#and i personally reconnected with ear biscuits this year

[crackers4jenn]

Link: We have a relationship that’s not for anybody else. Ya know? And I think that—

Rhett: You mean our sexual relationship? That’s kinda what you’re making it sound like.

Link: No, okay, no, not… it’s not a sexual relationship.

Rhett: Don’t give the tumblr people anything they don’t already have.

Link: I mean, you can—any way you wanna try to interpret it, it’s just like, I’m not inviting you to do that.

EB #363 (Our Top 10 Moments of 2022)

[mahalkitajohnnysuh]

Lost and Found

It’s all about balancing different genres in this blog, so here’s another melancholic piece. 

But before I make you sad, here’s a cute Johnny GIF that’s sure to put a smile on your face.

Mahal ko kayong lahat! :) 

–––

Summary: Essie is not her usual self again for quite some time, and Johnny’s starting to get bothered by it. They talk it out, and in the process, learn more about how to make their relationship work. 

POV: I think I wrote this during the start of the year, so this is in 3rd person. 

Word count: 1,600 + words

–––

Essie was slowly losing herself again – the present part of her, that is. 

She found herself holed up in her room most of the time, reading and writing. She watched series by herself sometimes when she felt like it. She needed all the inspiration she could get so she could compose songs. 

Her trip to her home country triggered something in her to be more immersed in the things that she has almost forgotten. 

In college and during her first years at work, she would always have a book in her bag. She would read whenever she was bored or when she waited for her transportation on her way home. Sometimes, she took the time to go to a café, notebook and pen in hand, to write all the quotes from the book she was reading that have inspired her. 

She lost this habit when she moved on to a much hectic job in publishing, which she is still in but in a different country. 

It was as if her trip to her homeland had rekindled her previous passion to the point that she barely talked at home. 

Her boyfriend, Johnny, was concerned. This was not the first time that she distanced herself from her loved ones. 

When she was guilty of her week-long affair with his best friend Jaehyun, she almost killed herself. But now she was living in her bubble and avoided long conversations with anyone as much as possible. 

That applied to him as well, which hurts. He could barely get ten words out of her before she went back to her room after they ate breakfast or dinner together. Most of the time, she ate by herself. When he wasn’t able to cook anything, she would do so herself or get takeout. He was concerned that she had food delivered more often than having a home-cooked meal. 

Despite her aversion to people these days, he noticed that she was more at peace with herself. There was a look of content in her face as he saw her in her room reading a book. Sometimes, he felt her passion for writing when he would look at her write swiftly in her notebook. 

He never fully closed the door to his room so he could always have a look at what she was doing. And of course, the possibility that she would come to him and tell what was up with her. 

But it has been three weeks already, and she continued to float in and out of her world. He felt as if he was gently kicked out, leaving him no explanation and just standing outside of it. 

This time though, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He would break into her world again and demand that he deserved a space inside. He loved her so much that he couldn’t risk losing her to anyone else, not even to herself. 

\\\

Essie, who continued to believe that she was losing her present self, sat on the couch reading another book. 

She knew she was all alone since Mark was abroad, and Johnny left early to work out. She had at least three hours to herself to do what she pleased inside the house. 

She put on an old record and played it softly, opened the windows to let the breeze sway the curtains, and put in a new bunch of flowers from their backyard. She even prepared a pot of her favorite tea and a plate of biscuits on the coffee table to serve as her snacks when she gets hungry from her reading.

The setting was ideal – oh, how she wished she got that beautiful white Gunne Sax dress at the thrift shop to make it even more perfect! She looked down on her peach lace dress she was wearing and smoothed its skirt. She was fine with what she was wearing. 

As she continued to read and flip through the book she was reading (another bizarre Japanese literature book she picked up from the discount bookstore), she didn’t notice that the door opened, and Johnny entered in his gym clothes. He wore a muscle shirt, jogging pants, his trademark black sneakers, and a baseball cap in the same color. As he gently dropped the bag on the floor, he saw his girlfriend humming as she turned to a new page. 

She looked so peaceful with her curly hair down and saw that she wore a smile on her face as she continued to read. 

He didn’t want to ruin her moment, but he wanted to have a moment with her for so long. 

Sneakily, he went behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulder. “Hey baby,” he whispered, kissing the side of her head, “I haven’t seen or heard from you in ages.” 

His action made the girl stop and place her book on the table. She squeezed his forearms gently and looked up at him. “Hi Johnny,” she whispered back, flashing him a smile. “How are you?”

Her response was a bit heartbreaking. It was as if she had lost in touch with him even if they see each other every day in the apartment. He didn’t let his emotions get the best of him as he kissed her forehead. “Baby, you’ve been distancing yourself again. Why is that?” 

She gestured him to sit beside her on the couch, which he did by jumping over and immediately wrapped his arms around her waist. “Oh, have I? I’m sorry if that’s the case…” He noticed that her hands were still on her sides. 

“Baby, you’ve got to let me know if you need space. I can’t just always guess it by the way you’re acting. You have to let me know if you want to have some time for yourself. And I’ve missed you so much. You’ve been away for two weeks, and yet your mind’s still away now you’re here for almost a month,” Johnny was on the verge of crying as he expressed his sentiments to Essie.

The girl watched him closely – the way his eyes crinkled in distress, the way his eyebrows knitted together in the middle, and the way his lips pouted at the end of his short speech. She was re-familiarizing all these things, as she has forgotten about it momentarily. 

“I’m sorry, John. I didn’t mean to, but I guess you could say that. I do need my own time. I wanted to process everything that happened recently.” 

“Did something happen during your trip?” 

It was Essie’s turn to become emotional. “Yes, dear. It was as if I have reconnected with the person I used to be, the person I wanted to be.”

They stared at each other for a minute, observing each other’s features. Johnny missed looking at her cute button nose and her plump lips while she missed staring into the fading acne marks on the side of his chin. Every small detail counts with them, and these were the things that they kept in mind about each other whenever one would be gone for quite some time. 

“What do you want to be, my love?” 

“I’ve always wanted to be an artist of my own.”

Johnny closed the small gap between them, making his girlfriend sit on his lap. “What do you mean by that? Do you want to act, sing, draw, paint, or whatever?” 

“Well, you’ll see when you watch the vlogs I’ve made. They’ll be up…” Essie glanced at the wall clock across them, “maybe later in the evening. I collaborated with a close friend of mine with the editing.”

The guy’s eyes widened in shock, and he squeezed her tightly. “Wow, my baby has a vlog now! I can’t wait to watch it,” he pecked her on her temple. 

“I think it’ll have installments. So you’ll know more about me then,” she said softly before pecking his cheek. 

He let out a soft ‘oh’ before raising an eyebrow at her. “Is there anything else I have yet to know about you? Don’t I know everything yet?”

His question made her go back to her original spot on the sofa and pick up her book again. “Yes, John. There’s a whole lot of things you don’t know about me still. And maybe you’re the same too. After all, we’ve just started going out. You don’t expect to know everything yet about your partner, right?” 

Johnny stroked his chin while in deep thought, slowly digesting the words she said in his mind. 

“Fair enough. But still, baby…communication is key. You’ll let me know what’s up with you, okay? Don’t keep me guessing or push me away suddenly. Because if you continue to do that, then it might affect our trust with each other.” 

Essie sat still, her eyes boring into him. Her hands were neatly on top of her lap, her book delicately perched in between her thighs. 

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I’m not so sure yet when I’ll be back to my usual self. Or if I’ll be back at it at all,” she chuckled, thumbing through the book and looking for the last page she read. 

“Essie…” He pulled her back again into his chest, and she buried her face in it once their bodies intertwined with each other. 

“Johnny…” She mimicked, her soft voice sounding strange to her ears. 

“Please, baby. I can’t afford to lose you anymore. I want you so bad in my life. Please don’t leave me.” His words were muffled against her hair, but she heard them. 

“Please give me a bit more time and space. I’ll just be here. I won’t leave,” she responded, looking up at him with glassy eyes. 

He kissed her, and she returned it, and once again they were reconnected with the love they have for each other.

–––

FIN

[jamesbarnesappreciationsociety]

Jessica Barnes: Jr. CEO (One Shot)

Summary: This is the cutest company takeover in history.

Pairing: CEO Daddy! Bucky Barnes x OC: Jessica Marie Barnes

Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson

Scott Lang and Peter Parker

Word Count: 1,879

Warnings: Angst; fluff

A/N: @stevieang, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to beta read for me. Your insight is greatly appreciated.

Exquisite Designs, a commercial architectural firm owned by longtime friends James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers, boasted some of New York’s wealthiest clients. For over 17 years, the firm built some of the most elegant office buildings dotting the skyline in New York City.

Their number one client is Stark and Wilson Land Development. The firm was currently working on the Howard and Maria Stark wing of Mt. Sinai hospital" It was a 24-7 project with big deadlines, big pressure, and big payoff. This project held a special place in Bucky’s heart. His wife, Lillian, died from a brain aneurysm, leaving behind an adorable daughter with rich brown hair like her father and hypnotic amber eyes identical to her late mother.

Her frail body lay in the lovely king size sleigh bed. Different hues of blues dotted the sheets, comforter and blanket. Blue is her favorite color. James Buchanan Barnes, held his wife Lillian’s dainty hand. He knew her time on Earth was drawing to an end. Sunken eyes turned towards her husband whispering, “Please promise me, you’ll live for Jess.”

“Don’t know how to do that without you, Doll.” Bucky wiped the steady stream of tears from his face. 

With a faint smile on her face, Lillian Marie Barnes closed her eyes. Shoulders shaking, Bucky sobbed openly, kissing her hand. “I love you, Lillian. I’ll do my best for Jess.”

Steve heard his best friend crying. He then realized, his “Lillie Bug” was gone. Trying to explain to a 3 year old that her mommy was gone, Steve put it this way. “Munchkin’, ya remember when your daddy told ya that mommy would go to sleep forever?” 

Jess nodded ‘yes.’ “Daddy said mommy was Sleeping Beauty, but the Prince couldn’t wake her up. So, she’ll be in Heaven watching out for us. Is she an Angel now, Uncle Stevie?”

“Yeah, Lillie Bug is an Angel.” Jess crawled in her uncle’s lap, “I’m sad.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” Burying her face in Steve’s massive chest, Jess cried herself to sleep. 

Following Lillian’s memorial service, Bucky spiralled into deep depression. No longer able to care for her, Jess mourned the loss of her mommy and daddy. Signing temporary control of Exquisite Designs to his best friend, Bucky sought the nurturing spirit of Lillian’s parents, Raymond and Bethany. They agreed to keep their granddaughter as long as needed. Unable to understand why she wasn’t with her daddy, Jess often cried, becoming clingy. 

Three months later, Steve kicked his friend in the ass, explaining Jess longed for her daddy. Losing her mother had taken a toll on her young life, now she needed him to get it together. 

Realizing Steve was right, Bucky planned a father/daughter vacation to Maui. As you would imagine, Jessica was delighted. Boarding his private jet, the duo made their way to crystal clear water, sugar white sandy beaches, for a chance to reconnect with his daughter. Tucked away in his luggage were photo albums, holding page after page of heartwarming memories.

Sitting in Bucky’s lap, Jess wiped the tears cascading down Bucky’s face. “Daddy, don’t be sad. Mommy is in Heaven. She can see us, just look up.” 

Turning her gaze towards a cloudless sky, Jess baby girl smiled and whispered,“Mommy told me to take care of you.” 

“Thank you Jess. I Iove you so much. Please forgive me for not spending time with you. Your momma was my world. Following her death, life just wasn’t the same. I neglected the one person who needed me the most; YOU!”

“Daddy, it’s okay.” Her face was sincere and her words showed the goodness deep within.

“No baby, it’s not. From now on, I’ll take more time off.” 

Her face lit up like a carnival in the night. “Really?? Yippee!”

Upon returning home, Bucky thought of a wonderful way to honor his wife’s memory. He approached Steve about plans for “The Lillian Marie Barnes Child Care Center.” A free center for all employees of the firm.  Parents could be there at the beginning, middle, and end of the day and didn’t have to worry about their little ones while at work. The age limits were: infants 6 months - 1 years old and children 2- 4 years old. Employees, as you could imagine, were ecstatic. 

Since “The Howard and Maria Stark Children’s Wing” was on schedule, Peter Parker, Director of Marketing, pitched an idea to Bucky. 

Gathered around the spacious cherrywood table were upper management and their executive assistants. Facilitating the meeting, Peter laid out his plans for “Kids Takeover the Firm Day.” “I thought it would be fun to take a day off and let the kids run the company. We’ve worked extremely hard to meet all our deadlines and it’s been accomplished.” Everyone listened attentively.

“Have you decided on a date?” Bucky leaned on the table.

“How about this Saturday? The phone lines won’t be operational just in case one of the kids decides to call out, and our answering service would alert us if they received calls that weren’t caught by one of us.”

Bucky added, “You might be onto something Peter. I’m sure they would love to dress up and  play Junior Executives for a day.”

Nat and Clint’s twins, Mason and Jason, would serve as Jr. Executive Assistants to the Jr. CEO.

Steve agreed, “Jessica should serve as Jr. CEO.” 

Bucky couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you sure? I don’t want any favoritism.”

“She’d make a great Junior CEO!” Wanda’s eyes sparkled.

With this in mind, Bucky suggested taking the remainder of the day off. “Alright, let’s get the ball rolling. I have a little CEO to shop for.”

Bucky made his way to Jessica’s preschool class. She immediately sprinted to his arms.“Hi sweetheart. How’s my girl?” 

“I’m fine daddy. We learned our ABC’s and numbers!” Jess’ smile mimicked that of her mommy’s.  

“What? My goodness you’re smart!”  Bucky kissed  her cheek, nose and forehead before dropping the big news on her.

“Guess what? On Saturday, all the kids of the moms and dads that work for Daddy and Uncle Steve’s company get to be in charge for the day. Uncle Steve has promoted you to Junior Chief Executive Officer - the Big Boss.”You’ve been deemed Jr. CEO.”

Unable to contain her enthusiasm, Jess sprung up on her toes. Pumping her fists in the air, she jumped around declaring, “I’M THE BOSS...I’M THE BOSS!!!”

“Peanut, there’s more to being CEO than just saying you’re the boss. Remember that it’s important to always treat your employees with respect.”

“Okay daddy. I’ll be good.” 

“How about a shopping trip? You’ll need new clothes, a briefcase, and shoes!”  There wasn’t much his girl loved more than going shopping.  She was all in now.

“Let’s go!!!”

TIME FOR WORK

At 8:00 on the dot, decked out in her navy blue “suit” and carrying her briefcase and phone, Jessica Marie Barnes, Jr. CEO, reported for work. 

Natasha’s twins Mason and Jason, donned brown two-piece suits, cream shirts, and brown striped ties. Malachi Rogers sported a gray 3 piece suit, powder blue shirt, and solid tie. Wanda, Scott and Sam’s kids also looked razor sharp, in pastel dress shirts, dark pants, and black patent leather shoes. 

Parents and kids gathered in the small conference room. The kids couldn’t sit still, they were hyped to get the show on the road.

“I must admit, this is the best dressed staff in all of New York.” Bucky beamed, “Jessica, you have the floor.”

“Thank you Mr. Barnes. Good morning. My name is Jessica Barnes but you can call me Jess. It’s time for our morning meeting. Follow me to the small room.” 

Their parents laughed quietly and smiled as they filed out of the room.  How much trouble could 3 and 4 year olds get into? Yikes!

Parents applauded as Jess led her friends to another conference room set-up with breakfast sandwiches, fruit, pastry and juice boxes.

Munching on a sausage and biscuit, Malachi announced, “Okay, folks. We have a lot of work to do. There’s a meeting with people who want something built.” 

One little lady asked, “Mr. Grant, who?”  

Malachi replied, “I dunno let’s make something up.”

One factor forgotten, in the midst of their excitement of the day, the cuteness of the kids, someone forgot what could happen if kids consume copious amounts of S.U.G.A.R.  

Jess, Malachi, Mason and Jason wandered away from the others and ended up in one of the copy rooms. Mason, with wide-eyed wonder, suggested making copies of their faces. How they turned the machine on is one of life’s biggest mysteries. They took turns copying faces, arms and legs. Jason, however, took it one step further. He sat on the machine and took a picture of his bottom. 

Next, a group of 3-year-olds snuck into a few offices with sticky hands, pressing on the keyboards. Yep, they made a mess. 

Not to be left out, Jessica and her gang visited the employee break room. The refrigerator and lower cabinets were raided. They devoured chips, Christmas candy, and cookies leftover from an office meeting. 

Smeared on the pristine white walls were tiny chocolate handprints, water and orange juice got spilled onto the floor, and a few kids ate too much. The room was an absolute MESS.

Mason and Jason tried to clean up the spilled juice throwing paper towels on the floor. Malachi retrieved a mop, attempting to clean up.

Instead, he slipped, face first, soiling his new suit. Jessica, completely flustered, plopped on the floor in tears.

Leave it to the Moms in the room to hear what wasn’t being said.  Natasha and Wanda suddenly looked at each other and sprinted out of the room towards the suddenly-silent children.  They knew that quiet kids equaled disaster and were nauseous at the thought of what they might find.  All the parents ran and converged on the breakroom, stopped cold by what they found.  As they surveyed the damage. Bucky murmured, “What the hell happened in here?”

While he shook his head, most of the parents pulled out their phones to capture the moment.

The state of the room was nothing compared to the tired, messy children who were in varying stages of sugar crashes. Bucky looked at Steve, “We’re going to have to give the cleaning company a major bonus after this weekend. They’re going to think we left a zoo loose in here!”

Understanding the need for parents, as well as kids to recuperate, Steve suggested everyone take an extended weekend. Everyone accepted the gracious offer.  

“Kids Takeover the Firm Day” was a complete success. Jessica Barnes’ reign as CEO had come to an end. Sleeping soundly on her daddy’s black leather office sofa, Jess was visibly exhausted. Kissing her chubby cheek, Bucky moved a strand of hair from her forehead. In that moment, he felt Lillian’s presence. Wiping a wayward tear from his face, Bucky knew his wife would live on through Jessica Marie Barnes, Junior CEO.

Tagging: @stevieang @loricameback @mrsgoodnight @suz-123 @pegasusdragontiger

[iwillgiveyoumyhappiness]

이승협, Lee Seunghyub

anonymous asked:

hello sweetheart! can i request a prompt from prompt list#2, 22 and 13 with Seunghyub from N.Flying if that possible of course?

Group: N.Flying (엔플라잉)

Member: Seunghyub

Prompt: “Have you lost your damn mind?”, “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice”, “Kiss me”.

.

.

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The small restaurant you worked at wasn’t the most popular place in the world, and that was true enough. But a person who had spent any amount of time there knew that it was a special place, filled with scented candles, enchanting wall-art, addictive appetizers and pretty fantastic fresh-brewed coffee.

It was a place where artists came and drew on the walls as they pleased, leaving pieces of their passion behind on the pale surfaces. It was a place where students came to study in peace and laugh over good food. 

It was a place where businessmen came to wind down after a tiring day, and it was a place where the staff was more like family than anything else. It was a place where you worked—not because it was necessary—but because you genuinely liked it.    

That’s why it was always such a shame when people disrupted that calming environment. 

There were twelve regulars at that restaurant that you worked at. 

The three trainees from JYP that always came for breakfast and lunch. You didn’t know what they usually did for dinner, but you hoped that they ate well. They were nice boys with positive attitudes and a butt-load of talent. 

They’d given you a mini-concert before, just for practice. 

The woman who’d been going through a messy divorce, but stayed unbelievably strong for her kids. She talked about them so fondly, so you knew she would make it through all right. 

The grandma and grandpa that had been coming there every Tuesday since they got engaged there over forty years ago. Although that’d been before your time, they told you the story in such detail, it felt like you had seen it for yourself.

The stock manager with a sharp tongue, but kind eyes. He knew how to complain about the serving portions, but he also knew how to tip very well and always ask how your day had been.

The childhood friends that had moved from Incheon to study in Seoul. You just knew that they would end up together one day. It was the way that they looked at each other, filled with tenderness, distant adoration and a certain shy hesitance.  

The brother and sister that were trying to reconnect after being separated for a long time. They were still a little awkward with each other, but they were getting better every day. They’d even found a common interest in musical theater. 

And finally, the aptly named: Question Mark Man. 

You didn’t know much about him, but he’d always been interesting to you. His schedule was somewhat erratic, but he made sure to come in at least once a week. He always kept a low profile, had never told you his name, never made a big fuss about anything and always sketched on the wall in the far-back corner.

He’d been coming for about three months now.

He was tall, handsome, charming and a complete mystery. You didn’t even know what he’d been working on so diligently for the past three months. It looked like a person, but it was hard to tell who it was. He added a new piece every time that he came. 

The first day he came, he’d drawn a very rough outline. 

The second day, he added more detail to the body. 

The third day, someone had drawn over part of the arm, so he had shyly asked you to reserve that spot for him and only him. You’d accepted. 

The days went on, and the drawing only got more and more detailed. All he did now was hesitate to finish the face. He had started multiple times, but he’d always end up erasing it and starting again, insisting it was never quite right. 

“It has to be perfect,” he’d said one day.

You had chuckled at him. “Must be a pretty special drawing then, sir.” 

You’d studied him for quite some time now. Everything down to his bright eyes, skilled, lovely hands and heart-stealing smile. 

“You’re obsessed,” your co-worker had once told you. 

You had politely told her to go screw herself. “He just makes me curious,” you argued. “If I got to know him, he probably wouldn’t be my type.”

But today, there he was again, sitting in the far corner, drinking a cup of hot coffee. As always, he slaved over that drawing. 

“It looks like he’s actually making progress today,” you mentioned to your co-worker. 

She playfully smacked your arm. “Stop staring! You look like a psychopath.” 

“Wow,” you scoffed, though a smile played on your lips. “Rude.” 

She shrugged. “You know me.”

“Unfortunately,” you joked. You both laughed before parting ways. You focused yourself on the mundane task of rearranging the menus, trying your hardest to keep your attention off of the Question Mark Man. You didn’t want your friend’s prediction to come true. 

‘Suspected stalker’ certainly wouldn’t look very good on any future resumes. 

Your ears perked up hearing the familiar jingle of the rusty old bell that hung over the door. You looked up at the man that’d just entered. After being at this for a while, you had gotten to be a pretty decent judge of character, just based off of first impressions.

This guys didn’t give off a very good one. 

He was well-built and he wore ripped jeans, a shirt with slightly too deep of a V-neck, one-too-many earrings in one ear and a worn, leather jacket. His hair was brushed cleanly (rather nerdy-looking, compared to the rest of him) and you could see a book-bag hanging loosely off his shoulder, almost like he was trying too hard to be cool. 

First impressions could be totally wrong, and he still had the eyes of a kid, but something felt off about him. Not usually the type to come into this place. 

A highschool student playing hooky, perhaps? 

You shook it off, giving him a polite bow. “Good afternoon! Feel free to sit anywhere you like and I’ll be with you in a minute.” You recited the spiel perfectly, a pleasant smile on your face. 

The man—or more so, boy—gave you a once-over. “Will do,” he replied a smirk playing on his lips. 

You groaned internally. “Oh, great,” you grumbled under your breath. “This is gonna be fun.” You grabbed a menu, setting aside your uneasy thoughts.

The customer’s comfort always comes first. It was basically a law in the business of serving. 

“Hi,” you said, trying to sound as naturally friendly as possible. “Anything I can get you?” 

The boy propped his chin up against his palm. “Yeah, there is actually,” he answered smoothly. He gestured behind him. “You see those guys outside, waiting by the door?”

You glanced to the front window. Sure enough, there were four of five boys, similarly dressed, peering in through the window, seemingly making playful jabs at each other. “Yeah,” you said. “And what about them?” 

“Well, those are my friends,” he said, “and they dared me to come in here and kiss you.” 

You almost laughed. “I’m sorry—what? Could you repeat that?” 

“They dared me to kiss you,” he chuckled, giving a charming smile. “Crazy, right?” 

You nodded exaggeratedly. “Yeah, actually, it’s pretty crazy. Borderline disgusting.” 

His smile dropped a little. “That’s a little harsh.” He shook his head, trying to ignore the discreet insult. “So! Do you think you’ll help me? I actually have a lot of money riding on this. Not to mention, pride.” 

You gave a nervous chuckle. “Sorry, I guess I’m just not in a very giving mood today. I don’t really feel like helping you save money. Or your pride, sir.”

He frowned. “What?”

You shrugged. “That’s just the way life goes, I guess. But! If you’d like, you can still order something and I’d be happy to get it for you—”

He stood up, grabbing your waist. “Oh, come on,” he said. “What do you have to lose?” The other boys could be seen hooting and hollering from outside. 

You pushed his hand away. You were done playing nice. “I’m sorry, sir, but you need to leave.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Listen here—” 

“She said it was time for you to go, I think.” 

You recognized that voice immediately. It was the same voice you’d been hearing once every week for the past three months, whenever he ordered his Americano and biscuit, or when you made pointless small-talk together.

You were so grateful for that voice. The voice of the Question Mark Man. 

You felt a warm hand wrap around your waist. You tried to jump away, but he held it firmly. Not in a threatening way, but protective. 

“You asked what she has to lose,” the familiar stranger began, “and I have an answer.” He flashed that signature smile. “Her boyfriend’s temper.” 

Your jaw dropped, as well as the boy’s. This was the kind of scenario you’d only seen in dramas, and now it was happening in real life. You weren’t quite sure if it was surreal, or insane. 

He leaned in close to your ear. “Kiss me,” he whispered.

Your eyes widened. “Are you out of your damn mind?” you hissed back in a hushed tone. “We don’t even know each other! Besides, he wouldn’t even buy that—”

He cut you off by placing a chaste kiss on your cheek, never once breaking eye-contact with the boy. 

Despite his brutish outward appearance, the boy flushed a bright red, slowly backing away towards the door. “I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered before running out. 

The mystery man chuckled, still so close to you that you could feel the vibrations. “I think he bought it okay,” he said, slipping his arms away from your waist. “Sorry I kinda had to man-handle you back there.” 

You were still dazed and confused, your eyebrows furrowed. “It’s... fine,” you finally settled on. “It’s fine. Why did you help me, though? You didn’t have to do that.” 

For a moment, he looked a little shy, shuffling his feet. “Well... I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” 

Now it was your turn to be embarrassed. Your cheeks lit up immediately. “Oh my gosh,” you stuttered. “I’m so sorry about that. I swear I’m not—”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he interrupted with a small grin, “but I guess you haven’t seen the way I look at you.” 

You were left confused again. “Excuse me?” He gestured to the far back corner. Your eyes followed where his finger pointed, eyes widening in wonder.

He’d finished it. The three-month-awaited art piece was finally done. 

And it was you. 

At first, you wouldn’t believe it. That was far too pretty to be you, wasn’t it? The hair was too nice, the smile was too princess-like, the eyes were too emotional. That couldn’t be you...

Yet it was. 

You slowly looked back at him, flattered and shocked all at once. “Well, okay then,” you laughed. “To whom do I thank for the amazing likeness?” 

He gave a giddy smile. “Seunghyub,” he said. “Lee Seunghyub.”

.

.

.

N.Flying is one of the most fun and extra groups I’ve ever had the pleasure of stanning, so writing our multi-talented leader in this type of setting was very different for me. Different, but fun. We all want a potato in shining armor, don’t we?

Hey, Anon! Thanks for the request! I had so much fun with it and I hope you love it a lot. Feel free to stop by anytime! 

[skrivarmelodi]

Candles - Gladnisweek Day 3

@gladnis2018​

Day 3: Electricity

Rating: G

Words: 1700~

Summary: Ignis and Gladio didn't have much time for each other and end up fighting over stupid things. But a power failure might be exactly what they need to reconnect.

Also on AO3

“You're behaving like a child, Gladiolus,” was what Ignis said to his husband when they were sitting on their bed. He closed the book he had been reading, no longer in the mood because of the same stupid argument they had been having for days now.

“Me? A child?” Gladio huffed a laugh, looking pissed since Ignis called him by his full name - which he only ever did when he was either worried or upset.

This time he was upset and so tired.

“She's my sister and her new boyfriend is an asshole. She deserves better than this.”

“You don't even know him, you… No, you know what? I'm done talking about that. She's a grown up and can decide for herself. Remember how you lectured me to not spoil Noctis? You're going against your own advice.”

Gladio lifted his head from his pillow and looked at Ignis as if he had grown a second head.

“You did spoil the King. And Iris is not a royal. She's my sister and I'm allowed to speak up if someone or something isn't good for her. You can't compare the two because it's different.”

Ignis glared at his husband and said a sharp ‘fine’ before he turned around and tried to sleep.

The next day he was still hurt and upset about Gladio's words and so was Gladio about what Ignis said. But the anger didn't come from their argument alone.

The past weeks had been hard for them because Noctis, as the King, had a lot of meetings to attend as did his Shield and Advisor, sometimes with Noctis, sometimes without, but never together.

Even though they lived together they only ever saw each other exhausted in bed and rarely ate dinner together. For a married couple, still in love and loving each other more and more, that obviously added to the stress they went through.

The next day was their first day off but instead of spending it together Gladio left their home to meet with his sister - probably giving her his opinion about her new boyfriend - and Ignis started to cook in order to clear his mind.

No, he definitely didn't imagine their day off them separated or fighting and he didn't want that to happen. Usually they solved their fights by talking but he felt like they had already said enough and any other word would cause more pain and more fights.

So he baked, shared the pastry with all the people inside the Citadel, and then took a long walk.

When he returned, the sun was already setting and Gladio was also home. Their eyes met after Ignis walked through the living room, a simple ‘hey’ and ‘hello’ were said before Gladio returned to read the book he was holding and Ignis started to bake again.

This was ridiculous, he knew, and Gladio certainly knew as well, but he still couldn't find the words nor the strength to make things right.

He let his emotions out on the dough and whipped the cream so forcefully that even Gladio could hear it, even though he was watching TV now. If words failed him, Ignis had decided to bake Gladio's favorite cake, biscuit, filled with strawberries and whipped sweet cream.

He put the cream into the fridge and the dough into the heated oven, keeping his mind busy by cutting the strawberries. He was almost done when suddenly all the lights turned off and the whole apartment became dark.

Ignis heard Gladio making a questioning noise and before he got hurt he placed the knife down and reached into his pockets to get his phone. His husband came up with the same idea as he could see the flashlight from his phone coming closer to the kitchen. Ignis did the same and let the light shine towards Gladio so he could find him.

“Are you alright?” Gladio asked as his light shone on Ignis so he was able to see for himself if Ignis was indeed unharmed.

“Yes,” Ignis confirmed and looked at his oven. “I suppose it's a power failure.”

“Seems like it,” Gladio agreed followed by silence.

God, this was ridiculous and awful, Ignis thought again now that he had nothing to occupy his mind with. His eyes wandered back to the oven, realizing that his cake would be ruined if the power didn't return right away and he doubted it would get fixed fast.

“Prompto texted. He said we won't get the electricity back until tomorrow,” Gladio shared after his phone vibrated with a new message.

“Great,” Ignis commented and set his phone down on the counter to take care of the fridge and refrigerator since the ice would melt during the night and he didn't need some sort of water damaged added to the list of bad things that were happening.

Gladio returned to the living room taking care of something else and Ignis wasn't even upset about that. He could take care of the kitchen himself but what then? What was he supposed to do after that? He wasn't in the mood to go somewhere but he also didn't want to spend another night with Gladio right next to him and yet somehow unreachable.

Perhaps it were the Gods sending him a sign that they should talk now before things become more complicated.

Ignis sighed once more and decided to exactly do that. After all, he loved Gladio and he married him because of the love and happiness they gave each other. It wasn't their first fight and it wouldn't be their last, and they had overcomed so many things, worse things together, so this was nothing. Just another thing added to a couple of stress filled weeks.

He left the kitchen, holding the light of his phone so that he saw where he was walking.

His eyes, however, found a new source of light that was no cold flashlight. On the table of their living room were several candles lit that gave the room enough light to not stumble against the furniture. Somewhere in the depths of his soul, Ignis could feel a familiar warm feeling growing more and more. His heart started to beat a bit faster and his eyes wandered from the warm source of light to the familiar shape that belonged to his husband who was setting two more candles down on the table. Then Ignis noticed that it wasn't just the table, there were candles everywhere.

“We have a lot of candles, don't you think?” Gladio said, a tired smile on his lips.

Ignis nodded, surprised himself, but then he remembered why they had so many candles in the first place.

“Because you like romance and we've done this a lot, sitting by the candlelight, reading…” Ignis spoke slowly, turned the light of his phone off and watched Gladio moving towards him and the closer he came, the faster his heart started to beat. “... Cuddling, talking. It feels like… a long time ago.”

He didn't refuse Gladio when his hands reached out for Ignis’ hands and held them gently. Strong fingers and a skin rough from all the fights and yet gentle in their own way. Gods, he had missed this feeling so much, and even more so when Gladio rested his head on Ignis’ shoulder and spoke: “I'm sorry for my behavior.”

Ignis closed his eyes and lifted his arms to wrap them around Gladio's shoulders and hold him close, breathing him in, feeling his warmth, while a smile stretched over his lips.

“I'm sorry too. I guess the past weeks took their toll on us and we forgot each other.”

“We did,” Gladio said and leaned back, his hands holding Ignis by his hips to keep them close still but he kept enough distance so their eyes could meet. “All we cared about were the others, but not us. Which is toxic for two people who love each other as much as we do.”

Gladio looked so beautiful in the warm light of the fire coming from the candles.

Soft, warm, beautiful; Ignis could come up with a thousand words to describe his husband but he would never have enough air to say them all since Gladio managed to take his breath away even after all these years. Just like Ignis managed to do the same for Gladio.

“You do still love me, even though I can act like a child, right?” Gladio asked and Ignis wondered how a grown man, big and strong like Gladio, could still look cute with the pout he made.

“I married you, and I'd marry you again and again. So… I suppose I do,” Ignis chuckled when Gladio kissed his cheek. “Fools, that's what we are for fighting about nothing really.”

“But you're my fool and I love that fool more than anything,” Gladio whispered and leaned his forehead against Ignis’, breathing together with him, as their hearts started to beat in the same rhythm.

“I love you too, my hopeless romantic fool,” Ignis said back and sealed their words with a kiss, something that didn't happen for too long.

He hummed against Gladio's tongue when his hand rested on the back of Ignis’ head, and he felt Gladio shivering when he ran his hand down Gladio's chest. They knew each other like the back of their hands, all their weak spots and also their strongest. All their likes and dislikes and accepted and loved each part of the other.

There would never be another person able to know and love them like they did.

“I… wanted to bake a cake for you… as an apology.”

“I know. I saw it,” Gladio's voice was so deep and lulling Ignis into the best feeling he hadn't felt for a while. “But we can eat the strawberries and talk while cuddling on the couch. How does that sound?”

Ignis nodded, words failing him again because he was so happy.

“And after we're done talking and eating we can have reconciliation sex,” Gladio grinned from ear to ear and pressed Ignis closer to his body to kiss his face and Ignis couldn't help himself but agree and giggle about that.

[winterverses]

Walking Wounded - Chapter Forty-One

“Vital signs have not returned to normal, although they are still within normal ranges for stress, Captain,” Dr. Hayes reported. In the absence of McCoy, she was CMO, and Kirk had invited her to the bridge where she could keep him updated without delays. “Uhura is taking it well. Hardesty is not, although she’s within expectations. McCoy and Scotty are average.”

“Incoming transmission, Captain,” Hawkins said. “Coded burst from Lieutenant Uhura. They’ve been picked up by one of Loche’s ships. They’re being taken in tractor. Loche’s men knew Ms. Hardesty was aboard. Lieutenant Uhura says they expect to be at the base within the next twelve hours.”

“Acknowledged, Lieutenant,” Kirk said. “Communicate our status to the Farragut-A and add that we expect to move pending Scotty’s reports on the inside of the base, estimate three days given current intelligence.”

“Captain,” Dr. Hayes said. “Permission to speak with you privately.”

Kirk looked sharply at her, then nodded. “In the conference room, Hayes.” She nodded and left the bridge, and Kirk gave a few last-minute instructions to Chekov before handing over the conn.

As he walked into the conference room, he saw Hayes studying the readouts with a frown. “No, nothing’s changed,” she said. “They’re all right. But if they expect to be at the base that quickly, you had better get some rest.”

“Is this your advice as a physician?” Kirk asked dryly.

Hayes smirked at him. “No, Captain. If I want to give you official medical advice, I won’t bother doing it in private. But you’ve been awake since yesterday, and if anything were going to happen it would have happened now or it'll happen when they arrive. We should both rest up for a few hours, let the others spell us off, and then we’ll be fresh for it when they get to the base.”

Kirk watched her, but could detect nothing beyond concern. And he had to admit she was right. “Good idea. Thanks, Claudia.”

“Does this mean I can call you Jim?” she asked, and for a moment he saw that her nerves were about as frayed as his beneath her cool, beautiful facade. He nodded. “Do you want some company, Jim? I think I’d rather not worry myself to death alone right now.”

Kirk eyed her skeptically; he hadn’t noticed her attraction to him, and he wondered if he would notice it if she meant to act on it. He had to admit he wasn’t sure how he would handle it if she did. Anne had encouraged him not to restrain himself, but that was probably a can of worms best left unopened. Especially at the moment. Kirk sighed. “Sure. But I’m warning you, I’m not going to be very good company.”

Claudia shook her head. “Me neither. Dinner, drinks, and off to sleep. And I promise I won’t talk about Leonard too much if you don’t talk about Anne too much.”

An unwilling smile crossed Kirk’s lips. “We’ll work that one out.” He flipped open his communicator. “Mr. Chekov. You will remain at the conn until relieved; Dr. Hayes and I are going to get some rest while we can.” Chekov acknowledged.

Claudia was already contacting the med bay, assigning someone else to watch over the away team’s vitals. As they left the conference room, she flipped her communicator shut, and then paused with it still in her hand. “Should we contact Spock?”

Kirk shook his head. “He’ll be asleep. If he wasn’t, he’d be at his post already. I’d have to stun him to get him away.” His mouth twisted. “We’ll get him if something happens. We don’t all have to be worrying at once.”

“That’s fair.” She tucked her communicator away.

“You haven’t cleared those vitals,” Kirk said, glancing at the padd she still carried.

“Did you really want me to?” Claudia asked skeptically. When he didn’t answer, she said, “I didn't think so.”

Kirk half-laughed at himself, sounding bitter to his own ears. “Yeah, well, as long as I’m not watching them myself I’ll probably be fine.”

Without thinking about it, he soon found himself at his quarters, gesturing for Claudia to follow him in. “What do you even do in situations like this?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. “I’m not cut out for sitting and waiting. I always go with the away teams.” Yanking off the gold overtunic, he tossed it on one of the couches and kicked off his boots. As he walked barefooted to one of the wall cabinets that he knew still had a bottle or two of something in it, he heard Claudia moving behind him.

When he turned, he saw that she was punching an order into the food synthesizer. “Any requests?” she asked.

“God, I don’t know. Something sugary as shit. Pie. Cookies.” He snorted. “Anne calls them biscuits. I don’t even think she’s being pretentious. The way she talks sometimes… hell, I don't even know where she’s from.”

Claudia tapped a few keys on the padd. “That’s odd. South Africa, originally. You would think she’d have mentioned it. She must have had some voice training to change her accent. American accents do tend to be more common off-planet.”

That... couldn't be right. “I know I’ve heard French when she was stressed. For someone who’s not very interesting, she’s sure got a lot of mysterious shit going on,” Kirk said, popping the cap on one of the bottles and pouring some into a glass. It was… bourbon? Maybe?

“And I've heard that before. What’s that ‘interesting’ business?” Claudia asked, grabbing the food from the synthesizer. He saw a massive pile of chocolate chip cookies on one plate, and a stack of sandwiches stuffed with fried things and cheese on the other.

“...thank god. I don’t think I could have handled it if you’d gotten us salad,” Kirk said. Collapsing onto the couch, he set the bottle and the glasses down on the table. Claudia stepped around and put down the plates, grabbing a sandwich and her unidentified booze. It felt so weird to sit on the couch with someone and not immediately have them move in close. He'd gotten so used to Anne being there. “The not-interesting thing, that’s just something she said in the first few days when I asked her about herself.”

Claudia shook her head, but more like she recognized it immediately than not. “I can’t explain that in any detail without breaking confidentiality. There are some personality issues there.”

“I’m pretty sure you don’t need to explain it,” Kirk said, grabbing a cookie and dunking it in his booze. “Anyway, we weren’t going to talk about her or about McCoy. How did you meet him, anyway?”

Sighing, Claudia said, “He cheated on his wife with me when we were in med school.”

“What?” Kirk dropped his cookie and had to fish it out of his bourbon. “I mean, uh… something less surprised. Seriously?”

She just shrugged. “We were young, okay? And he’d just gotten married and it was already going badly and… It’s all ancient history. We’re friends. Well, after we reconnected in Starfleet, anyway.” She laughed softly. “Then I got chased away by his third wife for a couple years. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since before your five year mission started.”

“Huh.” Kirk couldn’t help but stare. “I’m not sure if I’m more impressed that he never said anything, or that he didn’t marry you, or… you know, I give up. It’s just all impressive.” He paused, taking a bite of his booze-soaked cookie, and then talking around it. “Anne figured it out, I think. She said something about the way you looked at him.”

To his surprise, Claudia looked concerned, a little guilty. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, no! I didn’t even notice. Well, I did after she told me what to look for.” Claudia frowned, and he hurried to add, “I mean I made her tell me.” Kirk saw her suspicion building, and sighed. “Fine, all right, Anne said something about you being a good rebound for me after she was gone unless Bones got there first, and I grilled her because I didn’t believe her because you weren’t obvious, okay?”

Claudia just raised her eyebrows, her lips pressing together briefly. “Well at least I know I wasn’t making a fool of myself. What an awful thing to have your Captain find out.” She shook her head philosophically. “It’s nothing personal. You’re attractive, but I need to have a professional relationship with you. That’s far more important to me than attraction.”

“Damn, shot down before I could even try,” Kirk said drolly. “As long as you don’t marry Bones, because I don’t want to have to get rid of one of you when you break up.”

Knocking back some of her booze, Claudia coughed slightly and shook her head. “I wouldn’t marry him. He’s got too many ex-wives. Makes me nervous.” She glanced sidelong at Kirk. “Besides, I’m not sure I have a position here once we get back to Yorktown.”

“You’re fine here,” Kirk said. This was settled already, had been since her first day.

“Yeah, but… it depends on Anne. If things don’t work out well enough, I’ll stay on at Yorktown. Command will have me, so it’s not like my career would suffer too much.” At Kirk’s skeptical look, she added, “Not that I want to leave. I'd much rather stay with the ship. But… I can’t just leave her if she needs me.”

“All you ever do is argue,” Kirk said, bemused. He wasn't sure he'd seen them on good terms… well, ever.

Claudia smiled, a quick flash of affectionate humor not directed at him. “Do you know anyone else she’s comfortable enough to argue with?”

Kirk had to concede the point. Something Claudia had said when they’d had that first misinterpretation jumped back out at him. “I thought personal feelings were a bad idea, Doctor?”

She acknowledged his point with a nod. “They are. Told you I’d been there.”

“Over and over, I bet,” Kirk said, shaking his head. A bit of honesty escaped from him before he could stop it. “I feel kind of… weird. To think you could change your entire life for a patient, and yet I can’t do it for someone I… I don't know. I don't even know what I'm trying to say.” He didn't want to look up. If he had to see what was on Claudia’s face, he might have answers… and at least if it was all just questions, there was no finality yet.

If she knew what was going through his head, she didn't indulge it for one second. “There are different ways of loving people, Jim. Anne loves you for what you are, not what she wishes you were or what would make her happiest. If I had to be a psychologist for either of you right now, I’d be yelling about how terrible that is under these circumstances, but… off the record, as a friend, so long as you both make it through, I think you’re very lucky.” Claudia sipped her drink again. “But I’m not going to say that ever again, because it’s a huge liability and in the end I don’t think it’s going to do anyone any good.”

Well, he'd practically been asking for all that. “You’re probably right. I’m not real great at the long view, though.” Kirk knocked back his bourbon and finished his cookie, grabbing a sandwich, thinking about the food to avoid thinking too hard about Claudia’s wording choices. “There’s never been a reason to think beyond the next mission.” He sighed, devoured half the sandwich in a few bites, and then added, “I don’t know what to do. Hell, I called my mother.”

Claudia blinked, her large brown eyes shocked. “That’s… you're not...”

Kirk gave her a look. Whatever she was thinking,she could just put it right out of her head. “My mom’s the only person I know that I could really ask about having a loved one die on a mission.” As Claudia looked blankly at him, he prompted, “My father. When I was born. George Kirk?”

Recognition finally sparked in her eyes. “Shit. I knew that about you. I did, really, I just… I didn’t connect it. You don’t act like it.”

Mollified, Kirk said, “Good. Anyway, I had to ask my mom what she would do in my position, what she would have done if she’d known Dad might not come back.” He smirked unhappily. “The point is, she told me not to worry about losing Anne later on, just to spend the time well.”

“Am I being your psychologist?” Claudia asked, her voice neutral.

“No. You’re being a friend. What would you do?” He looked over at her and saw that her tawny skin had gone white. There was a spatter of freckles across her nose and cheeks that didn't show up unless she paled. “Right. Bones. Put you and him in my situation with Anne.”

He finished the rest of his sandwich and started another while Claudia thought. “I can’t say I would do anything differently,” she finally said, slowly. “But that’s not what you’re asking, is it? You want to know about the future. What happens if she comes back.”

“When,” Kirk corrected. “When I get her back.”

“When you get her back,” Claudia repeated, then fell silent again. She grabbed a handful of cookies, studying them. “Listen, I don’t know what to tell you. Leonard and I haven’t been together in years. I’m not saying I would, but there’s a chance of it. With Anne… you just don’t know. If you could arrange with her-- if she could follow you, or meet you… if she could stay on...”

“But it’s up to her,” Kirk said, pouring himself some more bourbon.

“And you,” Claudia said gently. “I meant it when I said she loves you. When you get her back, she’ll chase you far enough to get her memories back, for sure. Maybe she’ll chase you past that.” Claudia sighed. “You are pretty well worked into her mind.”

Flicking a crumb off his pants, Kirk tried very hard not to think about what it meant if he was… if Anne was… whatever. This whole situation was crazy. “I suppose that’s encouraging.”

“It should be. You’ve got it set up as best as you can to protect her mind and to get her back safely. I think she’ll be okay. Beyond that, you're going to have to find out yourself.” Glancing around, Claudia sighed, and slumped. “That bourbon is hitting me hard. Can I stay here tonight?”

Giving her a skeptical glance, Kirk said, “Yeah. I’ll take the couch. I’ve crashed on it enough times.”

Claudia’s eyes widened. “No, I’m not kicking you out of bed.” She glanced away, and Kirk suddenly felt that she might not be strictly truthful. “I’m not a fan of Anne’s perfume. I’ll take the couch, if you can lend me something to cover up with.”

Kirk gave her a raised eyebrow. “I can probably scare something up. Nothing of Anne’s will fit you, though.”

Lips quirking, Claudia shook her head. “Of course not, she's half my size. But I’ll sleep in my uniform, I just need a blanket or something.”

Kirk shook his head and stood. He was getting tired too. “Let me check around.” A thorough rummage through his various storage compartments later, he’d found an old pair of shorts and a shirt that one girlfriend or other had left behind by accident, as well as a blanket to cover up with. He gestured toward the wall opposite his room. “There’s a washroom over there. I’ve got my own in the bedroom, so take as long as you need.”

“I’m all right for now. I’ll change after you go to bed.” Yawning behind her hand, Claudia looked up at him. “I’ll set up an alarm so that if their vitals change state, it’ll wake me.”

Kirk felt his shoulders sink in relief. He tossed the blanket and the clothes on the end of the couch. “I appreciate it, Claudia. Really.” Grabbing the bottle of bourbon, he poured himself another generous glass of it and then set it on the table. “I’ll clean up in the morning. Get some rest.”

“You too, Jim,” she said, already at her padd.

He’d finished the glass by the time he made it to the shower in his bedroom, and once he’d come out, he was feeling warm and drowsy. Sliding naked into bed, he settled into the scent of Anne’s perfumed skin, and wished it was still natural for the other side of the bed to feel cold.

[hermholland]

I did a little creative writing tonight. I’m not really sure if it’s much of anything, but it helped me get something out of my head. I’ve done no drafts, spell-checking, or reworking. It is exactly as it first came out.

The sun was just rising when I got out of bed. Through the side of my curtains I could see that harsh type of morning light that looks unpleasant from whatever side of sleep you see it. My cheeks reported the cold that would make me reluctant to get out from under my quilt for the next 10 or so minutes, conceding only an arm with which to retrieve the clothes I had set out for the day. I got dressed from the comfort and warmth of my bed, then braved the cold to sit up. I had yet to open my eyes for more than a second or two at a time, and I blindly felt out my glasses on the bedside table, knocking a couple of pens onto the floor as I did so. My eyelids protested their activity immediately. I found my walking boots, slipped them on, and closed my eyes once again while tying the laces. After gathering my necessary accoutrements, I stepped in to the bathroom and splashed icy cold water over my face. I then took my glasses off, dried them off, and splashed my face for a second time (feeling like an idiot).

The house itself was asleep apart from myself, so I was careful to be as quiet as possible. This wasn't enough to keep me undetected by my dog, whose footsteps I heard only a minute or so after I had gotten down stairs. As ever when she had been sleeping, Jess approached me with an arched back, wagging with her whole rear half, with lidded eyes and lowered ears. I knelt down to greet her, and she pushed her head into my stomach, moving to sit against me as I petted her and told her she was a good girl in a whispered voice. She was warm to the touch, which meant she had been asleep under someones quilt before coming to see me. I thought how lovely it would be to get back in to bed, especially because Jess would probably follow me and make the bed especially cosy. But no; I had made plans, and as tireed as I was, I wanted to see them through. It had been a while since I had taken a trip somewhere simply for the sake of doing it, and I had been looking forward to it since making the decision. No craving for sleep was getting in the way of my proactive intentions. I gave Jess a couple of dog biscuits, after which she had a drink and then stayed by my side while I sorted myself to go out. Padded coat, lock chain, gloves, helmet, and keys.

I went out the back door and sat on my motorbike. I could feel the chill in the air through all my layers and padding immediately. I slipped my gloves on, and scooted backwards through the garage door as I had done more than a hundred times before. The sunlight had changed from the harsh and cold blueish gray to a warmer, but sleepy yellowish gold. With barely a cloud in the sky, it looked to be a beautiful day. I was beginning not to notice the cold already, and my excitement towards my plans returned. In a final attempt to preserve the sleep of the rest of my household, I walked my bike to the end of the driveway before starting the engine (which was quiet anyway). It spluttered in to life, and sounded as sleepy as I felt while it struggled to stay running in its cold state. I pulled off, and turned directly in to the sun (thank goodness for tinted goggles).

The ride out was quiet, as most people were still likely to be in bed, and I enjoyed having the freedom of the roads. The ride up to the forest was nice, and even the cold didn't bother me much. In fact; the chilled air helped clear my head of sleepiness somewhat.

I hadn't taken this trip for a long time, so I was unsure as to where I could park the bike. I passed one place to park and had to turn around to find it again. I locked my helmet under the seat, and chained up the back wheel, and set off down what looked like a path in to the forest. In the past I'd loved woodland areas, and the sight of them or idea of walking in them always filled me with a sense of wonder and happiness. Over time, however, that had faded somewhat, and the sudden overwhelming desire to revisit was wholly unexpected. It was a welcome surprise, though; for several years I'd just been carrying on with things without really engaging in any of the things I used to love, and it had occurred to me that my life had become pretty stale. I was more than happy when I realised that I was reconnecting with some of the things that used to make me happy.

The path itself was little more than a worn away groove in the mud along a route that people used as a shortcut across the area. Once I reached the point where the path rejoined the road I decided to take a detour into the forest-proper. I'd paid little-to-no attention while I followed the path, running on autopilot as if I were trying to get somewhere rather than just enjoying the experience. Once I turned off I began to notice the environment a little more. I realised that, from where I stood, I could no longer see the sun. The warm yellow glow had developed in to quite a nice sunny day, but from inside the forest all the colour seemed to have drained away. Even the trees themselves were a dark grey, looking like tall, grotesque buildings in a city at night. The ground was a fetid swamp of blackened grit that shifted underfoot like cardboard over a puddle. The air was heavy and moist, and it clung to the back of my throat and left a gamey metallic taste in my mouth. From beyond the scratching of branches, and the occasional condescending chittering of birds, I could hear the distant drone of the occasional car which made the whole scenario feel more desolate. It would be okay, I thought; once I'd gotten a little deeper in to the forest, perhaps things would seem more pleasant. If that were in any way true, then I never got that deep in to the forest.

The late winter trees showed absolutely no signs of life. Even though I could hear birds and, to a lesser extent, squirrels, I never saw sight nor sign of any wildlife on my walk. I could picture them on high branches, looking down on me and mocking me with their grating calls. I'd look up, wondering if I might see them grouped above me, or maybe even just a nest, but there was nothing except the cold grey light of the sun crawling through jagged branches. I hadn't been paying attention to my footing, and suddenly I was falling. I had stepped on a mossy tree root, and slipped clean off my feet. I landed on a corner of the root with the side of my hip that sent a wave of pain in all directions, and an aftershock through my nerves down to my toes. I stayed where I had landed, sat on the soggy ground with the leg on my injured side stuck out in front, and the heels of my hands dug in on either side of me. I sighed; the taste was more earthy from down here, and it felt like the air was filled with microscopic spiders that crawled over my lips and tongue. I was done.

Tentatively, I stood up, trying to avoid placing too much weight on my now throbbing leg, and staying away from the mossy root. Fairly certain of the direction that I had come in, I retraced my steps through the changeless tangle. It took barely two minutes for doubt to set in. I've always had a pretty good sense of direction, and can discern through landmarks if I'm going at least vaguely the right way, but all of the trees looked pretty much the same, and I hadn't noticed any landmarks to navigate by. Whether or not I was going the right way, I felt that it was important not to keep changing my mind (so as not to retrace the same small patch of ground multiple times). This forest wasn't enormous, and I felt sure that if I stuck to one direction then it wouldn't take me all that long to reach the outside. Without the ability to navigate, my mind began to wander, until I found myself grumbling aloud to nothing. I berated myself on the stupidity of taking a trip like this purely because I'd liked doing so in the past. I told myself that all I remembered was clearly the novelty of the idea, and not the real-life application. That, after all this time I was hardly the same person I had been back when I enjoyed forest walks, and I clearly didn't suit the endeavour. And that just because I decided to do something, I shouldn't expect that something to adhere to my expectations. I was miserable, and filled with self-loathing. My frame of mind had descended so rapidly to a point where it seemed like everything had always been doomed to fail, and that I was wrong about my own emotions. Later on I would realise that most of what I had been griping about was wrong, and that my only real mistake was to not take the full picture in to consideration: I had remembered walks in forests from Summer and early Autumn, and a Winter forest is an entirely different thing. But at that moment I was cold, damp, in pain, and couldn't get the feeling of wet disintegrated bark off my hands, so everything seemed awful.

When I reached the edge of the forest I saw that I had come out only a short while down the road from where I had parked (from the looks of it, I'd made my U-turn not that far away). The sun appeared all the more beautiful from the side of the road, now that the filter of the forest could be ignored, but I was in no mood to appreciate it. After the softened soil of the forest, the tarmac of the road felt too hard, and each step sent unpleasant pangs through my hip and ankles. The walk back to my bike couldn't have been more than 5 minutes long, but it felt like an agonising eternity of pain and misery.

Once I reached my bike, I all but tore the chain off of my back wheel, almost whipping myself with it as it came free. I struggled to get my helmet from under my seat because my bad mood meant that I was doing everything in sharp, angry gestures. I sat on my seat, and realised that my backside was wet from my fall, and I could feel bits of bark underneath me. I half-heartedly brushed them away (with the action more a show of frustration than anything useful). The engine rumbles to life, and I stall it straight away. Anger bubbles in my chest, but I swallow it and try again. The second time I succeed. I pull off without checking the road for other vehicles, and when I realise this I tell myself it'd serve me right if I got hit for being such an idiot.

On the ride home, the cold bites in to my ankles, my knuckles, and my thighs, as well as tearing at my cheeks, nose and throat.

Although I believe it at the time, I lie to myself: I'll never try that again.

[kindaklutzy]

2019 Rewind

2019... ah.. what a year it was. I hit all-time low at one point of time in the year but thankfully it was road to recovery towards the end.

I started off the year rough - someone made me feel like I wasn’t enough. The same person made me feel like I did my life entirely wrong, that I was an absolute loser. I started to reevaluate everything in my life. I no longer knew if anything I did was right at all, although I always thought it was because I always followed my heart. He made me feel so small and worthless- like nothing I did at all was useful. I was just tired and hopeless. I could have sworn I was ready to drop everything in my life if not for the people who were suppressing my dark thoughts. I cried, and I cried, and I cried. I was in such a dark place.

Mid year came. I left the hell hole I was in but I still couldn’t pick myself up. I was sad and mad, but mostly at myself. I went to Japan with a group of old friends whom I’ve always held so close to my heart, but didn’t have time for as we aged. We grew apart because of our busy schedules. Through the trip, we got a lot closer and for the rest of the year, we became tighter than we’ve ever been. Shortly, I also went to Taiwan with my boyfriend. It was an absolutely wonderful trip. I felt everything lifted off my chest and I genuinely enjoyed his company. Throughout the trip, there were little distractions from the real world. Our attention was directed onto each other and the beautiful places we visited and fun things we did. It was a healing trip. The two trips were very much needed. At least for those times, I could rest and genuinely enjoy myself.

3/4 into the year, I found my uni timetable more flexible than before. I could afford to spend a little bit more time with my friends and a lot more time for myself. But I was, once again, consumed by the darkness. I felt hollow, like I have nothing left to offer the world. The worthless and hopeless feelings I had at the beginning of the year came back to haunt me especially with all the spare time I had on hand. I felt like I wasn’t doing enough. I felt incompetent. His words still rang in my ears. I shudder at the thought of what I had gone through, and I would have a meltdown when I remember just how exhausted I was physically and mentally. Because of all these going on in my head, I couldn’t sleep or eat well. Some days I could go with only a packet of biscuit a day. And even though I had the luxury of sleeping early- most days I’d end up closing my eyes and actually falling asleep only at 5am and waking up shortly after.

Then at some point towards the last quarter of the year, I decided I had to change something. I started picking up a healthier lifestyle. I exercised. But I still couldn’t find my appetite. Sometimes I even intentionally skipped meals because - maybe if I was skinnier people may like me better. When did I start having these thoughts? I started to fall for a boy band that produced music that were absolutely healing. I travelled overseas to watch them- and that was the craziest thing I’ve ever done, not in the year, but in my life. I reconnected with someone I genuinely admired, and was introduced to people who started to heal me (unknowingly) and my scars from the beginning of the year. They are such lovely people. They reminded me that I was on the right track and that I was doing fine. They guided me and showered me with support. For the first time in the year, I felt like I was enough. Then Christmas came. The same person who made me feel absolutely shitty at the beginning of the year passed me a gift through my friend. This forced me to drop him a text to thank him for the present. And when I did that- I told myself it’s time to put the past down.

To the person who brought me so much suffering in 2019, he may have thought (and still think) that he was helping me become a better person. But a good leader doesn’t just drop negative feedback on you without guiding you along the way or correcting you midway. His choice of words were tactful, but the meaning behind his fluff got through to me, and got the better of me. Even now I still cry time to time when I’m reminded of incidents in the beginning of the year. I still cry when I talk about it. It’s almost like I am suffering from ptsd. But things are better now because I’ve met people who actually value me and guide me to be a better version of myself.

If you have read the entire writing and got through till this point- you’d realise my incoherence. My healing wasn’t a consistent build up process. At some point I’d be distracted by the joys in life but I’d fall back, then at some point I’d think I feel better but I’d still fall back. Right now I think I’m better but who knows- I might be crying again tmr. In 2020 - I’m still fighting against myself. So this year, I hope to be stronger, wiser and kinder. I hope that I can redirect my focus on people who truly matter and not let any random person walk into my life and bring me down. I hope that I can stop feeling miserable- because it makes people around me miserable too.

But in all seriousness, constructive criticism is good. But being a shit person then criticising someone else and pinning fault on them for something they did not do is not cool. So if you found the person who brought me misery relatable in any way- please- just be careful with your criticisms and always reflect on yourself while getting others to reflect on them.

Cheers to 2020- I hope you will all find yourselves and your path in life this year.

[laz-kay]

Left image: Dressed up, hair styled, makeup on point, glitter, earrings, good lighting, couple of filters, and a cheesy smile.

Right image: Pj’s on, no makeup, floofy hair, crap lighting, no filters, taken after a long-ass day at work, and was a one shot take. ———————————————————————

Social media is a place where people choose to share their more favourable moments with the rest of the world, and why wouldn’t they? I’m always sharing altered images of myself in cosplay and OOC, and I do that so I can look like a better person.

Filters make my cosplays look more professional, they make me feel more confident as a person, and they genuinely make me feel more accepted by the social media community. But, that sucks a little, doesn’t it? Why should we determine our self worth by how many “likes”, “shares”, “reblogs” etc that we get on our social media posts? I’d personally love to have a larger reach on my social media, yes, but I don’t wanna get there by lying to people about the person I truly am.

So, my name is Laura. I’m 21 years old. I’m a Hufflepuff. I’m demi-pansexual. I spend most of my days working at Build-a-Bear Workshop with other crazy and wonderful people. I would die for my friends and family. I adore cosplay, but I also love to spend my days off in my pj’s alongside a large cup of tea and a packet of digestive biscuits. I watch way to many kids tv shows. I admit that I enjoy having a TikTok account. I have anxiety, ptsd, derealsiation disorder, depression and insomnia. I’ve recently realised that I have a binge eating disorder and have admitted it to myself at long last. I love to write FanFictions, blogs, random stories etc. I’ve read the Harry Potter books more times than I can remember. I am the living embodiment of Mabel Pines. I sleep with eight teddies in my bed every night. My best friend is my doggo Sally, and I talk random shit to her every day cause she’s the best listener. I’ve danced at the same dance school since I was three years old. I have the toilet paper “the wrong way round”. I’d love to travel more but I spend most of my money on food, cosplay, and dressing up my Build-a-Bear. And finally, I am not ashamed of who I am.

Social media is great for so many reasons; you can keep in touch with loved ones, you can reconnect with people, and you can stalk your favourite celebrities! However, the pressure that people can sometimes feel from these sites isn’t healthy whatsoever. I’ve been anxious some days when my instagram images haven’t received as many likes as other people’s, and my mind always went to: “It’s because you’re bigger than other cosplayers”. “It’s because their costumes are better than yours”. “It’s because you’re not famous”. And “it’s because you’re not good enough”.

I adore social media, but it’s time to show the world the real you every now and again in order to remind others that’s it’s exceptionally cool to be yourself! Sure, go ahead and alter your images like I openly do, but it would be so awesome to see everyone’s true selves just once so that we know we’re not alone! If you’re comfortable doing so, reblog an image of your natural-self✌🏻

[amelngo]

It is the 31st of October. While other children around the world are getting ready for Halloween, twenty four Syrian street-based children will be going to Swings camp, a picnic, camping and activity park in El Metn, Mount Lebanon. At 08:30 in Beirut the sun is shining bright, there are no clouds in the sky. The weather is an agreeable 20 degrees. Eight staff from Amel Association International  and a country representative from French NGO Samusocial International (Amel’s partner) meet at the Haret Hreik centre to wait for the children, who have been picked up by the bus we will later use to get to El Metn. A while later excited children from the capital’s southern neighbourhoods fill the ground floor of the centre. Many of them live in Informal Tented Settlements (ITSs) on the outskirts of Beirut. Most of them do not go to school.

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What being a street-based child means

A street-based child is a child who is either living and sleeping on the streets, or who is exposed to the streets through working, begging, or garbage-searching to sell items. Deprived of a decent childhood and basic opportunities, street-based children are amongst the most vulnerable in Lebanon. They are exposed to exploitation, physical and psychological abuse, and sometimes even sexual abuse. Not only do they work in dangerous conditions – lifting heavy objects, or at risk of road and traffic accidents – but their life on the streets has scorching impacts on their physical health and mental well-being. Furthermore, working out on the streets vastly reduces children’s educational and schooling prospects and increases child marriage rates.  27% of Syrian teenagers in Lebanon between the ages of 14 and 19 are married, meaning more than one in every four Syrian girls in the country are in unions that are unlikely to let them go to school, and more likely to force them into early labour.

Arriving at the picnic and activity camp   

Arriving at the camping and activity park in El Metn, Mount Lebanon. ©sonia grieco/amel

The one hour bus ride to Swings is filled with singing and laughter.  To get away from the endless noise and the pollution in the capital is a treat, even if it is just for one day. When we arrive we see just how idyllic this place is. Tall trees stretch into a cloudless sky. The sun beats down but the temperature remains perfect. The air is clean and crisp. All that can be heard are the children’s chatter and teachers’ instructions for the activities. As the children clamber out of the bus they are  placed in two different groups according to their age. They are handed out red and blue caps that they will later get to keep.

The older group starts with the rodeo bull. Each child takes a turn, encouraged by their friends. Some of them manage to hold on to the bull. Others fall off onto the inflatable floor below in a matter of seconds, laughing. Leila* (11) is the first girl who challenges the bull, an example to other girls in the group who may have been slightly apprehensive at first but who are now motivated to try it for themselves.

On the other side of the camp the younger group is tree-climbing, guided by two dedicated Swings staff. The children find it tricky to begin with, after all tree-climbing is not an easy task, but as they learn how to navigate the moving steps, slings and ropes connecting the trees they begin to feel more comfortable. In the end it becomes many childrens’ most memorable activity.  Zeinab* (9), who is dressed in pink from head to toe says: “I love tree-climbing because I had never done it before and now I know how to!” At 11:30 it is time for a morning break. The delicious scent of warm za’atar manoushe fills the air and each child is given a bottle of water. Once they have finished wet wipes are handed out.

The activities that follow are equally thrilling. The small children are taken to do bungee jumping and they absolutely love it.  Sami* (7) jumps up and down while his friends cheer him on. When he finishes he grins. “I made the most jumps!” he says. Amira* (6) is very keen to try. One of Amel’s instructors says she has a strong personality, for she is brave and strong-willed and is not fearful. It comes across. She cheers in delight every time she drops back down to the ground. Later on we see her enjoying chasing a chicken around the camp.

Some children are guided to a lone 15m tree and are challenged to climb it. Rami* (6 and half) is the first one to attempt it. He makes his way up with relative ease, stopping at times to decide where to next place his feet. When he makes it to the top he smiles down at his cheering crowd. “It was very beautiful” he says, back on the ground. “This is my favourite activity”.

Meanwhile, the older group is taken to a neighbouring giant swing, dubbed ‘the mother of all swings’ by the camp itself. Grouped in pairs, the children quite literally fly through the air when the swing drops. Ali* (10) loves it. “My heart sunk in my chest!” he says. Hassan* (13) and Wissam* (14) are talking enthusiastically when they get off. When asked if they are enjoying themselves today they say they are very happy. “The swing has been the best part so far” they add.

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Amel’s Protection Mobile Unit

Today is a big day for the children. They are not used to being out in nature or interacting with other children in fun educational activities that have nothing to do with the daily struggle of being out on the streets. A full-day outing like today’s is an important component of Amel’s Protection Mobile Unit (PMU) project, implemented in partnership with Samusocial International and currently funded by the French Agency for Development. The latter responds to the needs of street-based children in 15 countries.

Amel’s Mobile Protection Unit. © george zahm/amel

The aim of the PMU project  is to reconnect children and by extent their families with basic services that include psycho-social support, health, education, food security and legal support, by following Samusocial International’s methodology of street intervention and social care. They are identified directly by the Protection Mobile Unit – one nurse, one social worker and one driver social assistant, –  who assess their individual needs before referring them or accompanying them to Amel’s centres (or other organisations if their needs cannot be catered for by Amel). Working with these children is extremely sensitive, given the many vulnerabilities they are exposed to. Often times social workers are met with understandable fear and distrust from the children themselves, or with resistance from parents. However, home visits and the distribution of small goods, like items of food, clothing or diapers allow the team to build a “link of trust” with the children and their families. Since the launch of the project in July 2017, 514 children have been identified.

A day to remember

As we wait for lunch, the children spend some time at the camp’s playground, covered in orange autumn leaves. The girls love the trampoline. They are counting how many times they can jump up and down in a row. They are breathless, laughing as they topple over each other. At 13:30 it is time for a well-deserved lunch at the picnic area. Today the children are getting  shish tawook (marinated chicken), French fries with ketchup and a choice of either apple, pineapple or orange juice.

We catch up with Zeinab* (9) before we head back to Beirut to ask her about today’s experience. She has borne a smile from ear to ear all day. She used to sell tissues in the streets two years ago, but thanks to Amel’s support she is now fully-enrolled in school. When asked what her daily routine now looks like she says: “I wake up in the morning, get ready, make my bed, help my mother with some house chores, do some homework, have breakfast with my dad when he comes back home from his night-shift job and then my mother takes me and my younger brother to school. I do not work anymore”. She really likes going to school. She is learning a lot and has many friends.

It is Halloween, and while the sun sets Amel staff hand out small pumpkin buckets. Inside there is a pumpkin mask, some biscuits and a Halloween-themed water bottle. The children are delighted with their gifts, a souvenir of today’s memorable experience. As we head to the bus, Hassan* (13) says that he really did not think the outing was going to be so much fun – it was much better than he expected. He has loved the activities and has made new friends. “I hope there are more days like this in the future” he adds, “far from the streets”.

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The scale of the street-children issue

Lebanon hosts close to 500,000 Syrian children, many of whom are street-based. A UNICEF report in 2015 found that there were 1,510 children across 18 districts in Lebanon who were living or working on the streets. 73% of them were Syrian, and two thirds were male. The first access to the labour market was happening between the ages of 7 and 14, and the average working day was close to 8.5 hours.  Things have not improved. A report by UN Lebanon in 2016 as part of ‘Lebanon’s Crisis Response Plan 2017-2020’ estimated that male child labour amongst Syrian refugee children had increased from 4% to 7%. Outdoor activities like today’s are crucial to give street-based children a chance to enjoy their childhood in a safe environment. For one day they have lived and played like children are supposed to, as they deserve.

*Names have been changed for anonymity purposes.  

Amel's street-based children enjoy a day in the mountains It is the 31st of October. While other children around the world are getting ready for Halloween, …

[vanperry101352-blog]

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