#and now shes running a country called dead people ville

[i-spilled-my-soup]

i just remembered how messed up the ovid telling of hades and persephone is . god

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Dead Man Walking (4/?)

Summary: Prime Ministers don’t normally wake up in morgues after they’ve been murdered, but that’s exactly what Robert Sutherland has just done. Right in front of Lacey’s nose. With limited resources and not knowing who to trust, Sutherland and Lacey must work together to get to the bottom of the attempted assassination.

Based loosely on this dream I had.

Rated: T, eventually E.

Note: This is meant to be ‘darkly humorous and amusing mystery’ rather than ‘gripping political thriller’…

[One] [Two] [Three] [AO3]

—

Dead Man Walking

Four

Lacey’s night just kept getting stranger. Having delivered the Prime Minister safely into the hands of his Chief of Staff, who, although at least three sheets to the wind and probably closer to four, did at least seem capable, she should have just left them to it.

She should have just got them out of the hospital, waved them cheerily away with a cry of ‘good luck, don’t nearly get assassinated again’ and gone home. It was almost two o’clock in the morning, for heaven’s sake, she had better places to be than skulking down alleyways beside the ambulance station. Like bed, for instance.

But no. Here she was, skulking down an alleyway with the Prime Minister, the Prime Minister’s drunk Chief of Staff, and the Prime Minister’s drunk Chief of Staff’s equally drunk mother, for whose presence no one had a satisfactory explanation.

There was a taxi waiting in the shadows and Lacey nearly jumped out of her skin when the lights came on, half-convinced that the secret service had caught them, and they were all about to be thrown in jail for absconding with a supposedly dead body.

These fears were immediately allayed by the taxi driver sticking her head out of the window wearing an incredulous expression.

“Did you two just kidnap the Prime Minister?” she whispered, in as close to a shout of alarm as a whisper could ever get. “I told you I wasn’t getting involved in any illegal activity! You put him back where you found him right now or I’m turning this car around!”

“We’re not kidnapping him, we’re rescuing him,” Carrie said patiently. “And considering we found him in the morgue, we’d really rather not put him back there if it’s all the same to you.”

“Well, technically we found him in a linen closet,” Mrs de Ville pointed out. “Miss French found him in the morgue.”

“Can we please get out of here?” Sutherland asked. “I thought this was a rescue mission; you’re talking more than a fucking cabinet meeting and making about as little sense.”

The stunned taxi driver still did not move.

“Shouldn’t you have a limo and bodyguards and the works?” she asked.

“Well, if we’re going to get technical,” Carrie snapped. “As it is, he’s got us, and I suggest that we get out of here.”

Carrie bundled the Prime Minister into the back of the taxi, much to his protest at being manhandled on top of already having died that evening and been poked with needles by Lacey.

Lacey should have taken this as her cue to leave. He was in good hands; everything would be all right. All she had to do now was avoid the hospital for a couple of days until the furore died down and Sutherland was officially alive and back in Downing Street again.

Her phone buzzed with the arrival of a text message, and the weight of it in her hand reminded her of her earlier phone call to Dorothy and the test tubes of blood she’d dropped off in the pathology lab whilst she’d had Sutherland hiding in the closet. She couldn’t walk away now. Like it or not, she was in too deep. She’d been in too deep the moment she decided to help the poor man avoid the Suits rather than simply informing the necessary authorities that he was alive.

She looked at the message; it was from her father.

DID YOU STEAL THE PM???

She ignored it and shoved her phone back in her bag. She could answer later, once everything wasn’t quite so up in the air.

“Are you coming, darling?” Carrie was standing by the open taxi door. “All things considered I think we might need you. As amazingly put together as I look right now, I’m just a tad worse for wear and a sober brain might be helpful. And, of course, we can work out some kind of recompense for the marvellous help you’ve already given.”

It was not exactly the promise of recompense that swayed Lacey, but she couldn’t deny that when one of the most powerful people in the country – she’d seen Yes Minister, she knew how much power the Civil Service held – said that she might be needed, it did make her preen a little.

“My moped’s round the corner,” she said. “I’ll follow you.”

With that, she thought, she’d effectively thrown her lot in with Sutherland and sealed her fate, no matter what that might be once the Suits caught up to them. If the Suits caught up to them. Maybe now that they’d discovered the body was missing, they’d realise what had happened and give it up as a bad job.

Carrie gave a nod of understanding and got back into the taxi. Immediately a heated discussion started up between her and the taxi driver, and Lacey left them to it, hurrying round the corner to where she’d left her moped, praying that this was not the one night that her luck had run out and she’d been clamped. Mercifully, the tired little Yamaha was waiting for her exactly where she’d left it earlier in the evening, as free as a bird.

A couple of minutes later she was following the taxi down the winding lanes that led away from Stoke Mandeville and into the middle of the dark countryside. She had no idea where she was going, all the roads looked the same at this time of night, and a thought struck her that they might be headed for Chequers. She quickly squashed it; there was no way she’d be allowed in there and Carrie wouldn’t have invited her.

They did not end up outside Chequers. They ended up outside a well-appointed detached house set back from the road on a leafy avenue in a quaint village. It was so typically English and respectable that it made the perfect hideout for a supposedly-dead Prime Minister and his partners in crime, and Lacey had to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation as she pulled into the sweeping driveway and parked up next to the taxi.

“Right. Coffee, I think,” Carrie said as she helped Sutherland out of the back of the taxi. “Would you like to come in for some, Ursula?” she asked the taxi driver. “You can leave your meter running if you like, but after all tonight’s excitement, I think you deserve something.”

Ursula was very visibly in two minds before she switched the taxi engine off and got out.

“Whatever,” she muttered. “Tonight’s already so goddamn weird. Might as well have coffee with the Prime Minister who just got kidnapped from a hospital.”

Mrs de Ville let them into the house and set about making coffee as everyone else settled in the living room – as stylish as Carrie and her mother looked, Lacey had to admit that the décor was absolutely atrocious. Carrie was fussing over Sutherland, who was not at all appreciative.

“I’m not sure I like you like this,” he muttered. “Worrying like a mother hen isn’t a good look on you. Where’s the snarky wisecracker telling me to get a grip every ten minutes.?

“Oh, she’s still here. It’s not every day that your boss dies and rises from the grave. I was distraught, Robert, I’ll have you know. Ask Mother. She’ll have to get the front wall repaired. I can’t believe how dismissive of my affections you are. I’ll withhold them next time you find yourself waking up in a morgue. You’ll be on your own then.”

Sutherland smiled. “That’s the Carrie I know.”

Mrs de Ville came in bearing a tray laden with cups, cafetière, sugar bowl and milk jug, along with a plate of chocolate biscuits, and Lacey reached out to intercept the cup that was heading towards Sutherland.

“No! I told you, you’re on water until we know what killed you. Besides, you already told me you thought it was your coffee that had been poisoned, surely that should put you off the stuff.”

Carrie raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think anything could put Robert off his coffee.”

Sutherland just glowered at Lacey. “Can I at least have a cigarette?” he asked, looking over at Mrs de Ville slotting one into the end of her holder. “After everything I’ve been through tonight, I think I deserve that small comfort at least.”

As a semi medical professional, Lacey knew that the correct answer was no, but the poor man looked so incredibly done with absolutely everything that she relented.

“Fine.”

He looked to Carrie, who had just accepted the pack from her mother and who rolled her eyes before handing it to him.

“Do you ladies mind if we light up?” Mrs de Ville asked Lacey and Ursula. “I wholeheartedly agree with the Prime Minister concerning the stressful events of the night and I’m not even the one who got assassinated.”

Ursula shrugged. “It’s your house, I’m just here for the ride. Well, that’s not strictly true, I’m here because I am the ride.”

“The one good thing about coming home is that I can use a cigarette holder and not look pretentious,” Carrie said.

“No, you still look pretentious,” Sutherland muttered. “There’s just two of you looking pretentious together.”

“I’m sorry, did you say someone had been assassinated?” Ursula said. Everyone in the room pointed to Sutherland and Ursula’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “I’ve been in a car all night, I don’t think I’m up to speed here, and if you’re going to invite me in and give me coffee then I think I need to know the whole story in case some government scientists try to do experiments on me.” She looked at Lacey with suspicion. “You’re not a government scientist, are you?”

“Hell no.” Lacey threw her hands up in defence. “I just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time when the assassinee woke up, because the assassin didn’t do a very good job.”

“Right.” Ursula stared into the depths of her coffee cup and the room fell silent for a while.

“We’ve got to get to the bottom of this before someone realises that you’re missing,” Carrie said suddenly, stubbing out her cigarette and jumping up before grimacing and rubbing her head. “Ugh, Mother, why did you decide that elderflower wine was a good idea?”

“Elderflower wine is always a good idea. I think the problem came when we decided to bring gin into the mix.”

Lacey wished that she wasn’t on her moped. She could really have used some gin.

“Anyway, Sir Albert’s up to his neck in it, I swear. He’s locked me out of everything. Why’s he even down here in the first place? If you’ve got me you shouldn’t need him. He should be running the show up in London.”

Sutherland shrugged. “I didn’t invite him. I didn’t even know he was down here. Bad news must have travelled fast when you found me.”

Carrie shook her head. “No, he was already here, there’s no way he could have got here from London that fast.”

“Well, we already know that he’s a fucking piece of work, so it’s not too much of a stretch of the imagination to think he’d stretch to murder. I mean, he’s always hated me ever since I made it clear I wasn’t going to be his lapdog and he couldn’t just shove his hand up my arse and run the country through me like he did to my predecessor.”

Lacey couldn’t help but give a snort of laughter at that summation.

“It’s settled then. Sir Albert was responsible!” Mrs de Ville clapped her hands together. “I told you I was made to be a sleuth.”

“Mother, you did precisely nothing. And besides, as much as we all hate Sir Albert, we need some kind of proof.” Carrie’s eyes lit up. “Ursula! How do you feel about earning another fare?”

“Is this one going to involve illegal activity?”

“Well, that depends on your definition of illegal.”

Lacey’s phone buzzed again; she hoped it wasn’t her dad persisting with questions about the stolen Prime Minister.

Luckily, it was Dorothy with the test results.

D: Who the hell did you take this blood from? Are they still alive? Have you been sneaking around with your dad’s corpses?

L: Classified, yes, and technically no.

D: Technically… You know what, I don’t want to know. Anyway, here we go.

“Ok, it looks like you were poisoned with something I can’t pronounce that was extracted from the rhododendron plant, and you’ll be pleased to know that you can now eat and drink whatever you’d like as long as it does not contain rhododendrons.”

“Thank God.” Sutherland attacked the plate of biscuits with relish.

The conversation with Dorothy brought Lacey’s mind back full circle to the hospital.

“This Sir Albert guy you keep talking about,” she said. “Tall, grey suit, not much hair and what’s there is white, grey eyes, looks like he could kill you at fifty paces with dour expression alone?”

Sutherland nodded. “Yes, that certainly sounds like him. Head of the Civil Service.”

“Yeah, he was at the hospital. He was the one who kept delaying your autopsy and the one who, according to Dad, went ballistic when he handed off your effects to forensics without his say-so.”

“Yes, that definitely sounds like him.”

Carrie and Sutherland looked at each other.

“Bastard,” Carrie said. “Right, that settles it. We’re going to Chequers for evidence.”

Sutherland grabbed the last biscuit. “Can you get me some clothes whilst you’re there?”

[glorifiedsnickersbar]

Farthest North

Chapter 17 - Pick and Choose

Word count: 1061

         "Papa?" The young Alaska whispered, peering from behind her father toward the strange man with white, red and blue markings on his face. What was going on? Was this a new ally? 

The taller personification bent down, bringing her out from her hiding place as he pat her head, making sure her coat was on correctly, hiding the scars. He motioned with a finger to tell her to smile, and smiled back once he noted she had no showing pointed teeth. This would make the deal much easier. 

     Money was exchanged, and young Alaska watched as her father left her land, making no move to call for him, beg him to come back. She held no questions as to why he sold her, it was bound to happen. She was useless to him, her resources nearly depleted, her people ravaged and she... wasn't able to take much more abuse. A painful reminder that she was still healing came as this newcomer placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she flinched away. America frowned, his bowler hat and trench coat firmly pressed to his body as a gust of wind flew by, making everyone but the territory flinch at its painful stab. Alaska noted that the Country was still shivering, even under his coat, so did what her father said not to, and took off the far to big parka, walking around and placing it on his shoulders. The man smiled, nodding his thanks, until he saw the deep cuts and bruises, loosely bandaged, all over her now bare arms, up her neck, around her fingers, and probably down her tiny stick legs, covered in some sort of hide, as most of her native people wore.

     Reaching out a hand, the girl winced, stepping back, but America patiently waited, extended hand showing no threat. She neared, slowly, until he could turn her around, exposing multiple deep wounds as he further loosened the bandaging on her neck, some still having shards of glass embedded in her skin, covered over as her body repaired itself.

         "What did he do to you?" he turned her around again, seeing tears fall from her cute little face. Was it fear? Pain?

The Country could only bring her closer in a gentle hug as he whispered.

         "Never, shall you feel this abuse again..."

And her flag changed.

~.~

         "Vonderful!" Third applauded, reaching out to take the map of France, but Alaska hit his hands away before he could touch it.

         "How many times must I tell you?" she growled, teeth bared, "I make it, I keep it. If you so badly want your own, do it yourself."

         "Is zhat any vay to speak to your fah-ter?" He pointed an accusing finger, but this only made her growl.

         "You are no fadher of mine."

To this the Nazi menace only smiled sweetly, rounding the table to look at the woman straight on. Leaning against its edge, he spoke once more, as a father would his child.

         "Sveet thing, I am zhe closest to a fah-ter you vill ever have. Who helped you in your times of frustration? Who assured you vere not a monster, a freak of nature! Vhat country made sure you vere not alone on hot nights filled wizh zhe screams of your people caught be-tvween zhe fires?"

Alaska shook, refusing to listen, but she couldn't help but hear him. He was the only one who ever showed compassion when most would have run away, sold her off, made her someone else's problem. Third helped her, Third let her be herself... with no price asked, nothing in return. He cared for her in those few measly years... he made an impact she'd never forget.

     A cold hand placed itself on her shoulder, the fabric of the uniform raging hot in comparison. Third Reich offered a cold glass of water, to which the State took eagerly, downing the glass as another heat wave ravaged her land, and she fell to her knees, reigning in a sob as she felt the death of another one of her citizens. 

         "I... need to help them..." she tried to get up, but was stopped by the red, white and black colored menace, who only gave her a worried expression.

         "You vill only hurt yourself further, schatz*," he advised, "you are no good to zhem dead."

         "Did you tell zhat to Hitler?" she cackled, and Third prickled. Never has she mocked him in such a way, then again she has only seen him once since the beginning of World War 2. He couldn't decide if he was proud that she gave in to such a torturous joke, or if he was enraged. The man decided to go for the first of two.

         "You're accent is getting stronger," he chuckled, "I vill make a German of you yet."

         "Good luck," she huffed, smoke escaping her mouth as she looked up to the failed Country, a dangerous shimmer in her eye as she smiled with menacing teeth, "I am Russian at heart, Dhird Reich. Ah-nd ve are known for being stubborn."

     With this planted in his mind, Alaska stood, rolling the map into a canister, before placing it in what was a wine wall, long emptied. 20 more filled the small holes in the wall. The blue and gold woman stood back, admiring her work. 20 of 195 countries demolished... and all this planning was done in a mere 4 hours. Nothing held her back with Third Reich. No constant nagging in her mind that these were her friends, most of them. Out of sight, out of mind, and Third knew that. He knew her better than even USSR, and he was so proud of himself, but it only showed in a twisted smirk. With Alaska as his ally, he could rule the world! If he were to die, she could take over, follow in his foot steps. If only this woman were his daughter, if only he had offered to buy her off from America before he started the war, but he was to eager in this, and wanted her to betray the American. That would have hurt much worse. He wanted his way... and he would get it, but this would come at a cost, but for her, he would gladly excuse his old habits. He couldn't betray his treasure.

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

*Schatz - Treasure (German)

The above picture was drawn by me, using colored pencil and ink pen. And yes I do realize America’s flag is incorrectly drawn, this was an old fan art I made for the story but I’m very proud of the shading.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

Portuguese red candle tradition

alright here it is, fizz’s Christmas present this is based on the hallmark movie “the most wonderful time of the year” which is on YouTube and you should all watch it.

______ ship: ralbert genre: idiots warnings: fake trees and mild scream sesh words: 2077 woooweee editing: nope scope rope ______

Albert Dasilva did not like dogs. Ever since his uncle’s dog had tried to bite off his thumb in the third grade he’d been deathly afraid of them. And yet, here he was, running a dog walking business.

But what he hated even more were cats.

They were just inexplicably evil. How was it that virtually every human being on the planet went all uwu whenever they saw a cat? Albert just didn't trust them. They were definitely in charge of the illuminati. Actually, Albert had made a video on that very topic on his youtube channel last year that had over 1.4 million views. It was his biggest accomplishment to date.

But we’re getting off topic here. What’s really important is that Albert hates cats.

So how was it that he found himself walking three of them?

Yes, you read that right. Walking not one, not two, but three whole cats. Through his dog walking business, which annoyed him to no end because it was clearly a dog walking business, not a cat walking business and plus there was the question of who the hell would pay someone to walk their cats? And it was also blizzarding. But he was a broke 24 year old living out of his van and cash was cash so he put himself through the torture of walking three yowling cats.

Finally, 2 whole hours later - which was an hour longer than it took to walk dogs, curse these stupid cats - he was trudging up to the fancy suburban upper middle class house to deposit the ferocious beasts and then go freeze in his van.

The door opened, revealing the semi attractive cat owner himself - he would have been actually attractive had it not been for the fact that he not only owned three cats but also paid Albert to walk them. Oh, he had a name. It was something strange. Tack? Ruce? No. Oh yes, Race.

“My furry babies!” Race squealed as bend down to embrace his cats. Rather anticlimactically, two of them ran right past Race into the house. The third tripped climbing through the front door, giving Race just enough time to scoop him up and pet him. Sorta like Cruella Da Ville. Exept with a cat.

“Thanks for walking them,” Race said, smiling as he shifted the cat to hand Al an envelope with his pay in it.

“Yeah you're welcome,” Al said, accepting the envelope.

“You got someplace warm to stay?” Race asked somewhat awkwardly.

Albert gestured to his van that was parked at the end of the driveway. “You’re looking at it.”

Race’s eyes widened and he nearly dropped his cat. “You live out of a van?”

Albert rolled his eyes, all but ready to throw a fat, wet snowball into Mr. McPrissy’s face. “I do. It’s easier than a house cause I just kinda come and go as I please.”

“You- you what?” Race stuttered. “I can’t believe in a car you're gonna freeze to death. And then whos gonna walk my cats! No one else is dumb enough to do such a job.”

Albert had had just about enough of this asshole and his dumb cats. “Listen. Not all of us are satisfied by being business executives-”

“Nurses.”

“-okay? I’ve been traveling around the country in that van since the night of my high school graduation doing weird things and meeting all sorts of cool people - except you, you're an asshole - and I’ve spent much colder winters than this in Minnesota in that van. I think I’ll be okay.” And with that he began to stomp down the snowy steps back to his van.

“Why don't you stay here tonight?”

Albert froze in his place and turned dramatically to look over his shoulder. “What?”

“I said, why don't you stay here tonight?” Race repeated. His arms were crossed and the wind was blowing his blonde locks into this hard set blue eyes. He definitely looked pretty, er, meant business.

Still, Albert retaliated. What an idiot.

“Did you not hear me? Winters in Minnesota.”

“I heard you,” Race said firmly. “And I’m not asking you to move in with me. Just spend the night someplace warm. I don't want you to get hypothermia, I can tell you from personal experience that it’s not fun.”

Albert sighed. He really wanted to say no, he really did. He didn't want to be anywhere near that weirdo or his cats anytime soon. But the prospect of an actual bed and a warm house was too inviting. Begrudgingly, he trudged back up the steps, uttering a small “thank you” before stepping inside.

And almost throwing up at the accursed sight before him.

“You have a fake silver christmas tree?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Race said, pulling the door shut behind him.

“No?” Albert stared at his new host in disbelief. “People actually buy real trees. With needles. And sap. You’re not doing Christmas right.”

“How dare you mosey into my house and tell me I’m not doing Christmas right.” Race scoffed, crossing his arms. One of his cats mewed menacingly behind him. Truly it was nice touch.

“Well you’re not!” Albert exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “Look if I’m going to stay here, you’re going to have a real tree.”

Race looked skeptical.

Albert rolled his eyes, mimicking Race’s annoyed stance. “Think of it as a Christmas present. It is just a few days away.”

Race sighed loudly, looking up at the ceiling. “Fine,” he mumbled.

Despite himself, Albert smiled.

“And where might I get a ‘real Christmas tree,’ O Great And Powerful Christmas Tree Lord?”

“At a tree lot,” Albert said. “D u h.”

“Well I’m not exactly an official Christmas tree connoisseur,” Race said, reaching for his coat. “I assume we’re going now?”

“Of course. I refuse to spend one more minute in this house with that - that thing.” Albert said playfully.

“Oh shut up it’s not that bad. My grandmother used to have a pink one,” Race said, grabbing his keys.

Albert shuddered. “Good thing I won’t be meeting her.”

“She’s dead.”

Albert flung open the front door dramatically. “Even better.”

Race groaned loudly as he pulled the door shut and locked it, causing the giant wreath on the front door to fall to the ground with a small oof.

“Race,” Albert said disappointedly, “the wreath is too big.”

“No,” Race countered, picking it up, “the hook is too small.”

“So he a bigger hook.”

“I don’t have one.”

“So buy a smaller wreath.”

“I like this one.”

“You are so difficult I wish I had just slept in my car!”

“Yeah well you’re not exactly pleasant either, coming in here telling me that I’m doing Christmas ‘wrong’!”

“Who buys a fake silver tree?!”

“I do!!”

“It's not even green!”

“So?”

“So-it’s,” Albert began, but stopped suddenly. There was something about the determination set on Race’s face that made him want to kiss the shit out of him.

Albert you son of a bitch. You could have gotten the hots for anyone and you choose the guy who has three cats and a silver Christmas tree?

“Excuse me, Race, sorry to interrupt.”

Albert pulled himself out of his romantic exploits that may or may not have involved him and Race making out under the fake silver tree to see that another man had joined them on the porch, seemingly out of thin air.

“Hi Romeo,” Race said tightly.

“I just happened to notice that you haven’t put up your Christmas lights yet, and you know we’re goin for the whole street this year. Nothing fancy just white lights - only white.” He gave Race a pointed stare. “You don’t wanna be-”

“-the only dark house on Christmas Eve,” Race finished exasperatedly. “I know.”

“So you’ll get on it?” Romeo asked, seemingly oblivious to Race’s disinterest.

“Yes I’ll get on it, now if you’ll excuse me I really have to go run some errands.”

This time, Romeo seemed to get the hint and he scurried off back to his house next door - ah so he was a neighbor, that made more sense.

Albert turned to Race. “Change of plans,” he announced. “You’re getting the tree by yourself.”

Race eyed him skeptically. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to put up your lights. That neighbor sounded pissed.”

Race rolled his eyes. “You’re a dog walker, you’re hardly qualified.”

“And you’re a business executive.”

“Nurse!!”

“Same difference!” Albert groaned. “And besides, I’ve done all sorts of odd jobs, I was a handyman a few years back in Colorado. I know my way around a ladder.”

“Well,” Race saw that there was no way of getting out of this argument, “if you insist.”

“Oh I do insist. And I got a little something special to keep your neighbor away,” Albert winked mischievously.

“Alright, whatever,” Race waved him off. “Just don’t get me sued. And what kind of tree do I buy?”

“A big one, we need a thick stick!” Albert called over his shoulder as he headed over to the garage. With any bit of luck, this plan should work.

•••

By the time Race got back with the tree, Albert had just finished stringing up the lights so he decided to flex on his host - literally and figuratively - by bringing the tree inside and setting it up. The three cats - whom he had learned were named Steve, Peter, and Tony after Race’s favorite Marvel characters -mewed at it suspiciously before going to do their cat related activities, like take over the world.

They had just began to put the ornaments on, laughing and having a grand time singing along to crappy pop Christmas songs, when the doorbell rang.

Race set down the glass ball he was holding and went to answer the door. “I’ll be right back, do not munch that.”

Albert looked at him quizzically.

“I don’t know man, you just seem like the kind of person who would.” Then he left, leaving Albert to question his mental well-being.

However, all of that was abandoned when he heard the shrill voice of Race’s neighbor and he ran to the door to watch his plan unfold.

“Race,” Romeo was saying, “come here I need to show you something.”

Albert watched from the door as Romeo pulled Race out into the lawn and pointed up at the one red bulb he had put in the strand of white lights and couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s red.” Romeo said, holding out his palm. “I brought you a white one, if you want it.”

“No actually,” Albert said, stepping out of the house. “We did that on purpose. See there’s this thing where I come from called the Portuguese Red Candle Tradition - very old and sacred tradition - where you put out one red candle, or light, to keep away the dark spirits. It’s said to bring good luck.”

Romeo stood open mouthed.

“I have one inside if you want it.”

Romeo shook his head.

“Great, well then if you don’t mind Race and I have a tree to finish decorating. Ta ta,” he said, pulling Race inside and shutting the door, hearing the oof of the wreath falling off the door once again.

Race stood with his arms crossed. “There’s no such thing as the Portuguese Red Candle Tradition, is there?”

Albert fidgeted. “No.”

“And you know by putting that one red bulb there you’re going to drive him absolutely nuts right?”

“I had the general idea, yes.”

“And you know that he’s gonna drive me insane about fixing it right?”

“Well-”

“Is that why you do you just waltz into peoples houses and make their lives more difficult?”

“I didn’t do anything I was trying to help!”

“Oh like you were with the tree?”

“Hey, everyone deserves to have a good tree!”

“My tree was perfectly fine!”

“It was made of plastic!”

“Perfectly nice plastic!”

“Yeah well your tree can go to hell!”

“You know who else can go to hell?”

“Lemme guess, me?!”

“Exactly!!”

And then Race’s lips were pressed into his.

Albert had to admit, it wasn’t the most romantic kiss ever, what with the satanic cats mewing in the background and the ugly silver tree in pieces on the floor, but maybe, just maybe, it was a good idea that he didn’t freeze to death in his van that night.

______

we Stan a pair of idiots, happy Christmas fizzy babe I hope I did you a solid

tag list tomorrow

[shireness-says]

A Sunlit Night

Summary:  He expects to be in Storybrooke, Maine, just long enough to fix his motorcycle - a few days, maybe a week, at most. But that's before he's enchanted by the local waitress. ~2.3 K. Rated T for mild swearing and some making out. Also on AO3.

A/N: There are so many things I need to be working on right now, but I wrote this instead. It’s a short little 50s-ish AU featuring Killian on a motorcycle, and it would not leave me alone. Special thanks to @snidgetsafan, who encouraged me every step of the way and was an amazing beta. You rock, babe.

Tagging a few folks who have shown interest or I think might like this: @distant-rose, @kmomof4, @branlovesouat, @searchingwardrobes.

He’s a bad influence, they say. He certainly has the look for it, if nothing else - all dark hair and piercing eyes and leather when he comes riding in on his motorcycle. If his goal was to fit in, this isn’t the place to do it - a little nowhere-ville called Storybrooke, Maine, where everyone knows everyone and Killian Jones, with his accent and his rough looks, stands out like a sore thumb. He never intended to stop here, a fact he thinks should be obvious, but his gas tank is empty and there’s a concerning rattle in his bike’s engine and he still doesn’t know where the hell he’s going. It’s supposed to just be a few days’ or a week’s layover in town - just enough time to try and trade his labor at the local garage or gas station in return for parts and a full tank of gas before he goes off, chasing that horizon again.

But then he sees her.

She’s got all the cliché trappings of a good girl - all golden curls and charming smiles as she works her shifts at the town’s 24 hour diner in a uniform that looks far too good on her for something so hopelessly out of date. She’s an angel in disguise, he thinks, sent down to Earth in this absurdly tiny town just to remind him that there are still things in life worth living for.

The angel’s name is Emma, he learns when she brings him a cup of tea he can barely afford. Emma Swan. It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful woman, and he’s immediately enchanted in a way that leaves him mutely staring when she asks what he’ll have to eat. Not his finest moment, for certain, especially when he has a reputation to maintain.

(She still brings him a plate of pancakes later, his angel, with syrup and sausages on the side. “Granny’s got a bit of a soft spot for the lonely ones,” she says, and Killian wonders if Emma might have a soft spot for orphans as well.)

He’s only supposed to be in this dead-end town for a few days at most, just long enough to earn the parts and gas he needs and get the hell out of there. But he lingers. He’d say it’s against his conscious will, but Killian knows exactly why he’s lingering, and that reason works everyday at Granny’s Diner. He hasn’t been a romantic man in years - the war eliminating any fanciful tendencies he might have had - but sitting there, watching her breeze between tables and smile at everyone like a treasured friend, he just wants to write pretty words and pretty verses about a pretty girl, forgoing the words of human suffering that have haunted his mind and his pen ever since he was pulled out of the sea and Liam wasn’t.

It’s easy enough to pick up shifts at the local garage. Kilian doesn’t have any formal training in automotive repair, per se, but there’s things you pick up in the war, and engine maintenance is one of them (even if he’s more accustomed to keeping an airplane running than an automobile). David Nolan looks at him with suspicion, but ultimately, he’s a fair man with a big-hearted wife, and that proves enough for him to give Killian a shot. The pay isn’t great, but it’s suitable enough, and money will take you further out here in the country anyways. It should be easy and quick enough to earn enough to fix up his bike and cruise out of town with enough left over for several more tanks of gas.

What’s harder is keeping his earnings when there’s a pretty blonde serving comfort food just down the street who deserves a generous tip. A bad influence like him ought to stay away from a golden goddess like that, but he’s drawn to her in ways he doesn’t have proper words to express. Maybe a younger Killian Jones would have called it fate, but the man he’s become doesn’t believe any more that Fortuna is prone to such generosity. Still, he’s there every evening after the garage closes for a bite to eat, before going back to sleep on the couch in the garage’s office (the most charity he’s willing to accept from the kind Mrs. Nolan). Maybe it’s meant to be - maybe they really are supposed to keep running into one another. But on the other hand, maybe he’s seeking Emma Swan out, and maybe he just likes the way she blushes when he leaves a 50% tip for a ham sandwich and a cup of tea.

It’s probably just a stroke of luck that they both end up in Granny’s one night, alone except for the short-order cook, both plagued by insomnia (and, in Killian’s case, memories he’d rather leave sunken in the cold water of the Atlantic). He likes to watch the stars on nights like this, soothed by the vastness of the universe, but it’s far too cold outside at this time of year in Maine, so he contents himself with sitting as close to the window as the vinyl booth seat will allow, staring at the sky as he waits for his chamomile tea. Normally, he’d prefer rum, but bloody dry counties have left him without stronger recourse.

“You’re the wanderer,” Miss Swan says when she brings his steaming cup, and it’s the nicest description Killian thinks he’s heard for his life at present. It’s a joy to see the way her face unexpectedly lights up at his shy nod. “You have to tell me everything,” she all but demands, sliding into the seat across from him. And in that moment, his heart is lost forever, stolen by a petite angel and tucked into her apron pocket alongside her pens and order pad.

Emma Swan may live in a tiny, nowhere town, Killian learns, but her thoughts are filled with the world at large, and the hope that she’ll one day get to explore every corner of it. She tells him, that first night, of all the places she dreams of seeing, and in return he tells her a bit of how he came to be riding aimlessly through America, of how after soaring through the open skies in the cockpit of his plane, nothing ever compared again. So he had bought the bike upon his arrival in the States, in a vain attempt to replicate that feeling the only way he can.

(He doesn’t tell her that he bought his bike and the ticket to America with the pension granted to him by the government for his brother’s death, doesn’t tell her how he couldn’t bear to be in that country for one day longer, to be thanked for his service and his sacrifice one more time. He doesn’t tell her that he rides in a desperate attempt to forget everything he’s done and everything he’s lost - not yet. That’s a conversation for a later date and some illicit rum.)

Theirs becomes a relationship built on tales of adventure - those he’s experienced and those she dreams of. It’s unconventional, maybe, but it makes her eyes light up in excitement and wonder, and he’ll do anything to see that happen, over and over again. That’s not all there is to it; those beginnings evolve into deeper conversations about how this town is the only family she has and how the sounds of explosions and grinding metal haunt his dreams at night. But that’s how it starts: two people in a diner, talking about how they’d rather be anywhere but here.

(He was only supposed to be here for a few days, a week at most, but the more he talks with Emma Swan, the more Killian Jones wants to never leave her side.)

He’s falling in love with her, he comes to realize over cups of tea and slices of pie and that absurdly sweet hot chocolate concoction she so adores. It’s not nearly as terrifying a realization as he thought it’d be, opening his heart up to someone after resigning himself to life as a loner. There’s still outside forces to contend with - Mrs. Nolan and Granny Lucas may like him, but the rest of the town views him with suspicious eyes, especially if they catch him watching their favorite blonde waitress. David Nolan offers him particularly stern looks on days when Emma brings him lunch down at the garage of her own accord, like Killian’s corrupting her somehow, but Killian learns to deal with it. It’s a preposterous thought anyways, that anything could dim that light, even good-for-nothing drifters with looks too sharp to be safe.

(He still wonders ever day at the fact that she willingly seeks him out. After all, she’s joy and sunlight and everything good; doesn’t she know that he’s a creature better suited for the night and dark thoughts and everything that logic says ought to snuff out her light?)

(But she’s there all the same, his very own saving grace, determined to create starlight in the overwhelming darkness that’s consumed his soul in these past few years.)

Still, he’d never in a million years dare to imagine Emma might reciprocate his tender feelings. She’s a good girl, beloved by an entire town, and Killian’s been around long enough to know that angels like that don’t end up the best girl of guys like him - unknown quantities with a sketchy look about them. In retrospect, there’s probably a lot of signs that he’s missed - lingering hand touches and the way she smiles just that little bit brighter when she sees Killian in their regular booth - but it’s not until she’s kissing the holy hell out of him at her favorite overlook of Storybrooke (and again, looking back, she obviously was asking him on a date, how did he miss all the signs?) that the reality that she might like him too sinks in. It’s not at all what he expected from this evening, but if he’s being honest, it’s everything he’s wanted since the moment he first set eyes on his golden goddess. There’s a sense of inner peace, a rightness, in the way their lips slide together that he’s never felt before, even if they are engaged in an increasingly passionate kiss. In his wistful imaginings, Killian always thought that if he and Emma ever kissed, it’d be a gentle affair, tentative and slow, but Emma continues to take him by surprise, enthusiastically initiating their kiss and diving right in with gusto, fingers grasping his hair, tongue demanding entrance to his mouth instead of requesting it. She jumps in head first, his lass (his lass!), and he loves her for it, really and truly. He only hopes she can tell that he’s all in as well in the way he tries to pull her body just that little bit closer on the blanket. As he carefully slides a hand into those golden curls he’s so enamored of - only the best for his angel, even when she’s making it awfully hard to reign himself in - he can’t help the passing thought that he’d be perfectly content to stay like this forever.

The next weeks are a happy blur of treasured kisses and stolen moments, but their time together runs out before he’d like it to, as he knew it always would. He’s put in enough hours at the garage to fund the replacement parts for his engine and earned a tidy little gas fund to boot. This was always meant to be just a few days - a week at most, but now five weeks have passed, and there’s no putting off the inevitable any longer. Even if Killian is ready to leave Storybrooke, he doesn’t relish the thought of leaving Emma behind. He certainly didn’t come to this one-stoplight town looking for love, but he found it anyway, and it hurts his newly rediscovered heart to even contemplate letting such a precious thing slip through his fingers.

So he doesn’t. There’s not much he can offer Emma - Lord knows she deserves an awful lot more than he can ever hope to give - but her dearest wish is to see the world, and that’s the one thing he can give her. It’ll be rough sometimes, and a motorcycle certainly won’t offer any sort of luxury travel, but Killian knows he was right to ask her when Emma throws her arms around his neck in enthusiastic acceptance. No second guessing; no hesitation; considerably less rational thought than such a decision should require; just an unequivocal yes.

They’ll be back someday, he thinks, when Emma’s gotten her fill of the great wide world she yearns to see. Storybrooke is her home, no matter what wanderlust she feels now; it’s filled with people who love her and have adopted her in their hearts, even if there’s no paperwork to prove it. Killian may not truly fit in Storybrooke, but as Emma’s arms tighten around his waist and her exhilarated laughter rings over the roar of the wind and of the engine, he knows he fits with her. Emma is like the missing half of his soul - the piece that makes him feel like he finally is doing something right for the first time in literal years, the person who gives him direction and makes him feel like he actually belongs somewhere again. He belongs with Emma, and Emma belongs in Storybrooke, so he’ll carve a space for himself in town.

(He’d do anything she asks for the privilege to simply remain by her side.)

That’s a concern for another day, though. Today, there’s just the open road in front of them and tendrils of spun gold whipping in the wind as Storybrooke recedes into the background, smaller and smaller in his side mirrors. There’s no telling where the winds and roads might take them, but he knows they’re both in this for the long haul, and that’s enough for today.

Today, they’ve got the whole world in front of them.

[jghouse-asia-pacific]

New Post has been published on https://www.jg-house.com/2021/02/09/old-man-friend-paris/

An Old Man and His Friend in Paris

“Watch where you’re going, Little Man,” Sylvere said, speaking in Kikongo and placing his hand on the head of the small boy. Sylvere stood next to the open drawer of his desk inside the room he used as an office at his modest but comfortable two-story house in the old section, built in the ’70s, of Combs-la-Ville not far from the municipal swimming pool. He had been looking for some documents which he never did find. The boy, Charles, who was five years old, had burst through the open door of the room, kicking a small soccer ball with one foot and running head first into the older man’s legs.

“Désolé, Papy,” Charles said, picking up the ball with both hands and running back through the open door into the hallway toward the kitchen. Sylvere watched the boy disappear. The light in the room, which came from the sunlight entering a narrow window in the western wall, was growing weaker as the sun set.

“He spends more time here than in his own house,” Sylvere said to himself, wondering if his grandson, the son of his oldest daughter, Sylvie, and her husband, Richard, was going to spend the night again. It was almost 7:00 on a Sunday evening, the day before Bastille Day, France’s most important holiday. Probably his daughter and son-in-law would be going out somewhere to celebrate, not that they needed a special occasion to dump their son on his grandparents.

“Papy!” the boy yelled from the kitchen. “Grandma says your dinner is ready!” The boy’s French was improving every day.

Sylvere realized he was hungry. He grasped the handle of the drawer and was pushing it back into the wooden desk frame when he thought he saw a flash of red light. He opened the drawer again, pulling it out as far as it would go. This time he was certain. He saw a flash of red light at the back of the drawer. He hadn’t noticed it earlier because the light of the day still predominated. He removed all of the contents from the drawer. There, lying against the bare wood at the back, he saw it. How did it get there?

The sight of a mobile phone in that location perplexed Sylvere. Then he recognized the device. It was the one he used when, upon retiring from IBM where he had worked for almost 40 years as an electrical engineer, he worked on occasion as a consultant, accepting small projects from clients in France and other countries of Europe. After another few moments, Sylvere recalled he had used the phone perhaps two weeks before to make a single short call because the contact information of the former colleague he had wanted to reach was stored inside the device.

Two Boys on a Boat

Sylvere grasped the phone. Immediately, he noticed the battery was dying. It very well might die at any moment, he realized. But also, he saw that he had missed three calls. Each one was from the same phone number. The number was not one Sylvere recognized, although he did recognize the first part, +243, the country code of Congo.

Then Sylvere noticed three new voice-mail messages waiting for him. Realizing the battery of the phone could die at any moment, he attempted to listen to the messages. He was able to listen to the first one. Next, he was able to move to the second one. Finally, he listened to the third one. The battery died.

Sylvere placed the phone on top of the desk, turned around, walked through the open door of his office, turned to the left, and entered the kitchen. He walked to one side of the kitchen. It was the side opposite the operational part of the room with its stove, oven, sink, and other appliances. It was in this part that his wife, Josephine, and his daughters seemed to cook and clean at all hours of the day and night, but here too he sometimes prepared a special Congolese recipe of white beans just for himself.

Now a plate with a piece of fish and a portion of vegetables from which steam still rose awaited Sylvere at the table. He sat down before the plate.

“Will you want anything else?” Josephine asked, speaking in Lingala, the predominant language among residents of Kinshasa, where she and Sylvere had met each other many years before. “I want to go into the living room and watch the television for a little while.”

“No, merci,” Sylvere replied, smiling at his wife, who left the room. The boy was nowhere to be seen. Probably he already was in the other room watching cartoons. But Sylvere was thinking about his childhood friend, Ronald. Sylvere had been thinking of Ronald since hearing a few minutes before the three voice-mail messages which the doctor in Kabare had left for Sylvere over the course of the previous two weeks.

Now Ronald was dead. Now Claudette, Ronald’s daughter, was in desperate need of Sylvere’s help. Sylvere knew he had to honor the wishes of his friend, who in his final message just a few days before he was killed by militia members had issued an urgent appeal to Sylvere: Please rescue my daughter from Congo and take her to France.

***

Charles jerked his hand free of Josephine’s hand and ran toward the other boy, who held a half-full bottle of orange soda in one hand and with the other was waving a toy robot in the face of a small girl. Josephine and Sylvere, moving more slowly, followed their grandson through the open front door of the house into a large, high-ceilinged room, where in addition to children a group of adults sat in chairs or stood around a long table covered in a white embroidered cloth and laden with dishes displaying a variety of foods. Music came from a speaker placed on one end of a bar which divided the front room from the kitchen and a backyard beyond.

The music wasn’t too loud. It mixed easily with voices, laughter, and sounds of children playing in the hot, still air of the room. Sylvere recognized the song. It was a famous ballad, called Wapi Yo, by the singer and song writer Lokua Kanza, who came from the town of Bukavu in eastern Congo just west of the border with Rwanda.

Young Woman

“We won’t stay long,” Josephine said to her husband. “I know you don’t like these parties.” She was speaking in Lingala. “Anyway, we can’t stay long,” she continued. “Sylvie and Richard will be at our house at 5:30 to pick up Charles. Sylvie has the early shift at the airport tomorrow.” Josephine waved at a woman across the room. “But I want a chance to talk with my friend, Berenice,” Josephine added, starting to walk away. “I haven’t seen her for over a month.”

“She’s right,” Sylvere said to himself, watching his wife as she greeted people in the room. “I don’t like these parties, either to celebrate Bastille Day or any other day.”

Sylvere wanted a chance to talk with his friend too. He had an urgent matter to discuss with him in fact. Sylvere glanced at his watch. It was almost 3:00. The afternoon was passing quickly. He knew it wouldn’t be easy to have a moment in private with his friend, Pinto, though. Even if Sylvere didn’t want to celebrate the holiday, Pinto had no choice. As the owner of the house and the host of the party, he had duties to fulfill.

“I hope you didn’t walk over here,” said a voice. Sylvere looked to his right at a man who had stood up from a sofa under the front window of the house with its view of a garden of red and white roses, a gate made of black wrought iron, and the street itself which led down the hill to the center of Combs-la-Ville. The man, who was a few years younger than Sylvere, had spoken his words in French as he approached. “It’s hot outside,” the man added in Lingala, laughing.

“It’s hot inside,” Sylvere replied quietly in French, looking back toward the middle of the room and trying to spot Pinto. He had never really liked the man now standing next to him. The man, Serge, who had grown up in Kinshasa but who like Sylvere had lived for many years in France, always seemed to try too hard to impress others, particularly other members of the Congolese community, with ostentatious shows of wealth. He and his wife, Penelope, had a reputation for showing up to a party flashing expensive pieces of jewelry they had purchased for the occasion only to put the necklaces, rings, and earrings up for sale on one Web site or another after the event.

“Maybe they think nobody knows,” Bernadette, Pinto’s wife, had once said to Josephine. “But it’s more likely they just can’t control themselves.”

Sylvere typically didn’t concern himself with such matters but at that moment he found himself looking at Serge, moving his gaze across the younger man’s hands, arms, and neck. It appeared that Serge was not wearing, in fact, any jewelry at all. Sylvere was about to scan the room for Penelope when he stopped himself. Suddenly, he felt the need to know something else entirely, even if he had to ask the opinion of a man known for his materialism, not his wisdom.

Old Man on a Boat

“Do you think we’ll ever have a stable political system in Congo?” Sylvere asked in Lingala.

“Stable?” Serge replied. He took a sip from a glass of lemonade he held in one hand and studied Sylvere’s face. “Stable how?”

“Stable like the institutions here in France,” Sylvere said, looking across the large room into the kitchen. He saw Bernadette standing in front of a wide stove. She was using a wooden spoon to stir the contents of a pot.

“Oh,” Serge said. He took another sip of lemonade from his glass. “I see,” he continued, looking at Sylvere with a glint in his eye. “You’re asking because of the French holiday we have today,” Serge added. Then he smiled, tilting his head slightly to one side, as if he had caught Sylvere in a trick. Sylvere, though, was silent, scanning the people in the room. He still didn’t see his friend, Pinto. “Well,” Serge said finally, “no, honestly, I don’t. But don’t forget the French rebelled against Louis XVI in 1789 and then fell into the grip of Napoleon in 1799. He was a warlord who led the French into disaster. France wasn’t stable then; Frenchmen weren’t free.”

“Congo is rich and has great promise,” Sylvere replied, even though he didn’t think the prospect for peace back home would improve any time soon. Serge waited. He expected an elaboration of some sort from Sylvere. But Sylvere was silent again, watching the people in the room. Serge turned to look at the other party goers too. He drank the final few drops of lemonade from his glass. Then he turned back to Sylvere.

“So you didn’t walk over here?” Serge pressed Sylvere, laughing again. Serge knew Sylvere lived close by. He also knew Sylvere recently had started walking two miles every day and swimming 50 laps in the municipal pool three times per week in an effort to lose weight and improve his overall fitness. But Sylvere, who had just driven Josephine and Charles the four blocks from his house on Rue Gustave Hervé to Pinto’s house on Rue René Descartes in his old beige Renault 360C sedan, had no desire to humor the man.

“Pinto needs to have two or three fans going at the same time in this room,” Sylvere said, again speaking quietly in French before noticing one small fan turning rapidly on its axis at the end of the bar near the mouth of the kitchen. “He needs to put a big one right here next to the front door,” Sylvere added, turning to look at the ground behind him.

“He did,” Serge said. “But a few minutes before you arrived it stopped working.” Serge paused. “Pinto said he could fix it,” Serge continued, glancing in the direction of the backyard. “Then he disappeared outside with it.” Sylvere didn’t react. A silence ensued. Sylvere was thinking about going outside too. But he decided to prepare a plate of food for himself before going into the backyard to find Pinto. Serge shifted his weight from one foot to another. “Sylvere, I’m sorry about Ronald,” he added. Sylvere looked at Serge.

Mother and Son at Restaurant

“Yes, me too,” Sylvere said finally, moving toward the table with its dishes of food. Bernadette, who was approaching the table from the kitchen, stopped in front of Sylvere. She was carrying a large earthenware pot covered by a glass lid in both hands.

“Try some of my white beans,” Bernadette said in Kikongo to Sylvere, placing the large pot next to a dish of vegetables on the table and removing the glass lid. Like Sylvere, Bernadette and her husband, Pinto, were members of the Kongo ethnic group originating in southwestern Congo. “I think my recipe is better than yours,” she added. Then she placed the lid back on the pot and looked at Sylvere. “But you can eat later,” she said. “Pinto is waiting for you in the shed.”

Sylvere, relieved no one else attempted to talk with him as he made his way into the backyard, found Pinto in the aluminum shed he had transformed into a small workshop. The two men had known each other for more than 40 years. They had met not back in Africa, however, but rather in Europe, where both of them had gone to work at the French headquarters of IBM in Paris at about the same time. Both of them had been able to emigrate from Congo to France because of their educational background and their technical expertise as electrical engineers.

In front of Pinto on a high bench in the middle of the workshop was a large fan which he had disassembled and now was in the act of re-assembling.

“I had to replace a relay,” Pinto said in Kikongo, glancing at Sylvere. “It should work now.” He plugged the power cord into an outlet and flipped a switch on the fan. Nothing happened.

“You better hurry up and fix it,” Sylvere replied. “If your guests haven’t left already, all of them are going to die of heat stroke.” Then he told Pinto about the calls and accompanying voicemail messages from Ronald. Pinto, who had not had a personal relationship with Ronald but who had heard about the doctor’s death like everyone else, didn’t speak. Sitting silently on his stool, Pinto placed both hands palms down on the work bench for a few moments. Then he removed the power cord from the outlet and stared at the fan.

“What are you going to do?” Pinto asked finally.

“I’m going to honor Ronald’s wishes,” Sylvere replied. “I’m going to bring Claudette to France.”

“Yes, I understand,” Pinto said. “But how are you going to do it?” Both Sylvere and Pinto knew how difficult it was to bring an African either legally or illegally to Europe. Both knew that in the end it could prove impossible.

“I don’t know yet,” Sylvere said, leaning over the bench and switching the positions of two tiny electronic components near the base of the fan’s blades. He re-inserted the power cord and flipped the switch. The blades started turning slowly then very rapidly. “But now you’re going to help me.”

***

#Europe, #France, #LifeCulture #Beauty, #Culture, #Love, #Paris

[brainr0t-inc]

There was not an excited bone present in Mitchell’s body from the moment he left his place in the city, to the point when buildings and bustling pedestrians finally gave way to open roads, stalks of corn, and the occasional cow. There wasn’t much to look forward to when traveling to where he was going— the only thing that had been keeping him from turning around the entire time was the fact that he hadn’t seen his parents in…well, years. Sure, he kept in touch and occasionally called them and received calls from them for holidays or birthdays, but that was it. Mitchell had his life to live in the city and that was that! Kids grow up, they move out, move on, and create their own life. In this case, Mitchell wanted his life to be somewhere where the only “job” wasn’t to be a farmer or whatever— since high school, he had wanted to get out of the podunk town and set off on his own adventures…and he had! He had gotten out— something that most people from his high school DIDN’T do— and found himself in the city. But now Mitchell found himself back where he was born and, instead of feeling happy or nostalgic, he just felt nauseous from the distant smell of manure that still permeated the air inside of his car despite the windows being rolled all the way up. This definitely wasn’t the most ideal way to spend his summer break from University, but no matter his personal opinions of his childhood town, his parents needed him. After his father had a recent accident that resulted in him breaking something in his leg, his mom had been running the bed and breakfast on her own— however, while she was a strong and resilient woman, there were still some things that she couldn’t do on her own, and that was why Mitchell was making the several hour long drive into yeehaw-ville. What was the cherry on top was the fact that Mitchell wasn’t going to stay with his mother, oh no no no, instead she thought it was wise to go ahead and make plans for him to kick it with a stranger. Great. If this went according to every horror movie based in the country, he’d be dead within a week. And so, Mitchell drove on the long winding roads until the directions on his phone had him rolling up to a house he’d never been to before— or had he? He honestly couldn’t remember, all these farm houses looked the same to him— and parked once he made his way up the driveway. As soon as he had, Mitchell’s eyes immediately locked onto a man making his way up to his car…was this the guy we was going to be staying with? He huffed through his nose, took his keys out of the ignition, unbuckled his seatbelt, and exited the car, shamelessly looking the other guy up and down. Huh, not bad. “So…” He shut the car door and turned his head to look around at his surroundings before his gaze landed back on the man before him, “You’re who I’m staying with, right? J…something. James? Jack? J….oe?”

Once in a Full Moon (closed w/ @brainr0t-inc )

Jude had been getting his house prepped for guests since he offered up a spare room to an out of towner, making sure the sheets were clean and there were hangers in the closet in case his guest needed to hang anything up. He’d been close friends with his guest’s family for a while and had jumped at the chance to house him when he was told he’d be in town for a while to help with the family’s bed and breakfast. They’d been short on rooms as they’d converted their house into said bed and breakfast and wanted to keep the guest rooms open in case any renovations needed to be done and Jude did owe them a favor after all. He was excited to meet their son though, the way he talked about them, he figured he’d be a real fun guy to have around the house while his daughter was gone for summer camp. Not knowing when his guest would arrive, he went about his day as usual, now having just finished putting down new bedding for the horses as he saw a car pulling in the driveway. Jude wasn’t sure if the driver could see him, but he waved anyway m, quickly finishing up his work and jogging over to meet him. He’d worked up a bit of a sweat and his shirt seemed a little too tight for him. He waved to the man still in the car, excited to meet someone new and to just have someone he could talk to who would respond around the house. As much as he loved the horses and chickens, they weren’t wonderful conversationalists. He hadn’t spoken to another person all day and he was excited to get that opportunity. Jude hoped he could make his guest’s stay here memorable, that they could become friends and this new guy could help out around the house as needed. He could get a good look at the man now, a better look at least, through his front windshield, though with the sun beating down on them, there was a nasty glare, preventing him from getting a truly good look at the man just yet.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Germany(Doitsu)~Ludwig Beilschmidt

I think....I think war is about to start. This is the worst that could happen... When you're in your last highschool year,your dad is dead,your little sister just started school,you and your mum working,to keep the basic needs payed...winter being so harsh,needing more warm clothes,paying for school needs...I swear,I just want to kill myself and get this over with...but I know mum and sis will pay for my actions as well,so I keep my head high. They need me,just as much as I need them.We only have each other left in this cruel world. So,as I was exiting the highschool yard,I hear a sweet high-pitched voice calling for me. 

Lucy:S/O!!S/O!! me:*turning around*Huh?Lucy?!What are you doing here?! Lucy:I waited for you,silly!I didn't want to go home alone! me:*crouching at her level*You should have told me!You waited here for a whole hour?! Lucy:Yep! me:What if I wouldn't have heard you?Or...what if you wouldn't have seen me?You would have been lost! Lucy:Oh...I'm sorry...I didn't think about it... me:*hugging her**sighing*Please,before anything,let me what you want to do,so nothing bad will happen,okay sweetheart? Lucy:YES!! me:*putting her on my shoulders*Okay,let's go home,princess! Lucy:Onward,my trusty stallion!! 

I chuckled as I started walking back home,when I started noticing some blonde men,dressed in dark green uniforms,with guns attached on their backs. What the hell...? Is it..what I think it is...? Hope I'm wrong though...

Lucy:S/O!S/O!Can you put me down for a little,please? 

me:Umm...okay...*putting her down*But don't to anythi--HEY,WAIT! 

Then,he got off his cross necklace and put it around her neck,smiling slightly.

Lucy:Woaw!!It's sooo beautiful!!Thank you,Ludwig!!

He did a half-smile and shook his head in a dismissive way. 

Lucy:Bye bye,Ludwig!Hope we'll see you again tomorrow!! me:*small smile*Thank you and have a good day! 

He nodded,as we went back home. 

me:*chuckling*What was in your head,going to talk with that random person? Lucy:He was looking at you!And he looked good!He seems like a nice person,doesn't he? me:*blushing faintly*Yeah...I guess so... 

~~~~TIMESKIP~~~~~

I grabbed my guitar and went to play/sing outside. I'm trying to get some spare money,as Lucy's birthday is next weekend,and I still need some money to at least buy her a decent present...plus...Christmas is coming as well... 

"I'm waking up to ash and dust/I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust/I'm breathing in the chemical." 

Leaving the guitar case on the ground,I played the whole day and recieved about 30$. It's a huge thing for me,cause I have never gotten this much...Now...I have...about 300$.Guess I can finally buy her something for Christmas and her birthday...Finally... 

Okay...I guess tomorrow we buy the presents...Guess I made it just in time.In 3 days it's Christmas Eve. I put back the guitar in the case,strap it on my back and start strolling back home,trying to forget about the harsh cold winter wind that was whiping my tender,almost frozen skin.There is a price to pay,if you want to see the love on your loved ones' face. Okay now....hurry hurry...it's not really that much until I get home...I wonder if Ludwig was here... Oh what the hell is with me?! Hn...Okay now forget about it!It's not like we will ever meet again,unfortunately... I mean...he's a soldier...and there is going to be a war... Oh dammit..only the thought of a war...is...killer... Every horrible thing that is going to happen...I can feel it in the air...the tension...It's another World War...  Walking further on,burried in my own thoughts,I didn't realize where I was going,until I bumped into someone. 

me:Oh,I'm so sorry!I wasn't looking where I was walking... -?-:Nein,Eet ist okay... me:Eh?Ludwig? Ludwig:Ah,S/O...Nice to...see you...ummm... me:*smiling softly*Yeah,It's nice seeing you again.How are you? Ludwig:Ehm...Ich bin gut...patrolling the neighbourhood.... me:That's...umm..*looking around*There is going to be a war,won't it?And...My country...(c/n)...is...supposed to be an ally of Germany?Or...Are we already assaulted?*looking at him worried* 

Ludwig looked at me with that tough look on his face,but those icy blue eyes were sparkling with worry,concern and guilt. Ludwig:....Ja...It is going to be a war...a bad one...(c/n) is under German control and protection...You are supposed to be safe though... me:*nodding*Yes...I was assuming something like this...This are going to be very bad...Are you...going to go in the real battle?Please tell me you will stay here where it is...safer...right? Ludwig:*blushing slightly*Ich...don't know...I am...um...one of Germany's best soldier...I may be deployed in the main battles... me:I hope not...who...would protect this place then...?Not many people are as nice as you with...umm..."prisoners"...not even relatives are nice with each other sometimes... Ludwig:Ich vill be okay,don't vorry about me....und ich kan make shure jou vill be safe,zo don't vorry...*looking away* me:I'm not really worried about me as I am about you...after all,the only thing that could happen is...being bombed,random terrorists-which I doubt- or thievery...you on the other hand... Ludwig:*smiling softly*Ich vill be fine.Eef jou vant,Ich kould ask mein bruder to ztay mit jou.He ist nice. me:Oh,I didn't know you had a brother...I say you both stay here,where it's safe... Ludwig:*putting his jacket on my shoulder*Let mich valk jou home* me:Won't you be cold? Ludwig:*smiling*Ich is used to harsher vinters zhan zhis one. 

We started slowly walking home,as I was hugging his jacket closer to me,and subtly tried to hold his hand,but it just brushed past it,and I got embarrassed and looked away,blushing,just like he did. After some seconds,I felt my hand warm and I look down...he was holding my hand...our fingers interwined together and he was blushing,looking away. Holding with my other hand on the ends of the jacket,I giggle softly and held his hand tighter,enjoying the nice warm feeling that I was getting from this. Unfortunately,after some,we have arrived in front of my door... 

me:*blushing**smiling*So um...see you...tomorrow?Maybe? Ludwig:*blushing awkwardly**looking away*Ja...shure...Same place? me:At 2? Ludwig:*nodding*Zhat ist gut...ummm... 

He kept moving his glance from our holding hands,then away,then back to me,and away again,anxiously.Looking slightly confused at him,I hold his other hand soflty,trying to get his attention. 

me:Ludwig...?Are you okay? He slowly averted his eyes at me,and I saw he was blushing madly,which I found very adorable. 

me:Luddy..?You are so adorable when you blush..*giggle*Ginger! Ludwig:*Wide eyed*S-S/O!Don't zay zhat! 

I grinned as I cupped his face with my hands and got closer to him and he was looking at me wide eyed and embarrassed. Then,next thing I know,I feel his warm lips on mine,his hands holding mine,and I was engulfed in a very warm aura,as I felt butterflies and sparks among us. me:*blushing**looking down*T-that... Ludwig:Vas...*blushing worse* -?-:SO ADORABLE!!! 

I and Ludwig stared at each other in shock,then blushed madly and looked away from each other,as I saw my appartment's door open,and a clapping Lucy on staying on the frame,giggling. 

me:L-Lucy!?W-what are you doing here?!You are supposed to...be sleeping! Lucy:*pouting*Buuuuut!!It's not even late!!Me and mum were making you a birthday gift!!*gasp**slapping her tiny hands over her mouth*Oops...I shouldn't have said that... me:*smiling softly**ruffling her hair*Thank you,sweetheart.*putting my pointer finger at my lips*Shhh.It's our little secret,okay? Lucy:*giggling*Yaaay!!!Hey,Ludwig!Her birthday is (y/bday)!Don't forget that,for your own good!!Or else,you will have to face my anger!!*jumping on him*RAWR!!! 

As I was laughing,Ludwig caught her midair and chuckled at her childishness.Lucy on the other hand,was trying to bite his arm,but with no success. 

me:Okay,Lucy,that's enough,don't be a parasite! Lucy:I'm not a parasite!I'm a puppy!Woof!Woof!Hey Ludwig,do you like dogs?S/O loves dogs!She always wanted one,but we couldn't afford one!I want a puppy too!But I like tiny,playful and fluffy ones,unlike her!She likes BIG and STROOONG dogs!Shepards,German Shepards and...and...I DON'T KNOW DOGS!!*pouts*Oh WAIT! I WANT A DALMATIAN!! 101 OF THEM!! And I will name 2 of them Pongo and Perdita!! Oh,wait!Until then,YOU TWO CAN BE PONGO AND PERDITA!!Or....Or...LADY AND THE TRAMP!! 

She was talking with such enthusiasm,that I had to cover my mouth to stiffle my laughs.It was kinda embarrassing,but Ludwig's red face was really adorable! 

Lucy:Ludwig!Hey Ludwig!Can you buy us puppies on our birthday?!Heeeey....WHY IS YOUR FACE SO RED,GINGER??ARE YOU COLD?!*gasp*COME INSIDE!YOU WILL CATCH A COLD!! Ludwig:N-nein..Ich bin gut... Lucy:Huh?*cute confused puppy face* me:He said "No,I'm fine”...which it's obvious it's not true *chuckling* 

He is doomed.We started dragging him inside,in the slightly warm appartment. me:It's not much,but it's home.

Ludwig:Eet eez nice... Lucy:MUMMY!!MUMMY!!S/O’s BOYFRIEND IS HERE!! me:W-w-what?!*blushing madly* mum:*coming in*Oh,how wonderful!Young love~ me:M-mum....don't say that.. mum:Oh,I'm sorry,dear.What is your name,darling? Ludwig:Ich bin Ludvig...Eet eez..um...ein honour to meet jou,Mrs.(L/N) mum:Oh,you're so formal,don't be!There's no need to!Make yourself at home.Are you hungry?Or thirsty? Ludwig:Nein,danke..um...*phone ringing*Oh,eet eez mein bruder.Excuse mich please. 

He started talking to his brother and mum and Lucy came at me,with a knowing look. 

mum:Nice one.Got yourself a keeper*wink* Lucy:It's AAAAAALLLLLL thanks to ME! me:Mum...he didn't ask me out yet,okay?Chill,you guys... Lucy:But you KISSED! me:*facepalming*Lucy!Shut it!...You...*giggling*really embarrassed him a lot though...that was funny... Ludwig:Vell...mein bruder zaid Ich should go home. me:*nodding*Okay,let me get you to the door. 

We went outside,then we looked at each other and smiled. 

me:So,see you tomorrow? Ludwig:Ja...Good bye. me:*smiling*Bye! 

As I turned to go back inside,I felt Ludwig grab my wrist.

 me:Huh?What is it,Luddy? Ludwig:Ich...um...Do jou...vant to...um...be mein....girlfriend? me:*blushing slightly*Of course I do!*grinning* 

He smiled,then I got on my tippy toes and kissed him soflty,which shocked him,then winked at him and went back inside,waving at him,saying"Bye,Ginger!",seeing him still shocked,but with a happy glint in his eyes. Once inside,my sister and mum were looking at me with a smug-knowing face.I went past them,stopped midway to my room,then looked past my shoulder with a big smirk and said. 

me:Oh and,only I can call my boyfriend "Ginger",okay,kiddo?*wink* 

 ~December 24th~ 

This morning,my sister gave me the necklace Ludwig gave her,saying that "I'm the one that should have it" So of course now I'm wearing it all day. So!Right now I'm doing the Christmas shopping. Some sweets,some crisps,some snacks,some fruits,some toys,some clothes,parfume,accessories...all in all,I managed to fuck all the money I managed to get this year. But it's fine,at least it's for a good cause. Too bad they are very heavy though...for fuck's sake...

-?-:Hey,frau,vait a zekond! 

I looked back to see a soldier,with silvery-white short hair,ruby eyes and a small bird on his cap.He had the same necklace as Ludwig...could he mean..this is his brother?Or do all German soldiers wear that necklace as a part of their uniform? 

-?-:Hey,frau!Vhere'd jou get zhat necklace from? me:Ermh...someone gave me this....why? -?-:Are jou mein bruder's girlfriend? me:Ludwig,you mean?  -?-:Ja!Ich bin Gilbert,his avezome elder bruder!Kesesese!Lemme help you vith zhose,right,Gilbird? Girlbird:Tweet! I started laughing at the little bird and let Gilbert help me with the bags,and started walking home. Gilbert:Zo,S/O...how's mein little bruder? me:*confused*What...do you mean...? Gilbert:...Jou know.Eez he treating jou alright?Do jou love him...jou know,Ich bin ein worried bruder...Jou're zhe first perzon he haz ever loved...und he eez avkvard... me:*chuckling*Nooo he's good,he's good,don't worry.He's a sweetheart....*smirking*Ginger...that's his new nickname...*laughing* Gilbert:*smiling* Vhy? me:Because he's always blushing when I get close to him.and his face goes really red...so Ginger!! Gilbert:*Smirk*Kesesesese!!!Danke,frau!Now ich know vhat to kall him from now on!!! me:*shaking my head*But...he's an awesome person.Really nice,caring and kind...Say...Gilbert... Gilbert:*smiling*Vhat eez eet? me:Why...do you 2 have to go...in the main fight?I mean...what if you die!I don't want that to happen!Ludwig and you are the best things that happened in my life...I'd hate to lose you guys too... Gilbert:*hugging me*Zhis eez our duty...az much az ve hate eet...ve must...but ve vill have to go after mid January,zo don't vorry! me:Oh Gils...Why must there be war...wars are stupid...This has been going on for far to long!It's longer than the last WW2~! Gilbert:Ich know....Ich know...but ve kant change how zhings are... me:*sighs*True...you and Ludwig are just soldiers..and Im even less of an important person... Gilbert:....vell.....eet eez not quite the situation..Ich guess Ludvig didn't tell jou yet.. me:huh?Tell me what? Gilbert:...Eet eez not mein job to tell jou...ask him vhen jou zee him today or tomorrov....Eet eez quite ein important... me:....Gil...you kinda scare me now... Gilbert:Ahhh*awkward laugh*,neeeeiiiin!!Ich bin zorry!Ich din't mean eet like zhat!Eet eez really not zhat bad,jou just have to find out. me:Mhmhhhmm....fiiiineeeee....I'll just have to wait then... 

~~~~Timeskip~~~~In front of my house~~~~ 

me:Thanks a lot,Gils~.Means a lot to me-- Lucy:*opening the door*SANTA?!?!!? me:Oh no... Lucy:*jumping on him*MUM!!!MUM!!!SANTA REALLY CAME THIS TIME!!!I TOLD YOU!!! Mum:*coming out*What are you...-Oh S/O!And...you are...? Gilbert:Ich bin Zanta,ov kourze!Kesesesese!Und Gilbird eez mein kleine helper!! me:*whispering to her*Ludwig's older brother. 

I quickly ran in the house with all the bags,and put them under the little tree,got the Santa hat and put it on Gil's head.Perfect Santa... Lucy:LET'S OPEN THE GIFTS!! me:W-wait a second,Lucy!Shouldn't we be all here? Lucy:What do you..---OH!!!YES!!HOW COULD I FORGET GINGER?!GO CALL HIM NOW!! me:*rolling my eyes*Oh,sheesh,kid....

I tell them to go inside and wait for me 5 minutes,and I call Ludwig~ me:Hey,Luddy~How are you? Lud:Hallo,liebling.Ermh...vell...Ich vas actually...koming to zee jou.... me:That's perfect!I actually called you so you'd come at mine!Tonight's Christmas and all~ Lud:*chuckle*Zuch ein coincidence~ me:I think not!!!hahaha!!! 

As I saw him,I hanged up and jumped on him,hugging him tightly,as he held me in his warm embrace,kissing me. 

me:Gingeeeer~!!You're so adorable!!! Lud:*looking in the other direction*Don't kall mich zhat.... me:*taking his hand*Come on!Santa came*wink* Lud:Zanta...? me:Gilbert.We met when I was struggling to carry the bags home,so when we arrived in front of my door,Lucy the Troublemaker came out and yelled "SANTA!!!" and jumped on him.Poor guy....I pity your brother*laughing* Lud:*chuckling**shaking his head*Gilbert.... me:Oh that's right.He said you wanted to tell me something very important about you and him.So?What is it? Lud:*looking away*.....vell....eet eez kind ov delikate und...vell...ich underztand eef jou won't vant to be around mich anymore und... me:*cupping his face*Luddy...you scare me...just tell me what it is.Come on,I promise I will never leave you alone,no matter what. Lud:*sigh**looking down*.....Ich bin......ein.....kountry.....Ich bin Germany (DOITSU!!!!) me:Huh?What do you mean? Lud:Ich know.....Ich know eet zoundz zo veird und unbelievable...but...eet eez true...Ich bin Deutschland...Und Gilbert eez Preussen...und zhat eez vhy ve have to go und fight een zhe main battles.Bekause ve kant die me:You....really mean it...? Lud:....Ja...Und...ich underztand eef-- 

I hugged him really tightly,surprising him. 

me:Luddy,I love you,okay?I don't care what or who you are.I love YOU!okay?Du bist mein liebe und mein hertz!Und ich liebe dich fur immer jetzt!Okay?Never forget that! Lud:S/O... me:Shut it,Ginger!We have some gifts to open!We left Santa deal with the little parasite for far too long.*wink* 

I dragged the still shocked Ludwig inside the house,so when she saw him,Lucy jumped on Ludwig too yelling "GINGER!!!" 

Lud:Not you too... Gilbert:But Vest,zhat nickname zuitz jou perfektly!Kesesesese! me:See!Everybody likes your nickname~! Lud:Vhatever... Lucy:DOWN!NOW!!WE HAVE GIFTS!!! me:Pfffff kiddo.Fine,you share the gifts.Go on,then! Lucy:Woo!!!So many!!!I've been good,right Santa?! Gil:Ja!Jou have been ein very guy kid! Lucy:This one is for....mummy!! mum:*shocked*me?! Lucy:Yes!Here!It's written M-U-M-M-Y!!Thats Mummy!!You! mum:*glancing at me*So;what did I get then?*smiling* me:*smiling*I don’t know,mum.Shred the wrapping and look in the box.It's yours after all. Lucy:Yes!!Sis is right! 

Mum took the gift,undid the wrapping carefully and neatly,earning a bored sigh from Luce,and opened the box.Inside there was a new casual,dark green dress.Her favourite colour.On her birthday,I bought her a pair of black shoes and a dark-green jewelry set. Not very expensive but just her style.Elegant. She was stunned-again.I knew she loved it,which made me smile even more. Seeing her smile is what brings my happiness again.Hers and Lucy's. 

Mum:*smiling**glancing at me*Thank you,Santa... 

I nodded in her direction,then Lucy humfed and got another gift. Lucy:Not again!This isnt mine!Hmpf!....Oh!Ginger!!This is yours!!To think Santa knew you would be here with us!!!Here!!Open it!! 

Luddy grabbed the box gingerly(pffff no pun intended at all) and opened it.Inside,there was a dark green scarf and a silver necklace with a dog and a (fave/animal) on it.He blushed and looked at me,then in the opposite direction.This made me smile and look down blushing,while mum was giggling,Lucy was confused and Gilbert was laughing at us. me:Oh,will you 2 just shut up?!Continue with the presents!  Lucy:But Ginger has to thank Santa first!  Lud:*glancing at me**eye twitching at "Ginger"*Danke....Zanta...*facepalm*  Gilbert:Kesesesese!!Du bist wilkommen!  Lucy:Okay okay!Enough!Next one is...OH MY GOD!!IT'S FINALLY MINE!!!*shredding it**gasp*It's GORGEOUS!!! 

She got a pink princess dress,like Rapunzel's,a tiara and a pair of golden flats.In the other box she got a pair of pink mittens,a white beanie and a purple scarf. She was so happy,she was screaming and crying around the house,then jumped on Gilbert yelling "Thank you" a thousand times. me:What are you waiting for,silly?!Go try it on!! The moment she ran in her room,I started tearing up of happiness.I'm really happy that she's happy. 

Gilbert:*smiling at me*Nice job,frau. mum:*hugging me*I will never be able to repay you for everything...it should have be- me:Mum..do me a favour...and shut up.*hugging her*Enjoy the dress,and on my birthday,I will take you out*wink**wiping her tears*We are here for each other.Only one of us,alone,can't do much,but together...you saw the happiness in her eyes,so we will be okay*smile* Mum:Thank you so much...Santa...*wink* me:Good!*clapping hands together*Now,if you don't mind....I'm hungry...so... Mum:Sandwiches it is!*going in the kitchen* Lud:*hugging me*Danke,liebling...Danke...jou didn't ha- me:Oh,shut it,okay?...Mh...hey Gils... Gilbert:Ja? me:I'm sorry...  Gilbert:Huh?What for? me:.....I didn't get you a gift.... Gilbert:*laughing*Don't vorry,frau!....Zhe fact zhat jou make Vest happy eez zhe best gift ever!  Lud:Um...S/O... me:Hm? Lud:Komm here ein bit. me:*going in front of him*What is it? Lud:*hugging me tightly*Ich liebe dich...zo much...bitte...never leave mich... me:Luddy....Of course I won't... 

I put my hand on his head,stroking his hair softly,then I kissed him softly. me:I love you too much to let go... 

Lud:Zhen...*standing on his knee*Vill you promise to marry mich,vhen zhe var eez over? me:....Yes...Yes!Yes!!Yes I will! 

He was smiling brightly at me and picked me up from my waist,me hugging his neck,he twirled me around and then kissed me lovingly and passionately. We both had tears in our eyes,from happiness,then I heard clapping before us,and we saw Gilbert clapping and Gilbird tweeting. 

Gilbert:Kesesesese!!!Zhis vas zooo avezome!!!Now ich have ein little schwester!S/O Beilschmidt! 

I was blushing faintly,but laughing heartly,'til I heard mum coming in the room with the sandwich tray. Mum:What was with all the laughing and cheering? me:Well,basically- Gilbert:S/O AND LUDWIG ARE GETTING MARRIED!! me:Pretty much. mum:Okay.*putting the tray in Gilbert's hand*OH MY GOD THIS IS AMAZING!!*hugging me and Lud tightly**mother rantings* me:Ooookaaaayyy...Caaalm down now,mum! mum:*crying*BUT THIS IS AWESOME NEWS!! me:Yeah...I know...but you're going to wake up the dead,with your yelling. mum:Okay.Okay.I'm good now.but still....OMG!! me:MUM! mum:*smiling innocently*Okay fine. Lucy:*running*STOP LAUGHING AND YELLING WITHOUT ME!! mum:Lucy,it's not nice to yell. me:*snort*look who's talking...  Mum nudged me,giggling. Lucy:I demand you tell me what is going on RIGHT NOW!! me:Ginger and Santa are going to be our new relatives. Lucy:Huh?!HOW?! me:Ginger and I are getting married. Lucy:WHAT?! me:*groan*how many times do I have to repeat the same thing to only 2 PERSONS?! Mum:*chuckling*S/O and Ludwig are gettin married.You can be a princess at their wedding! Lucy:No I can't! mum:Why? Lucy:Because sis gets to be the princess at her wedding! me:*giggling*That was so adorable!! Lucy:Thank you.Thank you.But do you know what's even better?! me:Amaze me. 

She pointed above my head and I saw...mistletoe...Ludwig blushed and I was like "Oh fuck it" and I cupped his face,kissing him once again,leaving him dazed again. We started laughing at his red,shocked face,which became quite a habit,and I started thanking dad for watching over us all this time.

[detective-prince-bluebottle]

tagged by @agatharja

first rule: tag 9 people you want to get to know better! You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to! :)

... my anxiety won’t let me tag anyone because i’m afraid i’d be bothering them

second rule: Bold statements that are true

- I am 5'7 or taller (i fucking wiiiiiiiiiiiiiish)

- I wear glasses (i’m meant to but i don’t because they get dirty and that bothers me)

-I have at least one tattoo

- I have at least one piercing (6 distributed around my ears and 1 nose)

- I have blonde hair

- I have brown eyes

- I have short hair (hells yeah boi)

- My abs are at least somewhat defined (bitch i wish, fuck off)

- I have or had braces

PERSONALITY:

- I love meeting new people

- People tell me I am funny (ppl tell me nothing. also i never speak out loud)

- Helping others with their problems is a big priority of mine (i mean i’d like to but i have no idea what to say)

- I enjoy physical challenges

- I enjoy mental challenges

- I am playfully rude to people I know (i mean kinda sometimes? idk)

- I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it 

- There is something I would change about my personality (everything i would love to not be a bland robot)

ABILITY:

- I can sing well

- I can play an instrument (i can sort of play ukulele and guitar. and ocarina i guess lol. i also took recorder lessons when i was in primary school. now that was a bad time)

- I can do over 30 pushups without stopping (lol no)

- I am a fast runner (actually i can sprint really fast but for only like 10 seconds)

- I can draw well

- I have a good memory (HAHAHAHAHA NO)

- I am good at doing math in my head

- I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute (i used to when i was like a teen but my asthma and stuff has gotten real bad since then)

- I have beaten at least 2 people arm wrestling (idk probably i mean see aforementioned unbolded good memory i can’t even remember two days ago at all i must have beaten 2 people at arm wrestling. i mean i know i’ve wrestled the arm)

- I can make at least 3 recipes from scratch

- I know how to throw a proper punch (well i mean i can do a karate punch. you start with your fist closed and facing up, held next to like your hip and your elbow’s like pointed back, and then you thrust forward and up a bit and twist your fist down inwards, so you end up with it at chest level. idk)

HOBBIES:

- I enjoy sports (i feel like eventually i will end up watching something like women’s soccer or women’s basketball, because i am a pathetic virginal gay that can’t talk to and is unattractive to girls)

- I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else (i tried out for soccer twice. since i’m a fatass they didn’t go well)

- I’m in a orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else (i was in primary school i have no idea why i think it’s cuz my grandma wanted me to be? but it wasn’t all bad i mean one time we went to like a choir competition and the conductor called me a boy so that was neat as fuck. man i got called a boy a lot when i was a kid it was fucking heaven compared to now, assholes calling me ma’am and shit man get fuckt)

- I have learned a new song in the past week (what does this mean? like to play on an instrument? bitch i can’t even concentrate long enough to learn Honeybee by Steam Powered Giraffe i just get discouraged and shit)

- I exercise at least once a week (listen i intend to rectify this and go swimming every day, now that i finally realised like last year that i actually have fucking dysphoria and that’s why i hated wearing swimsuits (aside from because i’m fat as shit and disgusting to witness in a fucking onepiece like what the fuck were my parents fucking thinking making me wear shit like that when i’m obese as sin) i’m gonna get board shorts and a rashguard and wear one of my less liked binders and it’ll be so fucking good)

- I have gone for runs at least once a week in warmer months (fuck off i’m not leaving my house in fucking summer it’s fucking 40°)

- I have drawn something in the past month

- I enjoy writing (man i haven’t properly written in like 7 years because idk depression but i still write stories in my head when i’m going to sleep at night and showering and whatever)

- Fandoms are my #1 priority

- I do some form of Martial arts (i used to do karate when i was uhhh 14?)

EXPERIENCES:

- I have had my first kiss (hahahahaha *sob* i fucking wish)

- I have had alcohol (yeah man i love jagerbombs and blue lagoons, defuckinglicious)

- I have scored a winning point in a sport (fuck sports)

- I have watched an entire TV series in one sitting (okay wait does this count for like rewatches? because when i saw my first anime i was obsessed with watching it - martian successor nadesico btw - for the entire day and that’s all i did, i sat in bed and watched it all morning to night)

- I have been at an overnight event (i meannnn when i went to see the last jedi slash meet some of my friends from my guild irl for the first time i stayed over at their house on the sofa and left the next morning does that count)

- I have been in a taxi (yeah it was only recently actually, our car fucking died and we had to take some convoluted fucking public transport out of our place from middle-of-dead-ass-fucking-nowhere-ville (needless to say i hate the suburb i live in. and country) to somewhere where we could get a taxi to a car rental place. or was it a dealership? i can’t fucking remember man do you see this shitty memory in action?? it was only like 2 years ago fuck me)

- I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year (well i was IN a hospital but that’s because i was going to a dental clinic in the building)

- I have beaten a video game in one day (what game can you beat in a day man???)

- I have visited another country (i haven’t got enough fucking money lad)

- I have been to one of my favorite bands’ concerts (listen fuck you i’m totally counting livestreamed concerts, i’ve seen all of Steam Powered Giraffe’s youtube concerts and the one recorded in 2013 and you bet your ass i’m gonna pay $20 for the right to see the film of the anniversary concert)

MY LIFE:

- I have one person that I consider to be my Best Friend (i kinda consider my friend bunny my best friend but i doubt he considers me his bestie)

- I live close to my school/work (HAHAHA GET REKT I TAKE MY UNI COURSES ONLINE AHAHAHA)

- My parents are still together

- I have at least one sibling (i mean technically i have 3 but i’ve never met them. at least i don’t think i have. they can get lost far as i’m concerned)

- I live in the United States (i wouldn’t live there if you paid me. maybe if obama were still president you could’ve got me to live there if you gave me like 5 million dollars, but now i would actually rather die)

- There is snow where I live right now (god i would fucking kill for some snow)

- I have hung out with a friend in the past month (yooo i was boutta unbold this because i have no fuckin friends except my online pals but then i remembered going to meet two of my friends from online and seeing star wars with them!! holy shit i feel validated and less lonely)

- I have a smartphone (samsung galaxy s6 BOI i am so fucking angry i was gonna hold out for the s7 cuz 7 is my second favourite fucking number (first is 14 but i wasn’t gonna wait a decade for that or w/e) anyway i finally decided to just get the s6 and the fucker asshole 7 is announced like a month later aaaaaarhghdks)

- I own at least 15 CDs (i have a whole fuck ton of videogames and they’re on CDs get owned HAHA FOILED but i also have probably about 15 CDs of music if i’m gonna count the stuff my family has)

- I share my room with someone (man my room isn’t even big enough for me how you gonna fit a whole nother person in that cupboard)

RELATIONSHIPS:

- I am in a Relationship (*cries uncontrollably*)

- I have a crush on a celebrity (well i mean i wouldn’t say no to like scarlett johansson if she told me she wanted to rail me. or gal gadot. or kate beckinsale. or kristen stewart. or - okay this is probably a massive list of ladies i want to rawdog me)

- I have a crush on someone I know (i’m slightly in love with all of my female friends because they show me kindness)

- I’ve been in at least 3 relationships (alright fucking buckle up kids: i don’t count online relationships because i’m a bitter person but when i was like 10 i was in a ‘relationship’ on runescape with a boy the same age at me and i legitimately think it was actually a kid like me and not a predator because all we did was stand next to each other and talk about cows or something and make the avatars kiss (we both had male avatars because i was obviously subconsciously aware of my gender identity at that stage). when i was like 13/14 i met a girl at a camp during the school holidays (i went to camp almost every holiday) and we chatted over msn after camp ended and tbh i think she forgot who i was because she suddenly said she liked me one day so i decided i liked her too and we started to ‘date’. lasted like 2 weeks? idk but she broke it off cuz i was inattentive (i can’t remember but i guess i could’ve been i’m not a very social person believe it or not *snicker*) anyway i saw her at the next two camps and it was hella fucking awkward the first time because i wanted to be friends with her but her other friends intimidated me so i just hovered around her creepily and she got angry at me and i got sad, but the 2nd time was a lot better i think, i was extremely distressed when i saw her at the bus station for the camp transport and i sulked the entire ride, but when we all got there i accidentally fell into her friend group (i actually think it’s because the other girls were really nice and they’d seen me sulking and wanted to cheer me up, man kinda fucked up huh) i pretty much ignored her the whole time and after camp ended she contacted me on msn for some reason and idk she like asked me how i’d felt when i saw her at camp and i was honest and told her i’d been pretty upset and then she got pissed at me and never spoke to me again. wow such drama huh? oh and my 3rd ‘relationship’ was when i was uhh 16/17-ish with this girl i met on some naruto fansite. i don’t even like naruto, and i actually remember absolutely nothing about my interactions with her. like at all. i don’t remember how we met or who dumped who or whatever bullshit. i’m not sure why this is i mean maybe it’s because this was at the same time i had a massive fucking obsessive infatuation with a girl at my school and well it didn’t turn out so hot and i think i’ve blocked out a lot of shit. anyway i hope you all enjoyed that wall of text haha of course you fucking didn’t. well tough titties me lad)

- I have never been in a relationship (*cries*)

- I have admitted my feelings to a crush (fuck no holy shit)

- I get crushes easily (yeah well if any female is nice to me i’m a goner. also one time during high school i started getting crushes on all the girls in my extended english class like i think it was a new girl each week. it was a tiny class there was only like 8 of us, no stinky boys (even if i’d realised i was trans at the time, i’m not stinky :P))

- I have had a crush for over a year (it was not fun)

- I have been in a relationship for over a year

- I have had feelings for a friend (do semi acquaintances count. or ‘girls that tolerated me enough to let me sit with them at lunch’)

RANDOM:

- I have break-danced

- I know a person named Jamie

- I have had a teacher that has a name that is hard to pronounce (listen i don’t fucking remember. but i’m good at pronunciations and shit anyway)

- I have dyed my hair (it was really short and blonde i kinda looked like a skinhead)

- I’m listening to a song on repeat right now (tongue tied from red dwarf)

- I have punched someone in the past week

- I know someone who has gone to jail

- I have broken a bone (broke my ankle in primary school because i’m fat and dumb and tried to slide along the grass into the safezone during tag or whatever, also i broke my wrist when i was 18 because i’m fat and dumb and i was learning how to drive a scooter but i went around a corner too slow or idk unbalanced or some shit, i think i broke the mirror on it but fuck that infernal machine i had to get fucking surgery and get pins in my wrist. when i got them out it was actually the closest i’ve ever come to fainting like the doctor dude was straining hard to pull these ones on the side out and when they finally popped out and a ton of blood gushed out i like deflated and teetered in my seat a bit it was an experience)

- I have eaten a waffle today (never had a waffle)

- I know what I want to do in life (well idk about an actual career but i want to write a book and get it published and make tons of bank)

- I speak at least two languages (i took japanese for 6 years don’t fucking tell me that doesn’t count just because i can’t carry a conversation in the language. also i took a class on latin for a semester it was dope af)

- I have made a new friend in the past year