#This post brought to you by my absolute exhaustion at sewing

[chiixcat]

Kitten I'm going to be honest with you daddy's about to Niccori kori kill themself

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan receives instruction from on high.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 3,020. Rating: all audiences.)

Chapter 10: Posthaste

Though Trevelyan was too exhausted for stargazing that night, she managed to lay awake in her bed all the same.

Thoughts circled her mind like vultures, swooping and snapping the moment her guard relaxed, and jolting her back to wakefulness. Thoughts of the delegation. Thoughts of the Circle. Thoughts of the Commander.

None were pleasant.

When she finally awoke the next morning, she discovered that Ladies Samient and Erridge were already gone to Montilyet’s parlour for tea. Not wishing to miss whatever delectable—and hopefully distracting—subject they had decided to sup upon, Trevelyan hurried to join them.

“Then, his brother died—”

Lady Erridge did not disappoint. Trevelyan, on entering, caught what seemed to be the tail end of her story.

“—which gave the opportunity to my family—oh, good morning, your Ladyship!—to take over his side of the town. Thus, Coldon was split in two. The Orroats have the East, and the Erridges the West.”

She was sewing as she said this; Lady Samient sat opposite, drinking tea and listening.

“Does any animosity remain?” she asked, welcoming Trevelyan with a smile.

“No, no. There was some at the time, of course, but it was two Ages ago. The Orroats and the Erridges now work together for the good of the people of Coldon—and my friendship with Lady Orroat has certainly brought us even closer!”

Samient took a purposeful sip. “I’m sure.”

Trevelyan found herself a seat on the sofa, next to Erridge. “Good morning, Ladies,” she said, shifting to tuck her skirts in, “I hope I am not interrupting.”

“Absolutely not!” Lady Erridge protested, seconded by Samient. “We are terribly glad to have you. I had worried that it might be only Lady Samient and I—though she is such wonderful company—as the Baroness is nowhere to be seen!”

Trevelyan’s eyes flicked between them. “What?”

Lady Samient confirmed it: “We had not seen her leave her room. I take it you haven’t either?”

“No, not at all, now you mention it. I’m certain everything is fine—perhaps she is simply tired this morning.”

“It could be morning prayer!” Lady Erridge suggested. “There is a little chapel in the garden. The Baroness could have absconded there.”

Lady Samient let out a chuckle. “Oh, I highly doubt that.”

Trevelyan raised an eyebrow. This was exactly what she had hoped for in hurrying here—whatever Samient was about to say, she’d have regretted missing it. “Why is that?”

“It is a curious, but known, fact of Orlais that Val Misrenne has no Chantry.”

Lady Erridge gasped. “What?”

“I cannot remember the details”—Samient waved a hand—“but they had one until around a decade ago, and then poof! Gone.”

Lady Erridge set down her sewing, to think. “How strange. Isn’t Val Misrenne just north of Val Royeaux? I believe the Baroness said so when I met her. How does a town so close to the Grand Cathedral get away with having no Chantry?”

That was a pertinent question. The Chantry were not known to put up with slights—so perhaps it was they who’d chosen to leave. Something to do with the Blight, perhaps, for that misery was a decade ago. Whatever the reason, it had caused either the Chantry to abandon Val Misrenne, or the Baroness to force them out.

“Val Misrenne does have a good guard,” Lady Samient told them, “I have heard the Baroness trains them herself. You must have seen her valets.”

Trevelyan recalled. The armed men who’d attended the Baroness Touledy’s carriage likely made the journey to Skyhold quite pleasant and bandit-free.

“They would have to be good, to intimidate the Chantry,” Erridge said. “Though they certainly intimidated me!”

“Mm.” Samient took a leisurely sip of tea, knowing the room hung on her words. Setting the cup down, she continued, “As I recall, her entourage is usually larger than—”

She was, frustratingly, silenced by a sudden knock at the door. Trevelyan cursed its interruption—and whomever had caused it.

“Come in,” she called, on behalf of the startled Ladies.

The door creaked open, and a young dwarven runner stepped into the threshold. “Your Ladyships,” they said, “I am sorry to interrupt. I’ve letters for you; Lady Montilyet instructed me to deliver them.”

True to their word, the dwarf clutched in their hand a stack of correspondence. Given it had been a week since the Ladies’ arrival, Trevelyan surmised that such letters—those delivered by carrier rather than carrion—might arrive on such a schedule.

“I have one for a Lady Erridge,” said the runner, causing the Lady to immediately perk. Her sewing almost fell off her lap, as she raised her hand to the air. “And two for Baroness Touledy.”

“She isn’t present, I’m afraid,” Lady Samient told them. “You could try her room.”

The runner shifted the undelivered letters to the back of the pile. Trevelyan wondered at the contents.

The next, however, was for Lady Samient—and then, finally, “You must be Lady Trevelyan?”

Trevelyan had in all but physicality left the conversation. The mention of her name wrenched her back, with such force that her breath caught. Who was there to send letters to her?

She offered a hand regardless, and the runner placed her letter into it.

The other Ladies thanked them as they left; Trevelyan, however, was too focused on the piece of parchment in her hand. By the time the gratitude had left her lips, the runner was already gone.

“Oh!” Lady Erridge said, fidgeting in her seat, shaking the envelope. “This will be from Lady Orroat—I recognise her writing on the address! Oh, I am ever so excited to hear from her!”

Lady Samient, meanwhile, already had her letter open—held in one hand, eyes half on it. “Mine is from my father. He sends his well-wishes, and hopes I am comfortable.” She folded it again, and placed it aside. “I shall have to reply, and let him know that Skyhold treats me with excellent hospitality.”

Trevelyan still stared at hers.

“Oh, look!” Erridge gasped, having at last calmed herself enough to tear the seal from her letter. “It is from dear Hul! Oh, she says she misses me terribly—and I do her!—and that she has a surprise in my room!” She leapt from her seat. “Oh, I do hope it’s flowers! Maker, she is too wonderful a friend for words!”

The Lady rushed off. ‘Twas not even the polite hurry of a noblewoman, but the sprint of a giddy little girl. Lady Samient watched with amusement—but when the door closed on Erridge, her eyes found Trevelyan.

“And who sends yours, your Ladyship?”

Trevelyan had stared at the envelope long enough to identify the hand. She turned it over, and the seal confirmed it: this was the stamp of House Trevelyan.

“My parents,” Trevelyan said.

Her thumb found the gap between the folds of vellum, and prised the seal away. The letter unfolded before her, and she read:

‘Daughter, We have heard of your arrival. I write to you now to award you a reminder of your duty to your family. I will not take that you find this man unpleasant, or that he does not suit your tastes. Those excuses have lasted far too long. You will establish effort towards the Commander, as you promised before you left. You have a month to forge some kind of connection, and would be wise not to waste such an opportunity. You have disagreed with most of your matches so far, often on the basis of lacking time to ‘understand’ said match. This is time, which you have been given most generously. Both by myself, and by your kindest host, Lady Montilyet. Use it well, for the purposes we agreed to. Give my thanks to her Ladyship and the Inquisition for their hospitality, and show your gratefulness to them as well; you carry the reputation of our family in their hold. Regards, Lady Trevelyan’

Ha. Trevelyan wondered if it was Missy, or perhaps Cara, who had told her mother. Missy had been the one to walk in after the gala, during her tirade against the Commander, after all. But then again, Cara had been ever so insistent about that dress, possessed of her mother’s selfsame bullishness. Void take them both. Neither could be trusted.

Trevelyan exhaled, and folded the letter back up. She gave Lady Samient a smile, and said, “Just as your father did, they wish me well, and hope all is sound.”

But Samient’s eyes narrowed, as she no doubt noted the wateriness of that smile. She rose from her chair, to sit beside Trevelyan.

“Lady Trevelyan,” her Orlesian accent came all the smoother in its newfound quietness, “are you quite all right?”

“Fine.”

Lady Samient shook her head. “You shouldn’t lie to me, Lady Trevelyan. I do not care for falsehood nor facade. You ought to have noticed that about me, by now.”

Trevelyan might have pointed out how she suspected Lady Samient perfectly capable of falsehood and facade, in the way she had presented her outing with the Commander as perfectly charming. But Trevelyan had no fight left in her.

“You know, some Circles don’t let you send letters,” she said, breathing in to dam the tears. “But Ostwick did. Ostwick did.”

Lady Samient nodded, shifting a little closer. She placed a hand on Trevelyan’s forearm, and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Go on.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s just—I gave up sending them, after about a year.” She bowed her head. “...Because they never replied.”

She didn’t know why she’d ever expected them to. They’d handed her over to the Chantry quite willingly, after all. Their little girl, tossed away like so much scrap. And again now, with this Skyhold excursion. Such a terribly familiar purpose—get her out of the house, send her somewhere else! We don’t want her.

Execpt this time, with one difference.

“This is the first letter they’ve ever sent me.” Trevelyan choked, tears breaching her hold. She threw the letter to the ground. “And there’s not one line to enquire after my health! Not one simple wish for my well-being or happiness. Just instructions. Woo the Commander, or else.”

Why was she saying all of this? To Lady Samient, whom she could barely trust as it was? Yet the cat was out of the bag, now! And there was no stuffing it back in.

“All my life! And the only thing they’ve ever given me is my name. You’re supposed to lose your title, when you enter the Circle,” she explained, “but ‘Trevelyan’ was recognisable on its own. People respected ‘Trevelyan’. I only got the ‘Lady’ part back when I turned up on their doorstep, and they needed me to look like I belong. So even that wasn’t for my good, really.” She shook her head. “I just… don’t…”

She really ought not be confessing herself like this, but Trevelyan hardly cared for the consequences of it anymore. What did it matter? What could she do? Her whole being here was pointless, any attempt she could make—to impress the Commander, impress the Ladies—was pointless! She would fail, she would return home, and she would be sent away again.

That was what the whispers told her.

And yet, Lady Samient, in defiance of them, said: “If I had a child, and they were a mage, I would not send them to a Circle.”

Trevelyan looked at her; Samient did not look back. Her steely gaze was locked on the fireplace. All of the charm and the noble politeness had drained from her voice, and left it cold.

“I would die before they were taken from me.” Her breath turned ragged. She continued, “If I had a child, I would not make them do anything they did not wish to do. I would let them be free.”

Trevelyan’s woes faded, as she noted a single tear roll down Samient’s cheek. She would have questioned it—she opened her mouth to do so—but the door swung open.

“It was flowers!” Lady Erridge cheered, bursting into the room with a bundle of blooms to prove it. “Here, Lady Samient!”

She trotted forth, and produced from her bouquet a silky black flower. As she handed it to Samient, she told her, “Indigo Stormflower, it’s called—though it’s not quite indigo, as you can see. Like you, it is elegant, and mysterious!”

Lady Samient, whom had concealed her crying with alarming ease, accepted the flower gratefully. “Thank you, Lady Erridge.”

Smiling, Erridge turned to Trevelyan. “And for you, a spinwort!” She pulled a wiry-looking thing from her collection, with a small pink flower atop.

“Oh,” replied Trevelyan, “I’ve never seen such a flower before.”

“It’s native to Ferelden. It’s secretive, and can be found growing in even the most curious of places. In flower language, it represents ‘resilience’.”

“That is very kind, Lady Erridge. Thank you.”

“I have a white rose for Baroness Touledy. Looks sharp, but soft and velvety to the touch!”

“I am sure she will appreciate it, and you. This is a terribly sweet gesture.”

Lady Erridge shied away, quite unskilled at disguising her sensitivity to flattery. “Well, I must share my joy with others!” she said, deflecting. “That’s how we all become so happy!”

Her statement made, her next tactic was escape. She bid the Ladies a fond farewell, and hurried for the door. Both waited, until it had fully shut, to raise an eyebrow at the other.

“Flowers, indeed,” Samient muttered. She sniffed her stormflower, and made an appreciative noise. “So many varieties, and such care in their selection. This Lady Orroat truly has an attentive taste. What a good... friend.” With a grin, she asked Trevelyan, “I do wonder, your Ladyship, if we are duty-bound to tellher?”

Trevelyan snorted, in an attempt to cover a laugh. She was hardly surprised she was not the only one to have caught onto the… affection, between Lady Erridge and her friend. “No, no, certainly not,” she said. “We don’t truly know the nature of their friendship. I would hate to ruin such a—”

“Loving?”

Trevelyan chuckled, but shook her head. “Close bond.”

“Very close.” Samient twirled her flower, and watched the petals dance. “Look at us, pitying ourselves, when Lady Erridge seems to be the closest to happiness, yet she does not realise it. We all, at least, have something to gain from the Commander. But if he were to choose her, what might she lose?”

Trevelyan put on a wicked smile. To Lady Samient’s surprise, and even somewhat to her own, Trevelyan said, “I hope he does choose her.”

“Lady Trevelyan!”

“Worry not, your Ladyship, and picture this: the Commander chooses Lady Erridge. We are all in attendance at their wedding. Suddenly, through the doors, riding in on a magnificent white steed, the Lady of East Coldon! She shouts her objections to the Maker and the congregation! Lady Erridge is swept into her arms, and they ride off into the Fereldan sunset!”

Lady Samient laughed, fully, wholeheartedly, for the first time since Trevelyan had met her. She took the achievement with pride.

“What drama!” Samient exclaimed. “Better than anything I have seen on stage!”

Trevelyan laughed as well. In this moment of levity, she saw a world in which her sadness might be safe with Samient. Yet still, it gave her no comfort that, once again, she was entrusting her pain into the hands of a relative stranger.

It seemed, however, that Lady Samient had done much the same with her. In that flash of melancholy Samient had let slip, Trevelyan wondered if there had been some clue as to why she might lie about the Commander.

Perhaps she were like Trevelyan. Perhaps she, too, was simply trying to survive this ordeal, with some semblance of dignity intact.

Trevelyan gazed at her spinwort, and considered how in Andraste’s name that might be done.

***

Her parents’ letter troubled Trevelyan all through work, all through dinner, and all through the night. There was only one way to settle her mind, the panacea she’d relied upon since arrival:

The stars.

Trevelyan ventured out to her spot upon the battlements. With a heavy sigh, she sank her elbows onto the stone parapet, and looked up.

In her time here, they had moved. It was only ever-so-slightly, but the sky had shifted. Progress had been made. And yet, she found herself in the same position she had started in.

She had thought she was moving—taking on this role with the Arcanist, working for the Inquisition—but it was mere illusion. The letter reminded her that, in a month’s time, none of her work here would matter. She would return home, just as husbandless as she had been when she left.

From there, more pointless parties, more banal introductions, more suitors to reject her. Parents who despised her presence.

As she saw it now, there was only one way out. It was to do as her mother instructed. If she could, perhaps, make this Commander like her, then finally, her parents would be satisfied. He could keep her here, well away from them, and she could continue her work. It was certainly better than the alternative. It might even be… nice.

“Commander.”

The nearby soldier startled her, with his greeting. She turned to see the boy salute, and the Commander stride by. (Maker, if she was going to charm this man, she really ought to wear something nicer to stargaze).

“Good evening, Commander,” she said to him, expecting little in return.

But before he could disappear down the stairs, he stopped, and glanced in her direction. It was only a nod that he gave in reply—before quickly departing—but it was more than he’d given previously.

Yet it had taken them a week to get to even this. Trevelyan returned her attention to the stars, and wondered how such a man was to be attracted in only a month. The task was impossible.

But by her parents’ decree, she had to try.

[vostokovasmelina]

— 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝟑𝐂. (𝐬.𝐰.)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢  |  𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢 | 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

characters: fem!reader; sam wilson; archibald the tabby cat; sarah wilson

word count: 3.1k+

warning: mentions and descriptions of alcohol, death, grief, trauma, therapy, depression – i call this post-snap realism

series summary: after the blip, sam wilson gets home to an unpleasant surprise - his key doesn’t fit the lock anymore and his apartment is now inhabited by a stranger and a grumpy feline. however, the unusual encounter is only the beginning of their post-blip lives and the reader soon learns that what life takes away, it can give back in the most particular ways.

a/n: the ending is a dark unedited mess, so proceed with caution

Taking a cautious sip of your hot beverage, you watched this absolute gatecrasher of a man trying to make up his mind about whatever he was so confused about – Sam kept looking all around your apartment as if searching for something he had left there, his slightly lost and disoriented expression sending a sudden wave of guilt rushing over you. Now that you thought about it, it really must have sucked absolute cheese for him to come home hoping he could finally have that huge cup of strong black coffee he had been anticipating ever since having defeated that enormous purple bastard from Outer Space, only to find that his coffee machine was long gone and now this random lady with a philodendron problem and a judgmental cat were inhabiting the place with absolutely no room left for him whatsoever. It did sound tragic when you put it that way.

However, it really wasn’t your fault that you had needed to find a brand new residence approximately five years before. He really should have checked in with someone to make sure he still had somewhere to go home to. You were quite clearly the real victim here. And Lord only knew how poor Archie was going to process all the excitement of the day.

For a few seconds, you contemplated whether or not to put your thoughts into words, and eventually decided against it for the time being. The man had just helped save the world a few days before, after all, and out of what? Good conscience? Personally not for you, but you could appreciate it in others. And it would have been a real shame to die right when your fan-favourite succulents and killer new posting schedule had been attracting more Instagram followers than ever before. Thanks to the savior complex flaming inside of the gentleman standing before you though, the regular civilian had luckily escaped such terrible hardships. And special thanks to approximately a thousand and one other superheroes. Oh, and to an African country filled with similarly public-spirited people.

For a few awkwardly long seconds neither of you said a word. Sam kept looking around and you watched him look around, slowly lowering your mug onto the table and tilting your head slightly to the left. Weird how Sarah had never mentioned the brother believed to be dead for the last five years was this handsome. It is unfair, really. Some people are just naturally gorgeous no matter the shitty kitchen lighting, that tiny confused frown that had been sitting on their face for the last half hour, or those shiny black bugs for eyes tearing up ever so slightly to snitch on a long repressed yawn.

“Now that the drama is over and the Avengers as such are non-existent – have you considered a career in modeling yet?”

Sam snapped his head towards you with such force and speed that for a moment you were afraid you’d have to spend the rest of the afternoon sewing it back on his neck. You grabbed your mug still pretty much filled to the brim with tea and raised it back up to your mouth to hide your lingering half-smile behind a faded portrait of baby Archie on the ivory porcelain.

“Just saying, I would buy anything for this face on the package alone,” you continued with the confidence of a woman who hasn’t got a single drop of shame left in her body. But it was fine ‘cos you didn’t actually mean it, right? It was all just a joke, an attempt at lightening the mood and snapping him out of his puzzled melancholy. And that tiny flutter of your heart upon hearing Sam’s perfect little chuckle was but a momentary malfunction of the organ. The incident was purely physiological. No contribution from any emotional factors. It was simply an innocent coincidence that these two, completely unrelated things had co-occured.

So when your gazes met, you didn’t tear yours away in embarrassment – you stood your ground, completely unaffected and unbothered, ignoring the increasingly hot sensation in your cheeks when you saw Sam raise a cheeky eyebrow at you. Before even more damage could have been done, however, you decided to cut the party short.

“Oh, no. Don’t get your hopes up, Birdman. I simply couldn’t keep watching you in your deeply disturbed state.”

Very, very smooth. Cleared of all suspicion. Good job.

“Wow. Okay. That was cruel,” Sam scoffed and gave emphasis to his words by bringing up his right palm dramatically to his chest, right above his now most definitely broken heart. The overall effect got ruined by an annoyingly goofy grin in the end and before you even realised, you had already reached out for your massive mug again to drown your own erupting smile in the hot liquid.

In the silence that followed, however, you saw Sam’s smile fall ever so slightly, as if exhaustion or worry were holding onto the corners of his lips, physically tugging them down, and you shifted slightly uncomfortably in your seat. It was time you had stopped messing around with the poor guy.

“Look, I know this is weird but I’m sure we can find a solution. Just call Sarah so she can stop worrying now,” you suggested, finishing your tea and pushing the now empty mug to the middle of the table before leaning back in your seat.

“Ugh, yeah,” Sam started slowly, squatting down to get his mobile and the charger out of his massive sports bag. “Can I plug this in somewhere?”

You blinked at him a couple of times while he waited patiently for your answer. You could only imagine the number of missed calls and unread texts waiting for Sam on his phone, but you decided you didn’t know him enough to give him a lecture on behalf of his sister. So you just gave him a tired nod and gestured lazily towards your battered kitchen counter, Sam following your direction with his gaze.

“Above the microwave. Oh, and the socket farthest to the left–”

“–doesn’t work. I remember.” Sam flashed another exhausted but friendly smirk at you above his shoulder, and you allowed yourself to return the gesture to his back once he wasn’t watching.

“Right, sorry. Forgot I was the intruder here,” you joked, delighted to earn another one of those irritatingly lively chuckles of this man’s.

You seriously needed to get your shit together.

“Okay, while your phone is doing its thing, let’s call Sarah from mine, I guess” you continued, jumping up from your chair the moment Sam returned to the table and you headed towards your worn little couch where you scratched Archie gently behind his right ear. “Where have you put my phone, you dirty old man?” You cooed, smiling softly while sliding your hands under the cheap cushions and booping your irritated cat’s tiny nose when your fingers finally touched the cold metal you had been looking for.

Once seated again, you caught Sam staring at Archie, his eyes slightly narrowed in what appeared to be deep concentration. You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head, waiting for your uninvited guest to notice you.

“I don’t think your cat likes me too much,” he finally said, slowly tearing his gaze away from the pet feline’s and looking into your slightly more welcoming human eyes instead.

You chuckled dryly, turning around to see Archie in all his glory on the couch. He simply gave you an unbothered look before completely losing interest in the two of you, and he hopped of the couch, slowly making his way towards your bedroom where you knew he would bundle up under your bed on the cosy carpet. He had apparently decided it was time for his beauty sleep.

“Yeah, he’s like that with everyone. Nothing personal,” you assured Sam, who offered a tired half-smile in return. You cleared your throat gently, eyes fixed on your phone’s screen and fingers already searching for Sarah’s number. Once you had found it, you handed it to Sam whose only job left was to press the call button. You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly and he let out a sigh while reaching out for your mobile.

* * *

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk to Sarah. Quite the opposite, actually. But he was embarrassed. Sam knew full well how furious his sister was going to be. And honestly, rightfully so. He couldn’t argue with that. After all, she did say there had been something she wanted to talk to him about. And Sam did hang up on her without a passable excuse. And he did let his phone die on his way back home to Louisiana.

Yeah, he most probably wasn't going to be nominated for this year's Brother of the Year award.

Their last call had happened two days before. Two days is a long time without any news from a brother who had just returned after having been believed to be dead for the past five years. And if you had been to ask him, Sam wouldn’t have been able to tell you what had gotten into him either but ever since the Blip, something had not been exactly right. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was going on, so he hadn’t brought it up to anyone, but his brain felt slow and foggy as if it hadn't had time to catch up yet.

Sometimes, Sam worried that the molecules in his brain had been mixed up and hadn't been put back into their original places in the process of the whole turning-into-dust-and-back-into-human-form-again thing.

It was a silly thought, yes, but with everything going on in the world, would it really be that hard to believe?

"Hey hon! What's up?" Sam's thought process was cut off by the endearing voice of his sister, and though he was aware all this affection was not directed towards him – given that he had called Sarah on your phone – his heart did swell upon hearing her again.

And then he said hi and it all went south from there.

Sarah was obviously pissed.

She asked Sam if he had any idea how many texts and missed calls she had left him, and no, he had no clue but if he had to guess, the number would have been way high up in the double digits.

Then she started going off on Sam, using different kinds of actually very creative euphemisms – which was a problem because Sam got so distracted by his sister's choice of words that her short, well-thought out rant had very little effect on him, but at least he had enough self-respect left to get his sister off speaker at this point.

"Look, Sarah, I know I messed up but I'm fine! I swear," he started, cutting his sister short while subconsciously picking at the skin around the nail on his index finger with his thumb. "What if I stop by Andy's and tell him to give me their best apple pie?" Sam added, hoping this promise would serve as an ice-breaker. Sarah did love her desserts. A lot. And Andy always gave a discount to the Wilson family, too.

When he heard his sister's tired sigh, Sam's heart gave a hopeful flutter, but he was rudely dragged back onto the ground on his way to cloud nine the very next second.

"I'm doing the shopping at the moment. Just got here and it's gonna take long," Sarah replied, annoyance poking through all her words. Then, the tension that had been dominating the pair's call suddenly seemed to evaporate as Sam sensed a weak shadow of a smile in her following sentence. "But that apple pie does sound good."

Sam couldn't help the grin that creeped its way onto his face and he didn't even care about Sarah's semi-serious threat, saying how they were nowhere near finished yet. He muttered out a quick sorry again, promised Sarah to give her regards to you and finished the call with a charming 'I love you' to which his sister replied with a snarky 'I bet' before hanging up with a promise that she would call again when she got home.

Sam let out a relieved chuckle before handing you back your phone and taking the final sip of his slightly lukewarm coffee, watching your bright red-nailed fingers tap away on the device, and he swallowed harder and probably louder than he had meant to. You just happened to put your phone down the very next second, so he tried to cover up the gulp by clearing his throat and shifting his gaze from your nails to your eyes.

Beautiful eyes.

Well shit.

"So, I guess you're staying," you started hesitantly, raising your eyebrows at Sam in a slightly impatient manner, which snapped him out of his blissful thoughts and thrust him back into reality.

Was he staying? He certainly had nowhere to go now that he was practically homeless and his sister was unable to welcome him in her own home for the next two hours, at least. But then again, you were a complete stranger whose afternoon he had just disrupted, and it didn't matter how weird it felt seeing you be so at home in his apartment because it wasn't his anymore. It was yours and you had all the right to kick Sam out and he had absolutely zero right to argue.

But, thankfully, he didn't have to.

"Which is fine, by the way. I did promise you an explanation, after all." Sam couldn't quite ignore the hint of dread behind your words and he was ready to object, to leave you alone and spend the rest of his afternoon doing God-knows-what, but then you offered him another cup of coffee followed by a tiny but honest smile, and Sam just couldn't bring himself to say no.

* * *

Sam Wilson was ridiculously easy to open up to.

It made you want to commit a crime.

His gaze was so intensely warm that after a while, you were looking at everything in your apartment but him just to avoid accidentally trauma dumping on him, especially when you got to the part about group therapy.

Because you had met Sarah at a group therapy session approximately four and a half years before.

It had been clear from the very first minute that neither of you had actually wanted to be there and that both of you had been forced into this situation. Sarah had been dragged to group by an overly enthusiastic co-worker of hers whose crush on the counselor had been probably more intense than the trauma she had suffered – she had lost a dog and her neighbor to the right whom she had always talked shit about behind his back. She was a nice enough woman, but considering that people had lost actual family in the Snap, her presence had always been mostly aggravating, to say the least.

In your case, it had been your grandmother who had bullied you into going to one of the sessions because 'she had the same rotten mentality when Miss Taylor told her to go but then she found it life-changing'. At this point, you had become so indifferent to everything in the world that you hadn't needed much convincing to go. You had told yourself it would be one session anyway after which you would have told Grandma Ethel that 'therapy was simply not for you' and could have been back to your usual Thursday evening routine consisting of a cheap bottle of red wine and depressing reruns of trashy British reality shows from the late 2000s.

The actual sessions had never worked for you. They might have if you had actually spoken up at any of them but you had never become quite ready to talk about your loss in front of a dozen other people, most of whom you had already known. But then you had met Sarah and something about her had made you feel secure, secure enough to talk about them for the first time, so you had started hanging out at a café not too far from the community center and it had become the best thing in your life.

"And the rest is history," you finished, getting up from your chair to put both yours and Sam's mug in the sink and watered your nearby plants while at it.

"I'm really glad Sarah had someone by her side," Sam commented and you could hear a hint of guilt in his words but you decided to ignore it. You simply nodded and muttered out a weak 'yeah', saying you were just as happy to have found a friend like Sarah.

Then Sam said something that made all the muscles in your body tense up and you froze completely for the next couple of seconds.

"And have you seen your family yet? Now that they've come back?"

It was an innocent question. He doesn't know the whole story. So calm down.

You slowly put down the glass you had used earlier to water your plants and tried with every particle in your body to put on the best toothpaste commercial-worthy smile you could force out of yourself before turning back towards Sam and answering his absolutely understandable question.

"Yeah!" No. "They're doing well, actually!" They're fucking dead.

Sam's genuinely happy smile was way too much to handle and if it hadn't been for a call from Sarah, you would have broken down in tears right in front of him the very next moment.

So instead of all that, you decided to turn right back around, pour yourself a huge glass of cold tapwater and down it in one breath while Sam finished his brief conversation with his sister. The stinging pain in your chest that followed was enough to distract your thoughts until he was finally at the door, saying goodbye and thanking your for the coffee and saying sorry for intruding and taking absolutely way too fucking long to finally leave.

"Hey, um... I could give you my number? If you ever need anything or..."

He can't be serious.

"Sure! You can, ugh, put it in my phone," you replied, your hands shaking dangerously as you reached into your back pocket for your mobile and handed it to Sam, who knew better than to comment on it.

Once finished, he returned your phone with one of those irritatingly joyful smiles of his and with a final 'see you around' Sam Wilson was off and you proudly patted yourself on the back for successfully holding it together until you finally reached your couch.

* * *

mini-series taglist – let me know if you want to be added

@softieyn

@mahvericks

@amirahiddleston

@fireghost-x

@samuelthomaswillson

@itsnottilly

@loveyhoneydovey

@songofcosplay

@titaniumstark

@falcons-wings

@claudiaatje

@srodulvroux

@annathesillyfriend

@lokiandbuckylove

mcu taglist – join here

@babymango-writes

@softieyn

@spencereidisabicon

@whutisthus

@katethecrazy

@swanimagines

@amirahiddleston

@remusflirts

@musicallisto

@skinny-bitch-juice

@teti-menchon0604

@anon-2837282

@sarai-ibn-la-ahad

@heart-eyes-horan

@lxncelot

@amortensie

@claudiaatje

@gimmelovepls

@raven-emxralds

@whovianayesha

@the-jess-life

[queerchoicesblog]

Random But Worth Asking

Ahoy, mateys! I know that this is random but you (maybe?) know/figure out I am a huge Black Sails fan. I am perfectly aware that the show has come to an end like big time ago BUT the other day I found a few Max x Eleanor fanfics I wrote.

I’m considering editing and posting them if anyone is interested/still somehow invested in the show/pairing (I know they’re controversial but they are my absolute fave characters and heartbreaking romance). So far I only know one fan who might be in for that, good old friend @andi-the-cat​ so that’s why I’m asking!

A couple of previews under the cut!

The silence was defeaning.

It was the first thing that Max noticed as she set foot in Miss Guthrie’s former office. The room that until a few days ago was filled with a costant chatting noise, the place where decisions were taken and deals sealed, were the most ferocious pirates gathered in front of Eleanor begging mercy or spitting curses was now as silent as a graveyard. “The cunt is gone for good!” people cheered in the street and you could tell by how unually quiet the infamous office was. All was at its place as usual...except Eleanor now locked up in the hold of a Navy ship heading to England to face a trial for her many crimes. 

Yet -Max thought, closing the door behind her- she was still here, somehow.

Her presence lingered there, like the spicy perfume she put on and intoxicated Max in the old days and nights. She was in the compass Flint once brought her from God knows where and was still sitting on her desk, on top of a stack of papers. The paintings portraying unknown  faraway landscapes that Eleanor somehow loved because "they remind me that there is a whole world out there, off these shores: a world I will never see probably, but still something to look for".   And Eleanor's chair. A memory hit Max as her eyes fell on it. It was night and Eleanor exceptionally allowed her to come with her in her office since Max refused to part from her. Max was buzzed that night: she had too much rhum trying to match Eleanor. As her Angel searched for some documents she had a look around: she had fantasized about that place so much, about being in that place with Eleanor that she couldn’t resist the urge to make herself a bit comofortable. "Hey Eleanor! How do I look?" Max posed as Eleanor sitting at her lover's desk, a playful smile on her lips. Miss Guthrie turned and flashed a tired smile back to her. "Like a real Queen of Thieves" she whispered conspiratorially before resuming her search. Max lazily grazed the arms of the dark ebony chair. "Who knows, maybe one day I will be the Queen of this place" she teased. "You should watch out, ma belle!" She laughed, Eleanor did too but it was a grim laugh. She turned and walked to Max. "I will, sweetheart. But I frankly I don't commend you" "How come?" Max pouted. Eleanor leaned closer, sighing, and Max noticed the signs of exhaustion at the light of the candles. When her Angel answered there was a hint of melancholy in her voice. "Because I'm pretty sure that chair is cursed. It consumes you and forces you to do things you hate and regret sooner or later" As the image of her past self pulling Eleanor vest and silencing her lover with a hard kiss, Max took a seat on that chair. 'Miss Guthrie's throne' as people call it. She sat there and it didn't seem cursed to her. She felt powerful now, like Eleanor certainly did once. There was no doubt though, that it had been fatal to her fallen Angel, but to Max it had to do with Eleanor, not with the role of Queen of Nassau. The curse she warned her about was her own curse, the curse that ran in her veins like a maladie. She blamed that chair for her own fall when she was just the one losing everything because of her stubbornness and foolish ambition. At least so Max thought.

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

"I didn't think you liked corsets so much" (Max) couldn't stand the see how Eleanor now played the role of this dignified societal lady that hardly said a word too busy pretending to enjoy sewing and sipping lukewarm tea with her stiffen maiden. Her hair were now impeccable, her fingers bare. Max could hardly recognise her: so little was left of the woman she fell for when she was younger. That Eleanor hated corsets, sewing and made fun of how the English were so inapt to need maidens “as if they couldn’t even lace their shoes properly without help”. That Eleanor loved rings, she had tons. That Eleanor, her fallen angel disappeared in the winds when she set sails to England. Eleanor looked at her before diverting her eyes. Then she pressed her lips together as she always did when she was troubled, and moved to the window. "Do you think I like corsets?" "You wear them every day: I should have got it all wrong. Please accept my apologies" Max noted, sure that her honeyed tone wouldn't trick Eleanor. They didn’ t fool Eleanor, who gave a bitter laugh in full response. "No need for sarcasm, Max. You know what I think of corsets and why I wear them: I lost everything, that -alas- includes my old clothes as well. They took the ones I had away from me in jail and I'm sure you didn't save the one I left her too" That wasn’t fully true but Eleanor was mostly right. It had been petty of her to make that comment and she knew it. [.....] "You're changed" Max confessed, in the end and after much internal debating. Eleanor looked at her: Max was avoiding her gaze but surrendered. Her face twisted into a pout as she didn’t want to let such confession out of her chest like that. No matter how much they hated each other, how distant they grew with time: wherever they gravitated around each other again they just knew as if they never forgot a secret code unknown to anyone else. And Max knew that Eleanor noticed the pained warmth mixed with anger and sorrow behind her words: ‘I still care, you see?’. Eleanor had always found her tendency to pout like a child extremely endearing. Miss Guthrie’s face softened for a moment before she turned grim again.  "You too" Max was caught by surprise by those words.  “I always wore corsets” she protested to cloud the issue: now it was her who stubbornly gazed into the horizon refusing eye contact. "True, maybe just less fancy than the ones you wear now. You have now what you dreamt once: nice dresses, a fancy room of your own, money in your pocket, Nassau at your feet yet you hardly seem happy or a queen, despite the throne you own. Look at you" she smiled grimly. "You have this little wrinkle right here, it wasn’t there before” Without thinking, Eleanor raised her hand as if to graze with her slender fingers the spot but stopped almost immediately, reminiscing that she was not allowed to do so anymore. Max certainly wouldn't like that intimacy. But Max noticed and her chest tightened. She couldn’t decide wether she would have liked to feel Eleanor’s touch again: that woman always found a way to mess with her head. Judging by the conflicted expression on the former Queen of Thieves’ face, Max had the same effect on Eleanor.

“That’s not a nice thing to say to a lady” Max laconically commented. “We all have to age soone-”

“That’s not what I mean” Eleanor sighed, interrupting her.

When she spoke again, there was a hint of melancholy and nostalgia in her voice and eyes.

"You always saw the bright side of literally everything. You were so full of hope and naive enthusiasm. You were like...a little ray of sunshine in a stormy sky. I-I loved that: when you were around every trouble seemed bearable, temporary because of the light you casted. It was in your eyes, in your smile, your words, your-” Eleanor pressed her lips together, refraining from sharing such secrets in a world that could only blame their gestures of love so hurtful to reminisce. “Now that light has gone, Max. You can’t sleep at night worrying when the next blow comes, you brood because some lazy insolent lads refuse to show you the respcet you deserve and that they would show to Featherstone or any other man. You spend so much time trying to make sense of British, pirates and any litle fights, you frown after every compromise you had to take to keep sitting on that chair. You find yourself picturing the worst scenarios and how to avoid them instead of dismissing them. You’re...no longer the Max I met once too”

[theycallmebabycakes]

Any good fics you recommend?

Oh, I’ve got a few. I wish I had more, but I don’t have as much time to read as I used to. Also, since I didn’t have an ao3 account until I started posting fics, I’ve lost a lot my favorites just because I’m a disorganized mess.

I’m in a lot of fandoms, as you can see if you browse my tumblr, but unfortunately I didn’t create an ao3 until bnha, which is my current hyperfixation. Because I didn’t have anywhere to save my favorite fics from other fandoms... well, all this list has is bnha.

And, now that I have an ao3, I’ve been saving all of my bookmarks publicly, so that anyone who visits my account can see what I like to read. The highest on my list are also listed below in no particular order, though the first one holds a special place in my heart.

Let’s start with the fic that, quite literally, was the reason I started posting fanfiction:

Wide Closed Eyes - TheTortoiseQueen

The horrors that All For One committed seemed to be limitless. When the Symbol of Peace is brought to meet "SUBJECT 349: MEDUSA", he finds the one person All Might himself cannot save.... So, for the first time in years-- If ever-- Yagi Toshinori will have to do.

Queenie dragged me in, ripped my heart out, and had Toshinori sew it back together again. She has several other fics that I strongly recommend, but WCE is the one that changed me. I came to ao3 to fall (further) in love with Eraserhead, and fell for All Might, instead. And it’s all Queenie’s fault.

Chucklehead - mighty-mighty-man (Pair-Up)

You are an undercover detective.

Your latest case ended thanks to the joint efforts of the police and Pro Heroes. In the wake of success, a barbeque is held to celebrate, and you are the guest of honor.The problem? You are the most socially awkward person you know.The other problem? Your case wasn't as open and shut as you thought.The other, other problem? Sir Nighteye has his sights set on you.

Mighty can write one helluva story, with incredibly deep, well-thought out characters. I’m pretty sure Mighty is extremely well-known in these parts. But, listen. If you want a feel-good, giggle-fest of a fic, this is where you go. Read Mighty’s other stuff, but always fall back to this one. I certainly do.

Love and Honey - Mahoroba

You're a retired heroine. You were never a household name, and "retirement" suited you. Well, except for the chronic underemployment and readjusting to real life. But we can't all be super popular, super big heroes - and honestly, there's a place for "paper pushers."

Too bad Principal Nezu knows who you are. Or rather, who you were. And now, facing the gates of UA, you're surrounded by heroes that don't know what to make of you. Truth to tell, you don't know what to make of them, either.

I can’t describe to you how much I love Mahoroba’s Aizawa. He’s dry, ruthless in a fight, and unbelievably cute. Mahoroba’s characters, and a special relationship they write in on the side, are incredible and delicious. Strongly recommend, if you’re looking for a soft Shouta who can still kick ass.

Blood in the Water - Stonemedusa

You were gentle, soft, and an absolute pushover with a smile taped to her face. Sometimes though, a part of you dreamed of what it'd be like to... be different. To be strong. To stand up for yourself and say 'No', to hate the people that used you and threw you away when they were done.

Blood in the Water is a mixture of fun and realistic. Stonemedusa does a great job of exploring how exhausting a healing quirk would be in this world, while keeping all of the characters interesting and in-character.

The Babysitter - Pockettmonsterr

All Might’s and your rivalry had always been semi-friendly. Well, you tried to keep it friendly. It was a little hard when all he saw you as was a villain.You were a small time thief, plaguing California with your mischief. Always managing to escape All Might’s grasp at the last second.Years later, after therapy and paying for your crimes, you’ve started a new life. You’re feeling better. Refreshed even!But that relief is quickly crushed when a familair hero shows up in your backyard. And he isn’t convinced you’ve changed your villianish ways.Things only get more choatic from there.

This one was recommended to me - literally - two days ago. I haven’t gotten far, but I love what I’ve seen! I’ve always been a sucker for the villain/hero romance dynamic.

[bangays]

Okay y’all, here’s a bunch of stuff I’ve learned about sustainable living and urban farming. Keep in mind, I’m no expert and I’m always learning, but what better way to share my knowledge and learn more than to make a giant post? I’m going to put this under a read more so when I update this I don’t have old versions floating around and so it’s not a super long post. Also, i’m more than happy to answer any questions or add in any knowledge you may have!

This is version 1.0, updated 4/24/18

Anyways, I’m going to do this in three main parts: “I have no yard but I still wanna grow my own shit” “I have a yard and wanna grow shit” and “I don’t wanna grow shit, what else can I do?” Keep in mind that tips for each area could be modified or used if you fit in another category, so reading through the whole thing could be worthwhile! For example, the “I don’t want to grow” category has a lot of tips for sustainable living outside of growing produce. Also, I’ve lived in northeast Ohio my entire life so this specific growing zone (6a / 6b) is what I’m basing everything off of and have experience in. This is a link to GROWING ZONES, which tell you how hardy a plant has to be to grow in your specific location. Most plants on their seed packet will say where they are best for growing.

But first! Good tips for everyone:

Keep all food prep waste and food that’s started to rot for compost! If it came from the ground, it can go back into the ground! Composting is an extremely easy way to reduce your waste and it’s literally free (and fertilizer is so crazy expensive) Here’s a wikihow article about composting!

If you’re going to throw something away, try to think of ways you can use it! I’m not saying keep the button that fell off your pants that you’re never going to sew back on bc you’ll just become a hoarder, but if you have old containers, or something antique looking, see how it could be reused! This is called upcycling! This helps stop waste, reuses perfectly good items, and keeps plastics out of landfills! This is a cute article about upcycling for examples! 

Look into specific laws for your community! Some municipalities do not allow for farming on the tree lawn or do not allow for tall trees, fruit bearing trees, etc. If you go to or call your town hall there should be someone there to answer your questions bc going through legal documents is absolutely exhausting. 

Look into if your city allows chickens / ducks or if you have a fairly large yard, goats! They’re super great animals (that I honestly have minimal experience with) but do require much more love and care than a plant. Farm animals can live for years and require professional medical care, so if you’re v tight on funds I would not suggest this. Also, if you would not be able to kill a farm animal, there are many places that will do it for you or that you could sell it to for a lil profit. 

Rain barrels! Water from gutters is a great way to water plants, and some people even connect their shower drains (if they use plant-friendly soaps) to rain barrels to reuse the water for gardening! Obviously, do not use rain barrel water for human consumption because it has not been properly treated & we’ve put so much harmful shit into the environment. The simplest way is to get a giant ass bucket (like 20+ gallons) and reroute your gutters into them. (most gutters have one main gutter on the side of a house that most likely drains into the sewer system) (Also, do not make modifications to a house you do not own / are renting / etc) Here’s a simple way to make a rain barrel!

THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT TIP BEFORE WE START: If you want to plant something that does not naturally grow in your location, PLEASE make sure it is not an invasive species! This is a link to learn more about invasive species!

I have no yard:

Obviously, not having any green space makes any food production difficult. But! As long as you’re creative, there’s still a lot of ways you can grow your own produce. The best way if you don’t have any green space is to look into a local community garden. This is the best way to learn, because there’s always people outside tending their own gardens & they’ve always been super friendly. Also, this is a great way to get to know neighbors and get involved with your community! I know the community garden near my previous home in Cleveland had a start of the season fee, but they always had a garden coordinator on sight, tools available to borrow, and seeds to plant a garden with. Obviously, even community garden is different due to most being grassroots organizations, so I can’t speak for all of them. But, you’ll get a small square of land that’s all your to cultivate for a growing season! A small garden like this could easily be well managed by a 20 minute visit 3 times a week for weeding and watering. (If you live in a v hot and dry climate, you’ll need to visit more often)

Do you have windows in your apartment? (I sure hope so bc legally you have to) Window boxes are an easy way to grow herbs and small plants! These could be as simple as a old plastic container or if you’re crafty a wooden window box can be super cute! Here’s a link for how to make your own window box!

Do you have doors in your house? (God, again I sure hope so) Do you know those plastic shoe holders that go on the back of a door? Grow herbs in these! Obviously, this has to be in a room that gets a lot of natural sunlight. Or, if for some reason you don’t have doors, or just can’t stop yourself from slamming the door, just hang it up on two command hooks! This is a great way to grow your own herbs, because herb plants are typically p small and won’t rip through the plastic.

Grow your own potatoes / onions in planters inside! Potatoes and onions typically need much less sunlight than above ground plants. This is a link for indoor potatoes! This is a link for indoor onions!

I have a yard!

The first thing to do is see where water puddles in your yard. If you plant something in an area that typically has a 3 inch puddle when it rains, it’s not going to do well. Improving drainage is pretty labor intensive, so another option is to build raised beds! If you have the time and resources, here is an article about improving drainage!

The second most important thing is to look at where your yard has the most and least sun throughout the entire day! Plants are grouped into three specific categories, full sun (6+ hours a day), partial sun (4-6 hours), or full shade (Less than 4 hours). If you plant something that prefers full sun in a full shade area, it’s going to die practically instantly. This is an article that further explains sun / shade!

The next step is to design your garden! Every plant has a minimum distance it must be planted from other plants. Also, if you plan on having dogs or chickens, make sure you leave a space for the dog to poop & the chickens to graze so they do not destroy your hard work! Also, some vine-like plants (Such as tomatoes or beans) need a stake or a cage to grow around. There are many different garden designs and every yard has a different amount of sun, so pre-made designs should be used as a guide, not an absolute. This is a link to 19 different garden designs!

Do you want to grow corn or anything else tall? Great! DO NOT PLANT THESE IN NORTH-SOUTH LINES!! Corn grows to be 6-7 feet tall, and will cast a giant shadow on your other plants! If you plant them in a East-West line, they will cast a much smaller shadow on surrounding areas but will not impede the other corn plants. 

I don’t want to grow my own food:

Hey, I get it. Some people don’t have time and some people just don’t want to grow things. There’s a lot of things you can do to help live a sustainable life!

Take the bus / public transportation as often as possible! I know this is a basic example and many people use this as their main trasportation, but there’s so many people that refuse to use public transportation. Yes, everyone has a public bus horror story, but 99% of the buses I’ve been on have been super clean & efficient! Also, if you live ina rural area, I know this is not really an option for you. If you cannot use public transportation, car pool! Currently, 86% of Americans drive by themselves to work, which is super wasteful! 

Support your local farmers market! I know they’re known for selling honey for $7 for like three tablespoons, but there really is no better way to support you local farmers than to buy their produce! This also helps remove the grasp big business has on your community and keep money in your community, which most likely will be reinvested in your community! Most farmers markets are weekly and are held on weekends! If you look up your city / neighborhood there should be links to nearby markets!

Offer your yard to someone that wants to garden! I mean, free landscaping and they’ll probably offer you fresh food! But also, make sure you trust this person enough to give them free reign over your landscaping and you wouldn’t mind seeing them 3 times a week when they tend their garden.

Donate! Most urban gardens / garden collectives are 100% grassroots organizations, so donations keep these organizations going! I know living in the rust belt, we have so much land that was sitting vacant that is now brought back to productive use by urban farms! Urban farms help stabilize housing markets in neighborhoods and remove blight, and are one of the best hands-on ways to help fight food deserts in communities that cannot support a grocery store!

If you don’t have a local urban garden, start one! Even if you don’t want to grow food yourself, starting an organization that lets other people grow food in your community is a great way to bring a community together! Many land banks have programs where you can “rent” vacant land from them for a small fee (The land bank for Cleveland is $1 per year, I believe). Also, if you start an official nonprofit, that’s a great thing for your resume and all money you invest into it is tax deductible! giving your community the ability and the knowledge to grow its own produce is an amazing opportunity to bring a community together and has a great impact on a community’s health!

Thank y’all so much for reading & I hope this was even slightly helpful! Any questions, comments, suggestions, etc are greatly appreciated!!

[yogaoneaustralia]

18 for 2018

For those of you who are into Podcasts, perhaps you’ll enjoy listening to “Happier with Gretchen Rubin”.  It’s a fun, entertaining podcast, where the author of “The Happiness Project” and “The Four Tendencies” talks all things happiness (and their hacks) with her sister (whilst they’re on opposite sides of America).  One of the recent podcasts mentioned compiling a list of things to achieve in 2018 (Podcast 147), noting that they are not “resolutions” to achieve in the New Year, but rather, they’re things you’d like to do throughout the year, making sure there is a fair spattering of fun activities in there, to ensure that the list doesn’t seem like a list of “chores”.

Here are mine:

1.     Go plant-based (cut out dairy when at home and within my control)

- this is something I’ve been toying with for some time, but already being a fairly strict vegetarian, in a family of omnivores, and with the desire to travel and taste worldly delights, I have kept pushing it aside.

2.      Cut down working within the farming businesses (my hustle)      to focus  more on my side hustle (yoga) – go to three days per week at     farm

- this has been a CONSTANT work in progress for me.  I have worked my guts out within the farming businesses since we moved to Swan Hill.  Even having a baby wasn’t a speed bump; and I went straight back to work after having Coco, and have barely slowed down.  I am ready to step back and let my passion for teaching and sharing yoga with this community flourish.

3.      Spend focused time with Coco on her schoolwork each week

- working all day at the farm and then teaching yoga either before or after work most days doesn’t leave much time for me to be the focused parent I’d like to be.  Hopefully when point 2 kicks in, point 3 will evolve more easily.

4.      Only watch TV in bed one night a week

- this is not something I am proud of, but it has become such a guilty pleasure of ours!  When we moved into our house nearly three years ago, it came with a television attached to the wall in our bedroom, and we’ve become somewhat accustomed to settling in at the end of the day to watch t.v.  GMan works long hours, and loves to tune out and de-stress at the end of the day by watching something; and since he comes home late most nights and is exhausted, this has become a habit of ours.  EEEEKKKKK!!  Once upon a time I had such judgement for people like us!!

5.      Read more

- see point above.  Reading has been replaced by tv!

6.      Do more yoga/meditation/self study

- it just makes me a better person.  It’s where I want my energy to go this coming year.  

7.      20 minutes of personal yoga practice EVERY day

- I don’t have a lot of free time, so my personal commitment to a daily yoga practice (just me doing yoga by myself; not teaching) isn’t as daily as I’d like it to be.  Hopefully if I cut down my time within the farming businesses I will then have more time to focus on this passion.

8.      10 minutes of meditation every day

- see above.  After teaching yoga in the morning, then working all day, then teaching at night, followed by normal family chores, sometimes I am so spent I can’t even just lie and be still and meditate for 10 minutes (or even two!!).  I need to reframe my perspective so this can happen.

9.      Drive a Vespa through Italy

- this is an easy one to tick off, as we’ll be going to Italy next year, but it will be a very cool one to tick off.

10.    Call far-off people I care for (at least two calls a week)

- I am crap at staying in touch with people. I have an “out of sight, out of mind” attitude, but when I do see them, I give them my absolute all.  I need to make a better effort at staying in touch with those who mean so much to me (as unfortunately some of them get precious about me not staying in touch, and it can end up being to the absolute detriment of the relationship). Throughout my life there have been so many people who have had a huge impact on my existence, and having traveled so much, it means I’m not with those people who made an impact on my formative years.  I want to express my gratitude to them more.  Plus my family, who mean the world to me, but are all so far away.

11.     Write at least five times a week in my gratitude journal

- so much benefit, but again, something I have until now not prioritised.

12.     Help Coco cook one thing each week

- “let food be thy medicine”.  I wasn’t brought up with a true love for food, and I think it is so important.  It is something I want to prioritise within my own little family.

13.     Massage once a month

- Just ‘cause it feels amazing, and self care should be a valued ritual.

14.     Reignite my creativity for pleasure

- Yoga gives me this, to a huge extend, but there are also other parts to my creative desire that I’d like to reignite; art/sewing/photography.  Having a creative child makes this much easier to achieve, as it’s some thing we can share together.

15.     Do something fun/special for Gaethan and my relationship once a     month (equal commitment from us both)

- We’ve been married for nearly 13 years, and it’s the relationship I really need to focus on the most, as without our mutual love, our family is nothing.  Working together all the time also means that our relationship has to wear a few hats.  I think it’s really important that we compartmentalise our relationship and keep our working relationship at work, and our fun husband and wife stuff for home.

16.     Let Coco choose a weekly activity we set time aside to do together

- When I get too tired and feel like I have no free time, I tend not want to do anything fun with her (unless it’s something that I want to do, like go for a bike ride together, and she doesn’t always see that as being fun!!).  I need to shift that.  

17.     One blog/website post a fortnight or interaction with my yoga   students

- hopefully if my side hustle becomes my hustle, then this will just happen more organically (rather than it feeling like “extra homework” as it does now!!) 

18.     Tend to my garden and veggie patch (at least one hour in total per   week)

- I love the idea of this, but due to lack of time, it’s not something I have prioritised.  I love my veggie patch, and find it so rewarding to harvest things from my own garden.  I also love my home, but do nothing on the exterior of it to reflect this.  I want both these to change.

What are some of the achievable things you can do in 2018 to make it a kicker of a year?  Only a week out from the new year, I’m feeling like she’s going to be a beauty.

  ��}r:�

[thecrazydragonlady]

Midnight Dates

Author's Notes: It's mah birthday! So have a fanfiction because that's what I do to celebrate! (PS- It's not done! I'll be rewriting to make it longer after March.)

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Synopsis: When Chat Noir appears on the Paris skyline, Marinette knows that something is wrong. She just doesn’t know if it’s him or Paris. Post-reveal fluff.

When Chat Noir appeared on the skyline, everyone knew that they were safe; he was only one part of the heroic duo that kept the citizens of Paris safe from the reign of terror that was Hawkmoth. However, no one noticed that he was alone tonight. He jumped across a set of buildings. His heart was pounding and the warm evening had a light layer of sweat shining on his forehead. The magic of his partner made it possible for him to see every step he took even if the lights of the city failed to reveal certain nooks and crannies; his feet landed with the assuredness of the very architect who built them. He didn’t know where he was going. He was just going at this point.

You knew the day had been a disappointment when even Plagg had pushed him to run. Adrien realistically knew that his father would always put his company before him but he thought that maybe today of all day’s he would’ve at least shown his face. After all, his mother’s birthday was only once a year.

Adrien wasn’t even upset for himself. He was used to being ignored by him. His mother, despite being gone, despite being in a state of unknown, didn’t deserve this. For a man who claimed to love her, he had a funny way of showing it.

Chat flung himself faster across a roof. He started to continue on with his run when he heard someone say, “Chat Noir?” He froze. In the darkness, he could clearly see a young woman standing on her bedroom balcony, her brow furrowed with worry as her hands clearly tightened on her railing. His face paled. He really hadn’t been paying attention but he’d definitely meant to not bother Marinette of all people. She was so busy. The last thing she needed were the woes of her partner. His face paled as he realized that she had turned from her railing to go to the hatch of her room to call down for her own partner Tikki.

Crap.

She was going to transform.

After coming to school exhausted from the akuma battle the night before.

Chat swore to himself before making his way over to her balcony. He landed just as she stood back up, Tikki hovering by her head. “Tikki, spots…hey!”

He ran up to her. Quickly, he raised his gloved hands to cover her mouth. She glared at him, mumbling protest under them.

“No, no, no. Don’t transform. Everything’s alright. I just needed to run is all.” He smiled at her softly. “Besides, you need to rest my lady.” She jerked away from him, the glare not fading.

“And what of the great Chat Noir,” she snipped, “Does he not need sleep too?” He waved a hand at her.

“I’ve had worse hours at work before.”

“And?” She cocked a hip, placed her hands on them, and continued to glare at him. Chat fidgeted. Marinette, Ladybug, always had a way of making him feel exposed; she always seemed to see through his many masks and coping mechanisms and expose the real him. He had no choice but to confess.

He sighed, “I just needed to run Mari. Promise. Everything’s alright. I just needed a break from my schedule.” She hesitated but eventually her demeanor softened. She reached out a hand and he closed his eyes, leaning in. True to his cat-like nature, he loved having his hair petted or chin scratched. His tail switched happily. The smaller girl reached up to scratch his ear.

That was until she grabbed said ear and yanked him down into her room.

He stumbled, not exactly shocked by her strength or sheer ability to drag him wherever she wanted to take him considering he was very aware of several times that she’d thrown him or things bigger than her. The sudden motion though was a different story. He went from standing to nearly doubled over. She pulled him through the hatch where he almost landed face first on her bed but he corrected himself quickly (but awkwardly) as she continued pulling until he was in the room. She practically threw him on her lounge. He landed with a grunt. Chat blinked. Marinette pointed at him and half growled, “Release Plagg. Stay there. You move and I will skin you alive Adrien.” He nodded quickly and silently. It wasn’t often that he feared for his life but he did right then and there. Just as soon as she was sure he wasn’t going to disappear, she went down to the living room below.

He straightened himself on the couch before releasing Plagg. For once, the kwami didn’t grumble or complain about being abused; he merely eyed his chosen before disappearing to cuddle with Tikki. Adrien took a deep breath. His eyes wandered around the room despite having already been in there on several occasions like the time they practiced for the gaming competition or right after the reveal to plan how they were going to search for Hawkmoth. The room was still super pink and decorated like any room a girl should have. Only hers had a lot more in the way of sewing supplies; he could see the blank form of a new outfit forming on the dressing dummy.

There was a mild question he had about who the intended audience was for it.

Obviously, the dress was based off of Chat Noir as it was his signature colors and came with a belted tail.

He was still flushed red when the door opened again and Marinette returned with her hands delicately balancing a fully loaded tray. There were sweets of every kind on it. Adrien felt his mouth water, realized he missed dinner, but clamped his mouth shut. After all, he couldn’t break his newer diet….

Marinette placed the tray in front of him on the lounge. He blinked. “What…?”

“Eat,” she ordered, taking one of the cups she’d also brought to fill it with a hot liquid. Hot chocolate he guessed. Adrien hesitated but reached out a hand for a cheese Danish. One bite was like being in heaven. The Dupain-Chengs always made the best sweets but the beautiful balance between sweet and savory was pure bliss on his tongue. He finished that one quickly and reached for another.

Marinette merely watched him, sipping her drink. She said nothing. She did nothing. She only touched one, two, of the sweets at most. Mainly, she just stared at him, not allowing her eyes to waiver from him. Adrien was used to being stared at but this was different. She was waiting and he knew it.

After his fifth or sixth sweet, he slowed down.

By his eighth or ninth, he was crying silently.

By his tenth, he was ranting.

He ranted about everything he could: his father, his mother, Nathalie, the Gorilla, school, modeling, fencing, Chinese, his mother’s birthday, her disappearance, his father’s lack of care, the stress of everything piling up. He ranted about being a useless hero, for always getting in the way of danger, for attacking her when the akuma controlled him, for being… for being…. Marinette stopped him then. She reached out a gentle hand to grasp his. He flinched and then froze, his eyes turning to her, staring. Her face was soft.

“Thank-you Adrien,” she soothed.

“For what? I haven’t done anything!”

She shook her head. “No, you did. You came to me. You spoke to me. You told me honestly what was wrong and that takes a lot of courage; maybe even more than facing Hawkmoth.” She sat her cup down, slid the tray out of the way, before reaching for him and pulling him into a tight embrace. The tears were falling again. He didn’t hesitate to reach up and squeeze her back. Her shirt was soaked several minutes later. When they pulled apart, she smirked at him, brushing some of his hair from his forehead. “I’ve heard of it raining cats and dogs but this is ridiculous.”

“Princess,” he dead panned, “leave the puns and jokes to me. That was absolutely clawful.” She giggled and poked his nose playfully.

“Right. Anyway, you up to getting thrashed in Mecha Strike before you head home?”

“Sure but fair warning: I’ve been practicing. I will not be so easily defeated!”

“We’ll see about that,” she teased, tossing him a controller. The hours flew by and Adrien threw the controller down and fell back into the chair he’d been offered, his head leaning over the back edge, his hair falling and revealing his forehead. Marinette giggled, poking his cheek. “Kitty, I thought you were going to beat me?” He playfully swatted her hand away.

“I’m going to win one of these years.” She stood to collect the empty cups and the tray. Adrien stretched. He watched her for a little bit. “Hey… Mari?”

“Hmm?”

“I just… I just wanted to say… thanks. For listening. I’m feeling better.”

“Of course,” she chirped, “what are partners for?” She stopped cleaning long enough to ruffle his hair. “But don’t abuse Plagg like that. Both of you need to rest.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked her,” said kwami added, flying down to join his chosen.

“You agreed to this,” Adrien spluttered. He shrugged. The blonde glared before ordering the transformation to take hold again. He paused before taking off.

“Can-Can I come back,” he asked. “Later of course. Another day.” Marinette smiled and nodded her head.

“Goodnight Adrien. See you tomorrow.” He returned the smile before climbing up to her bed and disappearing out into night, his heart fluttering harder than it had ever fluttered before.

He returned the next day, looking down trodden again. Marinette shook her head but let him in to rant and watch some anime on her computer. The third time was just for fun. He showed up with some expensive sewing supplies which she squealed over and used immediately to make a cute vest, hat, and purse which she wore that week to school. Eventually it became routine. Sometimes he showed up because he needed it. Sometimes it was because of boredom. Sometimes he just wanted to hang out. Mecha Strike got a fair amount of mileage on it, several more outfits were made and modeled, several animes were completed, and on nights where he opted to stay over, they woke together with their legs tangled and her hair usually in his face. He chuckled before brushing it off with his fingers and wishing her good morning. They jokingly began calling them their “dork dates.”

Over time, Marinette was pleased to see her and Adrien growing closer. They became comfortable with gentle touches and caressing. Adrien braided her hair sometimes. She often stopped him in the middle of the hall to take some measurements. One time Mari even asked if he was coming over for a DD. The room was nearly in a panic. What was a DD? Was Marinette illegally drinking? Was Adrien supporting this? WHERE THEY PLAYING DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS WITHOUT INVITING ANYONE ELSE?

They fielded the accusations rather well, only smiling when asked something ridiculous.

Then Rose innocently asked, “Are you two dating?”

The room exploded. Questions came from everywhere but the two in question shot each other a look and laughed before turning back to quell the madness.