meg reaches out to shake my hand for a brief moment, following her grandmother soon after, a fish bowl with a few small fishes inside being handed to me.

Who the hell brings their entire house in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean?

💎

"How's the stateroom, Mrs. Treville?"

"Lovely, Mr. McKinley... Very lovely..." she says happily as she looked around the room, "Have you met my granddaughter, Meg? She takes care of me..."

"Yes, we met a moment ago, grandma..." She smiles as I caught Baron roll his eyes and chuckle... I looked at him, making him stop.

"Oh yes..." she says remembering me meeting her granddaughter. A short pause filled the air for a moment, as I looked at the mass of picture frames on top of the bedside table.

I mean, it's pretty inconvenient and her actions are pretty different than any old lady I ever met.

"That's nice... I like to bring my pictures with me... And Diamond of course..." she says pertaining to her white Pomeranian, seated on the foot of ther bed.

Old ladies... Quite peculiar specimens.

But that's not the thing I'm after. I'm after that big juicy jewel, and the story behind it. The safe combination, how did Pierce grab hold of it, of such a controversial piece of pressurized carbon.

"Anything else you need?"

"I would like to see my drawing."

💎

Reader's Point of View

We entered the lab. The white paint prominent all around. Technicians in their white garments as they fiddled with the tech around them, like children playing with their dolls.

They lead me to a place in the lab, a rectangular dish on top of the cold, busy table. A drawing of a woman submerged in the clear water.

"Lay there... Just like that for me..." his steel blue eyes focused as he directed my form, bare flesh but a large gem on my chest, dark as the rim around his irises.

His large hands held his pad of paper as he sketched in dark grey strokes.

His dark brown locks loose on his face as he glanced at me.

His muse.

It puts a smile on my face, as I remember how I was too innocent and certain to love someone for the grade of good, not knowing any better.

Jared nears to me, holding a black and white picture in his hands, the 'Heart of the Ocean.'

"Louis the Sixteenth, wore a fabulous stone called the Blue Diamond of the Crown, it disappeared in 1792. About the same time Louis lost everything from the neck up..." Jared said as he sat beside me, showing me the picture... I just listened to him and the gem's origins.

I always knew it cost a fortune, but now I just realized a thing that I felt back then... A diamond fit for royalty on a girl like me, marrying for what good reason?

It's a gorgeous piece, truly. However, by what Jared is saying, it is one for that of the Olympic Dieties.

"... Today, it would be more expensive than a Hope Diamond," his friend Baron nodded, agreeing that such is worth a fortune.

All I could think was I was both lucky but undeserving of having to wear it. A thing worth more than my whole existence is wanted by these people for whatever reason. I wouldn't want to jump into conclusions.

"Oh, I remember how heavy this was..." I said touching the picture of the necklace and looking ay the drawing, "I only wore it this once..."

Meg looks at me reluctantly, raising an eyebrow, "Do you really believe that's you, Grandma?"

I smiled at her and chuckled, "Why yes, dear... I was quite the looker..."

Jared smiles as my granddaughter giggles behind me. All is well on my part.

However, I can sense that one of the men, Baron, is skeptical of me. I wouldn't want to think so paranoid but, a man like him looks at someone like me differently.

Jared goes on with his story, and I listen, any rational human should do the same, "We tracked in down through insurance records but it was deemed confidential... Do you know who the claimant was, Y/N?"

"I believe it may be someone with Pierce..." I say in a lively tone. But that surname irks me.

Pierce...

"Ding ding ding! The father, New York personality, worked for the Navy as one of it's top asset and next part of his story, became one of the most known socialites of his time in the US. For his son, Alexander Pierce, heir of all that cash, splurged on the necklace during his trip to France..."

He paused a little, "For his fiancee, you... One week before the Titanic set sailed from England. Claim was made after the ship sank... Meaning, it went down with the ship."

Meg looked at the date, dictating it to Jared as he snapped his fingers.

"So if your grandma is who she says she is, it means that she wore the necklace when the Titanic sank..." Baron butted in like an omniscient being, but I don't really mind. What is there to mind anyway?

I can't force someone into believing who I say I am. I have gone through enough in my 100 years of existence and that's a thing I learned along the way, before I rode that ship. I couldn't force even my mother who I think I am... When she was alive of course.

Jared smiles at me like the Cheshire cat, eyes gleaming with anticipation, "And that makes you my new bestfriend."

💎

We went forth to another part of the lab. In front of me stood a table, antiques submerged in the Atlantic laid out in front of me.

It felt as if I was travelling through time, in my younger years. My glory days. The mirror looked in shape, though faded a little and cracked, it's still the mirror I once held.

"My reflection is a little different..." I smiled as I set it down. I took another antique from the table, a hair piece this time and inspected it. It still dawns its jewel toned colors, except it has faded through the test of time.

All these items still vivid in my memory. How new they were and the materials that made up every piece on this table, were so rare and priceless. It's extraordinary how they are still in mint condition, after such a long time.

The people connected to these items however, didn't stand the test of time very well. They come and go.

"Are you ready to go back to Titanic?"

💎

Third Person Point of View

"Live from 12,000 feet," Baron begins with his lecture, a simulation of what happened to the Titanic, the video running the events that lead to the sunken disaster, now at rest in the Atlantic.

Jared thought she doesn't need to know this, but Y/N insisted. She said she was curious, despite her thoughts on this skeptic, Mr. Martins, it would be rude to decline. Men can share.

Y/N, seemed facinated with the tech around her, showing the bottom of the ocean but seemed interested at a certain part of the sunken ship, which made Jared pay attention to her expressions, to unlock memories that may lead him to a successful mission.

He simply can't let every bit of this pass. Not a damn chance.

Baron went on and on... making sounds along the visuals on screen...

"Morse code, DIT DIT DIT..."

"Sank on the bottom like junk, BOOOM..."

"Pretty cool, huh?" Baron says happily, smiling at her, ancient eyes stoic as it ended.

"Thank you for that fine forensic analysis, Mr. Martins. Of course the experience of it was far less... Scientific..." she says, her voice frail, but willing to tell what it's like. Willing to be a primary source of information, a walking book... Diary rather.

"Will you share it with us?" Jared asks, preparing the tape recorder.

Y/N stands from her chair, looking around the monitors, the sad ruins of the ship below. Algae and sea garbage on its once metal hand rails and deck.

Reader's Point of View

I looked at the ruins of the ship from the monitors. Every part of it, every set of stairs, every surface of the ship, I see people, from all walks of life. The door, now rusted and covered in debris and underwater plants.

"Good day, Ms. Y/L/N..." a man says, who works in the Titanic opens the door for me, metal tinted in gold as its windows, the varnished wood engraved with expertly made carvings.

Futher past the door, the ivory staircase on full display. Passengers of first-class in their fine garments and black suits, up and down its grand halls.

It all flashes in my head, before my eyes. All the opulence, the lush life... And how lives clinged to the metal rails for dear life.

I felt my face get hot and my eyes burn as tears ran down my face, my mouth slightly agape as I covered it and gasp in air, as it drowning in my memories and in my emotions.

Meg's face paints to worry, as she takes my wheelchair, "I'm taking her to rest."

"NO!"

My voice strong and in authority. I called Mr. McKinley, and I am here to give it to him. Not for him to aid in my old age.

I sat down with the monitors behind me as the people in the room settled down, Jared holding a tape recorder in his hands.

"It's been 84 years-"

"Just tell us what you can... Anything at all..." Jared interrupts as I began to tell of my experience. Took aback, I thought to myself...

Does he really want me to say what I have to say or he just wants something else out of me?

"Do you want to hear it or not, Mr. McKinley?" I ask sternly, he falls quiet signalling me to continue.

"It's been 84 years, and I can still smell the fresh paint. The china has never been used. The sheets have never been slept in... Titanic was called, the 'Ship of Dreams,' and it was... It really was..."

Third Person Point of View

Everyone was smiling ear to ear, hugging each other as they boarded the large ship. People segregated, the first-class passengers need no such inspection, just by the looks of them.

Third-class however, needs to go through inspection. Health, appearance... Certain things were contagious back in the day.

In the sea of people, old fashioned automobiles honked loudly, the aristocrats. Easily distinguished as gold curls surrounded the edges of the vehicle's doors and windows, one after the other. It's contents may be people or their stack of belongings.

To these aristocrats and socialites, there is no in between when it comes to needs and wants. Every want is a need.

Reader's Point of View

So this is a ship, they say? It's but a big boat to me... Looks like any other ship. So much for taking me here when I could've lived my life on land like a normal girl.

I reached out my gloved hand to the chauffer, helping me off the vehicle. I looked through my wide brimmed hat, the Titanic in front of all the people bidding goodbye.

To these people, this is the grandest ship in their eyes and hearts. For me, who had a fair share of being on different ships, this just looks like a joke to me.

So much for bringing me here, Pierce.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about... It doesn't look bigger than the Mauretania..." I say to Alexander as he stepped down the vehicle.

"You can belittle all other things, Y/N but not the Titanic..." he pressed as if he himself already entered the ship, "It's over a hundred feet longer than Mauretania and far more luxurious... You're gonna love it..."

I walked forth a little to give space to my mother, Katherine, Karen for short. I call her that, but without her knowledge as she likes to make herself be heard and she wants it exactly how she wants it.

"Your daughter's far too hard to please, Katherine..." Alexander says as she helps her off the vehicle.

May I add, she's a feisty one.

"So this is the ship they say is unsinkable, huh?" She says looking at the ship, raising her thin eyebrow. Her hands tucked inside her hand warmers.

"Yes, it is unsinkable. God himself can't sink this ship." He beams as my mother looks at him impressed.

A small man approached Alexander, telling him that the luggage should go to the main entrance around the ship somewhere. He hands him a good tip, a more than good tip. His eyes grow large as Alexander tells him to look for Brock Rumlow, his right hand.

It's funny because his right hand man is nearer to my age than he is.

Choices.

We head off to the ship, my mother's arm linked to Alexander's, looking more like a couple than how we are meant to look the part as I walked passed the third-class passengers being inspected.

We walked on the ramp, the water under it and the people below us.

Upon entrance, Alexander made me link my arm with his. Thanks, mother for finally thinking that you set me up with this person and not you setting yourself up with him.

Although that last part sounds better to me. He's as old as someone like him should be.

It was the ship of dreams... to everyone else. To me it was a slave ship. Taking me to the the United States in chains.

Outwardly I was everything a well brought up girl should be. Inside, I was screaming.

💎

Third Person Point of View

Forget the ship for now, the focus should be inside the pub. A pub full of people from the working class, drinking liquor, good enough that their money can afford, as cheap prostitutes flirted with the men for a quick buck for a bite to eat.

Four men, playing a serious game of poker. Every last bit of coin they had, were on the table. One takes a drink of his brown liquor as he speaks in Swedish.

"Du dumma, satsar du på våra biljetter! (You dumbass, you bet our tickets!)" He says to his companion who snaps his attention to him.

"Du förlorade alla våra pengar och jag försöker få tillbaka dem. Välj nu ett jävla kort! (You lost all our money and I'm trying to get them back. Now pick a damn card!)," One of them says gritting his teeth at his friend, who was playing all he got.

One of them puffs a cigarette, his grey blue eyes focused on his cards and the man across the table. Caring less of his brunette locks getting in the way of his vision.

"Hit me again, Ivan..." he asks as one of the Swedish men slip him a card and he takes it.

His blonde companion, begins to worry a little. Thinking they bet everything and are about to lose everything and stay in Southampton for another long time before they get lucky.

He notices, his voice in a low, raspy whisper, "Don't worry buddy, we've got nothing to lose..."

"We have nothing to lose because we literally have nothing, Bucky..." he says worried, as his friend bet everything they had, except for their clothes...

The ship horn toots its mighty note, alerting the gamblers, Bucky looks around, his competition sweating seeds off his forehead.

"Moment of truth..." he begins looking up at the four other men, anticipation and worry painted their faces, "Steve..."

The blonde lays out his deck, "Nothing..."

He continues, "Ludvig..."

The man lays out his deck, "Oh, squat..." he continues to the other one, "Ivan, two pair... Hmm... Sorry, Steve..."

Steve's face pales, he begins to sweat buckets... Fear rushing over him as he feels cold, palms sweaty.

"W-we lost? I won't be able to see ma another while... Darn it, Bucky..." he begins to stammer and curse... Thinking luck was not on his side...

"Sorry, Steve... You lost and I WON! FULL HOUSE, BUDDY!" Bucky cheers as Steve stands up happily hugging him, kissing the two tickets, "We're going home!"

Profanities streamed from the lips of the two other men who bet their tickets. The poker gods not on their side.

The taller man stood up, over 6 feet tall, maybe 6 foot 7, and grabbed Bucky by the collar. Bucky closed his eyes to take the impact of the large hand balled up in a fist. Instead, he punches his companion, knocked out like a light.

"We're going home, Steve!!"

"America, here we come!!"

Their celebration came to a halt, the pub owner cutting in looking at the two men.

"You're not going to America... Titanic is, in five minutes..." he says pointing to the clock, every second wasting away.

The two men exchanged looks and rushed out the pub, all their belongings they stuffed in their bags like sacks.

They ran in the crowd chasing time, as Steve cheered excitedly as they were coming home.

They ran and ran, cutting between the crowd of people and the honking automobiles. They skipped the line for inspection and went straight to the third-class passenger entrance, Bucky waving the tickets at the guard.

"Passed through inspection?" The guard asks, like he does for every passenger.

"Don't have lice, don't worry... We're both Americans..." He says flushed and panting, waiting to get on the ship to their quarters.

The guard was testy, but there was a sliver of trust shining through, "Alright, come aboard..."

They entered the ship, but it came to a halt. The guard passed the ticket on to another guard to inspect them, to see if they are not posers.

He begins saying the names, "Eklund and... Norberg..."

He says, raising a brow... he thought, 'these don't look like Eklunds and Norbergs...'

He hands them the tickets, granting them entrance to the RMS Titanic.

"Come on, Ivan!!" They ran in the corridor, whooping in victory...

"We are the luckiest sons of bitches alive!"

They quickly run up the metal stair case, excitedly throught the crowd of people finding their way in the ship. They busted out the door as they stood along the people on the poop deck.

"BYEEEE" Bucky yells out to the crowd, as if someone important to him is in the crowd.

Steve looks at him puzzled, "You hung out with some skank?" He asks, knowing that Bucky's a smooth wolf where ever he went.

Bucky shakes his head, chuckling then looking at him in disbelief, "NO, Steve... It's a thing!!!"

Steve shrugged and started waving at the crowd as the ship moved away from the dock.

"Bye, everybodyyy!!! I may or may not forget youuuu!!" Steve yells to the crowd as the ship set sail to New York, back to their country and to their homes.

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A/N: CUUUUT so this is chapter 1 of Ship of dreams... You finally reached the bottom of this chapter... Thanks for reading I hope you enjoyed it 💕 keep saaafe

-Alri

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