#and we're working on passports and shit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cloudytardigrade · 2 months ago

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fav things from the new longform (now one of my favourites)

•Luke being so confused in the beginning and then the "ohhh"

•The echoing mic was iconic

•Mrs Claus's sass

•Luke saying "What the fuck is Snowdrop??"

•"I have loved you since 0 AD"

•"I was a wise man" "I was dressed as a sheep"

•"You can call me a giant elf if you want but I don't give a shit, do y'know that?"

•The awkwardness of Snowdrop having to watch Mr and Mrs Claus argue

•"Barbados is on the naughty list. All of it"

•Also Krampus IS one of the best SFTH characters.

•The relationship between Santa and Snowdrop. THE PROTECTIVENESS <33

•"You just gonna keep being an asshole to me?.."

•The eyebrow raise from Snowdrop when Santa says "You slept with Javier!"

•The casual "See ya later" from Mrs Claus after having an argument that will probably end their relationship

•TOM PLAYING VILLAINS HOLY MOTHER FUCKING SHIT.

•"Breakfast, lunch and dinner: Santa's smiles"

•"September, October, yeah I'll do it, then November comes and it's like "fucking hell!!"

•Javier??? Xavier's long lost twin??

•I WILL be making fanart of the characters, specifically Krampus and Snowdrop bc they're my favs

•The hold back of laughter from Luke when Santa says "we recently found out this year that all elves have ADHD"

•"About time, Luke-I mean, Snowdrop"

•Sam singing 😭

•The little hand movements Luke does after Santa accidentalky says "Luke" instead of Snowdrop

•Krampus talking in third person

•The way Krampus and Little Krampus get around

•"You have DHHA" "Damn Hot Attention Awareness"

•The hair caress that Krampus gives Little Krampus, which shows their love

•Krampus holding his leg whilst moving

•"Welcome to the North Pole airport"

•Luke literally throwing his head back with laughter in the sidelines

•Mrs Claus not knowing how passports work

•The banter on how passports work

•I love how happy and enthusiastic Tom seems

•"Oh, bribery!" "That's also a crime!"

•The poses for the photo booth

•Poor Snowdrop :(

•"That's Krampus! The most wanted terror!st in the North Pole"

•Tom's out-loud commentary, and Luke just nodding

•"Where's our bowl full of jelly laughs? This is SHIT"

•"Barbados.. Let me check the map *pulls out map* There"

•Snowdrop's smirk when one of the elves says "We're not allowed passports" and then "There's a photo booth"

•"I'll climb up on your shoulders" "Oh really?" "Yeah" "Okay"

•The name's if the characters on the presents in at the start is really cute (damn they really know the fanbase huh)

•"I have an alternative proposal" "I'd probably prefer mine, to be honest 😏"

•"Oh, actually, fuck yeah, that's great"

•"Rudolph motherfuckerrr"

•"The teddy bears are getting married" dude. how can he say something as pure and wholesome as that and NOT expect me to combust

•Forgetting the reindeers names and an audience member helping them out

•"I was expecting a sexy lady with a big beard"

•Javier turning the elves head to look at him

•"Christmas is ruined, there's no laughter for us to eat"

•"Ho ho ho is gleeful laughter"

•Everyone subtly making fun of Mrs Claus saying "I was caught on a cloud"

•"You're his muse. His inspiration" ☹️☹️

•"Hey, let's not blame someone with a disorder, shall we?"

•"Sometimes, the hyper focus is really useful for making toys. One day, I made a thousand game boys. They said to try and make something else, I said "fuck that!""

•Krampus's song

•"Krampus grows more powerful!!"

•"Little Krampus has a gun now!! Ho ho ho.. 😈😈😈"

•The deep "I'm everywhere"

•"No no no no no"

•"Poor little teddy bear Christmas man!"

•"Ahhh.. A Christmas gun..."

•"One present from every child.. goes to Krampus's tum tum!"

•WHY ARE THEY SOME THE MOST GORGEOUS AMAZING PEOPLE EVER TO EXIST EVER??? LIKE THEY ALWAYS LOOK GOOD.

•"I feast on the tears of the children!!"

•"Find the joy... Santa"

•Definitely wasn't hoping for a kiss scene or something...

•"You are nothing little lady girl.. I'm a sex!st as well"

•"Your wife is my wife now"

•"Hehehehehe"

•"Look at my little piss boy"

•When they all start singing "All I Want For Christmas Is You" very slowly and eerily

•"What is this song? This wasn't around when I was put beneath the ice"

•Most beautiful men ever ngl

•"AVADA KEDAVRA!!"

(So basically the entire play)

#shootimpro #sfth sam #sfth luke #sfth tom #sfth aj

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words-4u · 2 years ago

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right person (1/3)

pairings: luca x reader, marcus x reader (platonic)

wc: 1.4k

a/n: immediately started planning a three part series on luca while watching the bear s2. that's what a tatted will poulter does to me (the bear is an incredible show btw pls watch if you don't)

warning: swearing

part 2 / part 3

"denmark?"

"yes! we are sending you and marcus to denmark for two weeks to stage at this really great restaurant. you're gonna learn to do three new desserts for us. carmy knows the head pastry chef. says he's really cool so it should be fun, right?" sydney explained.

"that does sound fun! i'm in!" you smile.

you look at marcus who was deep in thought. if you had to guess what he was thinking, his mind is probably on his mom who was currently bed ridden at a hospital.

you put a hand on marcus' shoulder. "you good with that?" you ask your co pastry chef.

he broke out of his thoughts and nods. "yeah, i-i'm great. i'd love to."

"great! cause you guys really didn't have a choice. your flights are already booked for tomorrow afternoon sooo thanks!" sydney offers two thumbs and an awkward smile before she leaves what used to be the kitchen.

"holy shit," you whisper in shock. "staging at a michelin star restaurant in a country i've always wanted to visit. could this be any better?"

"i have to go tell my mom but give me a call if you need a ride to the airport tomorrow. chester will probably take me and we can swing by your place if you want?"

"dude, yes! that'd save me a shit ton of money that i would've spent on uber."

"cool, see you," marcus grabs his bag and heads out the door.

after helping fak, riche and gary with fallen ceiling debris, you decide to leave a bit early to pack and clean your apartment before your travel.

it was noon on the dot the next day when marcus calls to check if you were ready for the airport. since you packed the night before, you had a rather peaceful morning. chester talks your ear off the whole way to the airport and you guys get there he demands to see your passports because he wants to make sure you and marcus actually had it on you.

"chester, can you do me a favour and check in on my ma when you get the time?" marcus asks.

"dude, i'm way ahead of you. gonna check on her every morning on my way to work,"

"i appreciate it."

chester looks at both you. "now, i want you take a deep breath and let the good in. you guys are gonna kill it."

you grin at marcus' friend. "thanks chester. okay we're gonna have to leave now before we miss our flight."

marcus says his farewell to his best friend and the two of you head to your gate.

the plane ride to copenhagen was smooth despite marcus' worries. you guys hop on a train to explore the city before heading to where you were staying.

"trains here are way cleaner than the ones in chicago," marcus leans over to whisper.

"waay cleaner," you agree.

the two of you exited the station and stood in awe of your view. clear blue skies. cool fresh air. colourful buildings. and the smell of hotdogs which was incredibly appealing after your long journey.

you and marcus lock eyes. "oh yeah."

marcus got a hotdog with dried onions and pickles on top while you had a plain jane moment with just ketchup.

"this is the best thing i've ever put in my mouth," you say with in between bites.

"just what i needed honestly," marcus says.

after your quick meal, the two of you continue to wander the city taking in the architecture most of all.

marcus was using the maps feature on his phone to find the place you were supposed to be staying at.

"uh i don't see any apartment buildings near," you say. "are you sure we are in the right place?"

marcus led you to a canal where some boats were docked. "i am 99.9% sure. you're staying in 286 and i'm in 287."

you glance at the boat in front of you and saw the gold numbers plaque on the side. "well, mystery solved. this is your place and i'm guessing this one is mine." you moved further down to the boat behind marcus' one.

"sick," he smiles.

"i'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"night, y/n!"

you walk down a couple of steps before unlocking a door that lead to a kitchen and dining room. it was spacious and you were grateful for the many windows it had. the stairs to the left led up to the bedroom which was a lot smaller than you anticipated having only space for your bed and a small cabinet for clothes.

you flop on your bed and exhaled. you didn't realize how tired you were until your head hit the soft mattress and while everything in you wanted to knock out, you knew you had to get up and unpack because you wouldn't have time tomorrow.

one thing you were not was a morning person and yes you should have gotten used to it by now working in the restaurant industry but getting up at 4 a.m. will never feel natural. regardless, you had a twinge of excitement for your new job and excited to learn under this new chef that carmy spoke so highly of.

once you got ready for the day, you hear three soft knocks.

"morning," you say. "you ready?"

"born ready," marcus says as you lock your door and head to the restaurant.

it was only a 15 minute walk from where you were staying so the two of you arrive with time to spare.

you walk into the bright kitchen and suck in a breath. the kitchen was stunning with it's high-end equipment, gorgeous green tiling and the young hot chef moving bags of flour from one table to another.

"chef. i'm marcus brooks and this is y/n y/l/n," marcus begins. "and we're from-"

the chef looks up for a quick second. "i know. i'm luca, pastry. we start at 5 a.m. your section's at the end of the bench."

the english accent takes you by surprise. your knees could have buckled right then and there.

"yes, chef," the two of you say in unison.

now your excitement turned into nervousness. not only were you to create three star-worthy desserts for the bear, you had to learn from someone who is so extremely good looking it hurts.

marcus and you head to the back to change into your uniforms which was a basic indigo t-shirt and a green apron like luca had.

when you went back out, you immediately wash your hands and got ready for whatever luca had in store for you guys.

luca had marcus rollout croissant pastry while he led you to a table where he had prepared a dessert. your task was to place pieces of peanuts at a certain angle as part of its presentation.

you study luca as he shows you what to do. he had small black tattoos scattered up and down his arms. that alone is having an effect on you.

"here, you try," he says passing the tweezers to you.

your fingers brush as you took the small tool from him. luca didn't make eye contact but you did notice his jaw clench.

"nuzzle that sliver into the pudding just to lock it in."

"yes, chef," you say.

taking one of the small nuts from the bowl, you place it on the pudding but it slipped last second.

"no. again, chef," he says in a calm yet assertive tone.

"sorry," you say and try again and it's worse which luca picks up on.

"hm, worse."

he takes the tweezers from you and picks up the piece. "don't be afraid to just stick it in there, you know," luca takes the nut and slides it in perfectly. "just be confident about it."

"don't second-guess yourself," he says finally locking eyes with you.

you nod. "yes, chef."

you took the tweezers back and third time was the charm because you placed the nut in the pudding just like he'd showed you. smiling to yourself, you put the tool down.

luca's face stays expressionless. he looks up from the dessert. "you know how to make shiso gelee?"

you absolutely do not know how to make whatever he just said but there was no way you were gonna let him know that.

"yes, chef."

"alright."

luca steps away to grab some ingredients which gives you the opportunity to whip your phone out and google the gelee. "dextrose? what the fuck is that?" you whisper to yourself.

luca came back and places a tray in front you. "recipe," he says tapping some blue index cards.

you felt your face burn. "thank you, chef."

end of part 1 omggg. not much luca x reader but it’s warming up trust me. i already have ideas for part 2 and 3 with some potential alternate endings... stay tuned

if you enjoyed, please let me know (through my bio) if you have any the bear requests, send them my way!

#the bear #the bear season 2 #luca #the bear luca #will poulter #will poulter x reader #will poulter imagine #the bear imagine #the bear fanfic #the bear fx #the bear sydney #sydney adamu #luca x reader

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namistrella · 25 days ago

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Please pay close attention to the language used to talk about public service workers and civil servants in the coming days.

There is (understandably) a lot of anger and frustration felt by people who have been left behind, ignored, and swept aside by bureaucratic processes limiting access to benefits and aid. SSA has notoriously denied most first disability benefits applications, FEMA has left people without housing after disasters for far too long, there's red tape everywhere and it's harmful first and foremost to people without the time and resources (money, health) to navigate the systems. This is all true.

BUT. (And this is the important part of this post.) The new administration is, purposely, leveraging those feelings to get public support for gutting those systems and programs from the inside out. The truth is that we need these programs, and we need the everyday people who work to deliver them. We can't afford to vilify them.

Pay attention to the language in the new executive orders, such as:

"Return to Work" (as if everyday public servants have not been breaking their backs trying to get passports processed, job offers sent, and critical grants awarded, whether or not they do some of that work from home or in a too-small, poorly maintained office)

"Improving Accountability" (as if agency heads are all corrupt or something, rather than just being people who the new administration is afraid will choose to be accountable to their conscience rather than accountable to King Trump)

Yeah, yeah, every office will have some bad managers, some underperforming employees, and bad agency leadership once in a while. This is NORMAL. Literally look at ANY office, private sector or public sector or academia or whatever. Rank and file government employees are not inherently evil, or lazy, or entitled, any more than the rest of the workforce.

And in fact, government employee pay has fallen far behind inflation while the benefits have been slowly stripped away over the last decade or two (pensions cost more and pay less; healthcare options are expensive and don't cover as much as some other private plans; annual raises are a joke and barely even cover the rise in insurance premiums let alone housing).

By and large, the people working in those day to day public service positions care about the mission of their agency, and helping people, because you kind of have to at some level in order to sacrifice higher pay for literally the same work. The ONE concrete advantage of a government job over industry is the stability... But the Trump administration is fighting tooth and nail to get rid of that so they can fire large swathes of the workforce and shut down public service programs.

If they can't fire everyone, they'll start by getting as many as they possibly can to quit.

Stoking public anger at civil servants is one of the tactics they are using to put the pressure on and get people to leave. Many federal workers are already scared to talk about where they work because of fear of harassment. Republican leaders encourage this shit. Why would anyone want to stay in a job they're underpaid, underappreciated, and now being publicly vilified for? A few might, for the mission; others will decide their safety is more important, or that they can't sacrifice any more.

You might think, why do we care if a few gov employees quit when there's so many of them? Well, most government programs are ALREADY severely understaffed. We're ALREADY going to have an even harder time accessing services and programs when people inevitably quit and program funding gets shut down.

We need these workers to stay. We need them to be there busting their asses over the next months to get important things processed before the option is taken away. We need them to stand up to Trump's political cronies and hold the line and drag their feet when told to implement harmful policies. We need them to buy us time to vote in 2026 and save some of the programs that serve our most vulnerable populations. No, the programs aren't perfect, but that doesn't justify sitting back and letting Trump completely gut them!

Take some time to thank a public servant in the next weeks. We need them more than most of us realize, and we can't afford to let Trump's propaganda make us blame the people standing between his policies, and us.

#politics #I'm just really pissed off about the phrase Return To Work today #like dude #these people are busting ass #see that other post going around about the people working overtime to process trans people's passports and mail them before 1/20 #thank your public servants guys #they're having a rough time #US politics

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lizardperson · 1 month ago

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any way the wind blows

[on ao3]

fandom: original work rating: g wc: 638 prompt: #fff286 anything could happen for @flashfictionfridayofficial

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Mika stopped drumming along to the music and eyed July, who was fidgeting around with the zipper of her jacket.

"Dude, why are you so nervous?"

"Because I'm always nervous on trips!"

"We're just going to Toronto?! We'll be back home in two days?" Mika chuckled, not understanding what the big deal was. She and Aaron had rather spontaneously decided to go on a little weekend trip to see a band they liked, and had talked July into joining them.

July gnawed on her lower lip. "So what? There's still a ton of things that can go wrong on trips. Anything could happen."

"Like what?"

"Maybe I forgot something. My toothbrush."

"I know Canada is a mythical place, but they still have like supermarkets and stuff there," Aaron objected from the driver's seat. "And toothbrushes."

"He's right," Mika confirmed. "We can literally buy anything there. Well, almost - got your passport?"

July dug through her bag and pulled out the document. "Yeah." She still didn't seem convinced though. "What if… it's expired." Of course she had checked multiple times already. But still. What if.

Mika snatched it out of July's hand and checked the expiry date. "Nope, all good. Cute picture, by the way," she grinned.

July blushed and grabbed it back, tucking it into her bag. "What if we get arrested at the border."

"What for?!"

"…maybe someone put drugs in our car or something."

"Then we take them all ourselves," Mika laughed.

"What if we get mugged in Toronto, and our passports get stolen, and they don't let us back in."

"Come on, now you're getting ridiculous. Also, I doubt we would be the first dumbass Americans who manage to lose their passports somehow. There's probably a dedicated counter at the border crossing for that. Canada doesn't wanna keep us."

"What if the car breaks down."

"Then Gabriel will come and pick us up. That man loves playing knight in shining armor."

"Unless our car explodes with us in it," Aaron interjected, getting a glare from Mika.

"What if we get into a snowstorm."

"It's April!"

July grimaced in response, then listed her next scenario. "What if our hotel sucks."

"Aaron and I have stayed in that exact same place before. Last year."

"…what if it burned down suddenly."

"Then we find somewhere else to stay. I know for a fact that this city has more than one hotel."

"What if the concert gets canceled."

"Then we find something else to entertain ourselves. Like, that is the smallest of problems."

Aaron piped up again. "Oh! What if the support band dies unexpectedly, and we have to jump in, and then we get super famous suddenly!"

"Shit, I didn't bring my guitar," Mika lamented. "No wait, or what if you fall madly in love with a Canadian and don't want to come back with us!"

July playfully punched Mika's arm. "Now you guys are getting ridiculous."

"Yeah, who would ever fall in love with a Canadian," she laughed.

"Don't be mean."

Mika got serious again and grabbed July's hand to reassure her.

"You know what's the worst that might happen, realistically? The pizza we're getting for dinner is kinda mediocre. Or our hotel room neighbors are fucking too loudly. Or I talk so much that you want to strangle me. Everything else? Highly unlikely. Nothing bad will happen. But if it happens, we'll figure it out. Dude, we got this."

July sighed and collected her thoughts for a moment, then she nodded. "Okay, fine. We got this. Just don't abandon me there or something…"

Mika squeezed her hand. "I'll stick to you like glue. In fact, soon you will beg me to give you some peace and quiet, and I'm still not going to leave your side for even one second," she teased, making July laugh.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

#lizardwriting #flash fiction friday #july tag #mika tag #aaron tag

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tainted-liquor · 1 year ago

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Hi! Important lil PSA for the road, cuz theres an increase in parasocial relationships w me and my friends.

TW; Immersion break, one-sided relationships, parasocial dynamics?? idk.

Alr hi, chances are if you're reading this rn you've been following me, or hate me dearly LOL. Im talia, and Im a tumblr creator that started in summer of last year writing for the ATSV community. During this time I've amassed about 900 followers and met some really cool folks ! But Ive been noticing there is a lack of respect for someones wishes to remain anonymous, so I wanna address something.

I love writing! I love my lil fanbase and I love all you silly lil guys in the miles community, but please remember. I am NOT your casual friend. I don't OWE you anything.

I am a teen girl (or boy) who doesn't really know any of you. Idk who you are, your interests, your personality, nothing. I am not going to "reveal" or entertain the idea of my identity behind the screen, because I have a social life with an amazing partner and great friends that I just dont want on this acc LOL ! Big shocker, this account embarrasses me ! I wouldnt want anyone at school finding it, so as a result, im not going to be doing any "age" nor "face" reveals for my safety lol

coming in my inbox and saying im starting drama when im not even talking to anybody rn is...weird. DMING me CHILD **RN is weird. I need you all to recognize that I dont see any of you as my classmates, my close friends, I recognize you as 1 of 2 things; people who like my work, or people I talk to on occassion.

Yes, I have a group of friends from tumblr that know my face, identity, age, living space, etc. But if that is not you, then I don't owe you...shit LOL. I will not be posting my passport, my ID, my school photos, NOTHING. Fruitlessly attempting to harass me over these things will get you nothing but embarrassment and a good laugh from my family and friends.

And this statement doesnt apply to just me, either. Ive had people in my friends inboxes and messages talk in a weirdly casual manner, and refer to them as their 'friend'. As in calling them by their name, and attempting to hold conversations like they link arms together and walk thru school hallways. THIS IS NOT...NORMAL LOL.

From some of my closest friends in the miles writing community,

STOP. ATTACHING. YOURSELF. TO. WRITERS!

im a normal ass black girl w problems of my own, and a job to attend...I have more maturity and sense of self and responsibilty than an unfortunate amount of people who are going to read this message and get offended. If I don't upload a 2nd part of your fav fic in time, dont take to my inbox to get upset. If we're not at LEAST mutuals, please don't talk to me or say things to me in the way you would talk to a wife, best friend, cousin, or casual.

#psa #atsv #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles community #parasocial relationships #parasocial behavior

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goodluckclove · 8 months ago

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since you're doing Honesty Day, list your 20 favorite things about yourself, plus 10 things you love about life! You can take ur time but I believe in you! Do more if you can I just don't want to make the goal super high

This is adorable and also not something I imagine many people are going to want to read so I'm going to throw it under a read more.

So uh, if you want to hear me toot my own horn. Check the read more.

Things I Like About Myself

Unless I'm off my meds and the pharmacy fucked me over again, I am nice to service workers

I talk to street cats like they're people. Birds too.

I've given several freshly dead birds a proper burial

I talked a woman off a bridge once. Ended up giving her my jacket.

I'm a really easy laugh so I'm great in a comedy audience

I don't get bored easily. Pretty good at finding something to do and I'm easily amused.

I'm pretty good at improv

I used to take myself to San Francisco when I was younger and spend the weekend in a hostel. Stayed in most of the hostels in the city. Green Tortoise is my favorite.

I can make a solid blanket fort

I catered for NASA, Apple and Google. Stole a lot of empanadas because the company I worked for refused to give us breaks.

I once got a mean dog to like me when I worked at the Dog Daycare

Made an ice cream cake from scratch for my friend's birthday because they didn't have the flavor she likes and that shit was HARD

My smile is fun I think. I think I appear friendly and that comforts me.

I believe I'm unpretentious and hopefully approachable and I like that

My queer younger siblings have always tended to consider me a safe person. I really treasure that.

I think I'm generally a fun person most of the time.

I'm pretty good at finding bad movies to watch

I pick good snacks

I don't do it enough but I am good at self-care

I've never messed up an angel food cake

Okay and now things I love about my life!

My wife Riley is a great partner and the love of my life. They're so loving and odd and warm and they delight me constantly.

We bought a house together recently and we're moving into it this weekend! It has a bathtub!

Bob and Nipsy, our cats, have been fighting today, but they're individually such funny creatures. They're so weird and they make me laugh and I love singing them little made up songs.

I get to spend so much time writing and talking with writers online. Riley supports and encourages my career so passionately and patiently and I'm so grateful for it.

It's been really good weather lately so we're both in good spirits

Once we move I'm going to get around to legally changing my name so I will officially be Clover (might change the last name for my legal name)

At some point I'll be able to get my hysterectomy yayay

I also have to get my passport because Riley has traveled a lot and wants to travel with me

I didn't kill myself when I was 21

I stopped talking to my parents and I have no plans to let them back into my life.

Okay I'm done talking about myself bye!

#personal

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onboardsorasora · 1 year ago

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I've been hammering at this all day and it doesn't want to go in a different direction. So I yield. Its not super whimsical but we're moving the story along, please don't hate me

Part 1 | Part 7

Part 8

Max stood in the kitchen, sipping a red bull and being grilled by his mother and sister. They had come over, as he promised Daniel they would, to celebrate his birthday. So… Max didn��t exactly tell them about Daniel, just that he had a friend staying with him for a little, while they worked out some visa issues.

Sophie and Vic had accepted that easily because they had no reason to not believe. They only realized something was….odd when they’d actually come over. Daniel was in Max’s clothes, it was clear to see. And he looked very cozy and comfortable in the space and the cats were very attached to him.

So after the initial greeting and introductions where Daniel gushed to Sophie how wonderful her son was (absolutely not helping), Daniel had happily agreed to keep an eye on Luka and Lio for a quick sec. That was how Max ended up in the kitchen being bombarded with accusations of hiding his boyfriend.

Daniel wasn’t his boyfriend, Max didn’t get why everyone thought that.

Not that he didn’t think that would, maybe, be nice. But that's a different thing altogether.

He looks across the room to Daniel who is talking animatedly with Lio while Luka stroked Jimmy’s fur. Sassy laid comfortably in Daniel’s lap as if that was her home. Truth be told, it kinda was. She had taken to Daniel faster and more completely than she’d ever taken to Max and maybe he could admit he was a little jealous of that.

It was like she was protecting Daniel. There had been a few times that he’d seen her pad across the apartment and waited for him, as if leading Daniel to what he needed. She’d also gotten his attention once when it looked like he was going to squeeze his finger in a door. He’d crooned to her after about how amazing she was and they spent the afternoon curled up in a beam of sunlight together.

Sassy barely allowed Max to hold her sometimes, and she sure as shit didn’t want to cuddle. He’d joke and say she was a strong independent cat that didn’t need an owner. So this was completely new territory for him.

So yes, maybe Max was a little jealous of Daniel and Sassy’s relationship. Just a little. A smidge. A tad.

“No we aren’t together. Daniel is just a magical friend who needed some help getting home.” Max muttered around his can. Of course Sophie and Vic didn’t buy it.

“Magical friend?” Vic’s deadpan tone only got more cutting with motherhood.

“Yes. He’s magical adept or whatever google calls it.”

Sophie squinted her eyes at him before looking at Daniel again who was now gushing over something Lio was showing him. Their heads were close together as they chattered excitedly. Luka looked on with Jimmy.

“What do you mean?” Sophie asked. She, of course, knew about magical people. But she’d never met one. Vic was flabbergasted.

“He speaks to animals and his tattoos move.”

“Is that why Sassy is curled up on him like–” Vic cut in

“Yep” Max confirmed.

“So was the visa thing a lie?” Sophie asked.

“No, it is the weirdest thing. He’s from Australia and came over on a plane…but he doesn’t have a passport or anything. So I’ve been talking with his sister about figuring it out.”

“Is his sister magical too?” Vic again.

“I dunno.” Max shrugged, he was watching Daniel. He was more sedate than usual, very different to when he first met Lando, Charles, Alex and Lily. it seemed as if he was maybe trying to keep himself in check. Daniel looked up and caught him staring, he smiled sweetly at Max, not at all like the face cracking grins Max was used to, then looked back to the boys.

It wasn’t bad, just unexpected.

Suddenly, Max remembered Daniel’s reaction to finding out that Max had cancelled his birthday plans and wondered if maybe Daniel was trying to make a good impression.

“He’s very worried that you don’t like him.” Max mumbled, not looking when both women’s eyes snapped back to him. “He was…upset that I cancelled our plans and blamed himself, I don’t of course, but he was really sad. So he wants to make a good impression so you don’t hate him, I think.”

Well that won’t do, Sophie and Vic shook their heads as if physically denouncing the idea. They each grabbed a drink and filtered back to the living room to join whatever activity Daniel and the boys were doing. Daniel offered them a tentative smile.

“I hope you don’t mind, we’ve been painting.” Daniel said softly and Max’s chest clenched at how achingly earnest it was. The boys picked up their artwork to show off happily.

“Why would we mind?” Sophie found herself asking, taking Luka’s painting– the race car was blue like his uncle’s and surrounded by trophies.

“Uhm,” Daniel bit his lip and looked to Max as if checking if it was ok. Max smiled at him encouragingly. “Sassy said you didn’t like the smell of the paint last time Luka used them. It made you sick.”

Vic’s eyes widened and she looked over at her brother as if for confirmation. Max held his hands up in a ‘it wasn’t me motion’ because he didn’t tell Daniel that the paints made Vic sick when she was pregnant with Lio. Sassy did.

Part 9

#they've truly taken on a life of their own and have refused all my guidance for this chapter.#I hope you like it lol #max/daniel #maxiel #enchanted au #disney princess dan

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certified-bi · 3 months ago

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Okay so one thing I've never gotten in atla that always read as men not thinking and writing up some bullshit is Kanna getting back with Pakku. And some of this is fueled by my inherent dislike of the white Lotus but like come the fuck on.

Like I'm not saying I don't think she doesn't still care about him or their past relationship. She did in fact keep his necklace. But she left him behind because he supported the sexism in the NWT. She didn't just leave the tribe she's implied to specifically have left because of the upcoming marriage given the necklace was carved already.

Not only that, while she saw her new home tribe oppressed and destroyed by the fire nation, watched her friend, the last southern waterbender, carted away in chains, watched as her daughter in law sacrificed herself to save her child the sole waterbender born after the raids and left alive, he hid behind a wall and upheld the society she left because of how it harmed her. Her son left to fight in this war when no one would have blamed him for staying behind to protect what was left of their family, but Pakku only fights after the CHILD avatar comes back. And the whole point of the White Lotus is to train and support the avatar which don't even get me started on that and how the White Lotus has a member in the NWT but Hakoda isn't dealt in as an active participant in the war efforts. Because this organization could have actively resisted the FN before Aang returns but given one of their big members is the guy who literally was know for being such a dangerous general who tore down one of Ba Sing Se's walls not 10 years earlier, I doubt they were given they just let Iroh get super high up and we're never actually shown them doing anything outside of helping Aang train and showing up after hes done all the resistance, instead choosing to just idle about with one notable exception in the fucking role playing game. And if you want to argue they were doing more that should have been shown. But all we get are some winks that old men talk to eachother, iroh gets some passports, and the day of sozins comet.... anyways back to Pakku.

So given all that context around him plus! The fact he doesn't even initially train Katara(the only southern waterbender whose trying to reclaim her culture by any means) until he realizes his ex gf is her grandma.... like he doesn't reflect that maybe he needs to change until he realizes she doesn't even care enough to mention him and he's been pining and upholding patriarchy while she moved on.

But fine he accepts Katara and her work ethic and she's his star pupil so it's resolved right? NO BECAUSE HES A FUCKING ASS TO SOKKA!? Like he wants to get back with this woman, and begrudgingly accepts her prodigy waterbending granddaughter but actively rejects her nonbending grandson who is a key figure in ending the war. The grandson who reflects her son and most likely her first husband. The one she actually wanted to be with.

And you could argue that Pakku is just being played as the straight man against Sokka, which is fine but we never see him show any kind of fondness for him unless I'm misremembering their interactions and a whole scene. I also think it's weird to pull the "and she gets back with him before the day of the comet" because what?

Honestly tldr Kanna could do so much better. This woman raised three of the key players in ending the war, is a badass midwife, a respected elder, and is portrayed as taking no shit as she keeps her people together. And yet she ends up with mister "has no game, barely respects women, and waited for children to step in to end the war"? There's no way she couldn't pull a ton of suitors from all over the world, I just don't think it's realistic she would settle after already leaving his ass once.

#atla #man i dont even like hate pakku as a character #he makes sense #and i totally believe hed want to get back with her #i just dont see her springing as eagerly for him #her getting with Hama post series would have made more sense

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actual-lea · 20 days ago

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Hello it is a new chapter of this thing please read it if you wanna?

AO3 | First chapter | Previous chapter

Daniel’s hands don’t stop shaking for the entire ride back to the motel. It’s not until he empties the contents of his backpack onto the bed, until he flings his journal and everything in it into the too-small trash can in the corner, that the adrenaline finally begins to wear off.

That’s when the ache in his chest returns, radiating in waves from his still-healing ribs. It echoes with his every sob, stealing his breath until he's on his knees gasping for air, clutching the sheets of the bed like a lifeline. It hurts like his lung is collapsing in on itself all over again, the cracks in his bones split open from his scuffle with Widmore’s security.

He closes his eyes and wraps an arm around his chest. He’s being overdramatic; the six weeks since his hospital stay have nearly passed, and he won’t go back now. He can’t.

He just needs to breathe, to feel the air fill his chest and let it go.

In, and out. In, and out.

Slowly, the pain begins to ebb, leaving him hollow and shivering in its wake. He stays on the floor, his forehead pressed to the side of the mattress, his eyes screwed shut in a futile attempt to stop the tears. He counts his heartbeats as they pass, loses track somewhere around three hundred and has to start over twice.

He’s only made it to forty-two on the third count when a sound shakes him from his stupor: a cell phone vibrating.

Daniel pushes himself to his feet, carefully, and leans forward to sift through the rubble of his meaningless life. It takes too long to find the phone, too long to flip it open with his clumsy fingers, too long to make his eyes focus on the name written on the screen, long enough that it should have stopped ringing already.

Finally, he brings the phone to his ear with a shaky hand. “Hello?”

Four heartbeats pass before he hears a response. “Daniel?”

The familiar voice should feel like a salve to the burning in his throat. It doesn’t. He takes a deep breath to steady himself. “Yeah, it's me. Uh…” He should have figured out what to say before he answered the phone. What do people say on the phone? “How's– how are you?”

“Fine.” Concern colors the word. “We're all fine, but you don't sound so good, brother. What's happened?”

Daniel runs a hand through his hair. “It's a long story,” he says, biting back a humorless laugh. “Do you think you could…meet me? Somewhere?”

There’s a long pause on the other end. “Pick you up, you mean? Does that mean you’re–”

“Yes.” He’s done with the island. He’s done with all of it.

“Then, yeah. Of course. Where, ah…”

“California,” Daniel provides. “Los Angeles, preferably, but I’m not picky.” He hasn’t left the country since his return several months prior, and trying to use the passport of a dead man probably won’t go over well, even if he is the dead man in question.

Another pause, and some faint shuffling in the background. “Aye, we can do that. Though, it’ll take some time.” More shuffling. “A few weeks, at least. You have somewhere safe to stay in the meantime?”

Safe. He nods slowly, then remembers Desmond can’t see him. “Yes. Yeah. I can… I’ll be fine.”

“Alright.” Desmond doesn’t sound convinced, but he doesn’t press.

“What, um…” Daniel swallows against the lump in his throat and wills his voice to steady itself. “Why did you…call me?”

Desmond exhales. “Yesterday was Charlie’s birthday.”

Shit. Daniel squeezes his forehead with one hand and fights the urge to sink to his knees again. “I’m sorry, I… I completely forgot,” he chokes out, like it isn’t obvious.

“Don’t worry about it, brother,” Desmond says. “I hadn’t told anyone you were planning to call. I don’t think he understands yet how phones work, anyway,” he adds, with a smile in his voice, “So he’ll be much gladder to see you rather than just hearin’ your voice.”

Daniel nods mechanically.

They’re both silent for a long moment. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

Daniel shuts his eyes and shakes his head. “No.” It’s the only word that he won’t choke on.

“Right.” Desmond's voice is gentle. “Hang in there, brother. We’ll see you soon, yeah?”

------

The FOR SALE sign in front of Daniel’s childhood home sways in the breeze, emitting a harsh creak with each particularly strong gust.

Daniel stands across the street from the house, still in the same spot where the taxi dropped him off. He wraps his jacket tighter around himself to keep out the cold wind, idly wondering whether he ever actually missed the New England weather, or just the idea of it.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out, watches the fog from his exhale dissipate into the evening air, and finally crosses the quiet street without bothering to look both ways.

He pauses at the gate to take a closer look at the FOR SALE sign, with its weathered corners and slightly faded ink. He could call the realtor’s phone number to ask how long the house has been on the market, though he probably wouldn’t get a straight answer.

It doesn’t really matter; the house will be just as empty, either way.

The front door is locked, so he circles around to the back porch. Finding the spare key hidden among the potted plants hanging from the eaves takes longer than it should, considering that he was probably the one who left it there long ago. It takes a bit of effort to force the slightly rusted key into the lock – or maybe that’s all in his head – but it still fits, and he opens the door.

The dining room table is gone.

He stares at the small nicks in the hardwood floor where it used to stand, the scratches from years of chairs being pulled in and out, the only signs left – besides the thin layer of dust settled on the countertops – that the space isn’t just a model kitchen from a demo home that’s never been lived in.

The single step he takes echoes in the vacant room, and he resists the ingrained habit to take off his shoes before walking into the house. He won’t be here long; not in the grand scheme of things, anyway.

It’s probably not the safest place he could go to wait for Desmond, if he’s being honest. If someone’s looking for him, his one known address in the country would be the logical place to start.

Of course, it doesn’t actually matter; Widmore’s made it abundantly clear that he can find Daniel anywhere, after all, so what difference does it make if he stays in one all-too-predictable place? At least it’s familiar.

Well, sort of.

He steps into the living room. White sheets cover all the furniture – the couch, the coffee table, the lamp in the corner. The only sign of life is the large windowsill with its neatly arranged row of plants he always forgot the names of. He was never actually sure if they were real or fake; the fact that they aren’t dead would suggest the latter.

Otherwise, the room is empty, the walls bare. The house is silent and still as a mausoleum.

Daniel frowns. Something is missing.

A ridiculous thought, considering just how much is missing from this place he once called home. Still, he can’t shake the feeling as he makes his way upstairs to investigate his old room.

Everything’s mostly intact there, at least; there’s still a bed and a desk, even if the chair and CD player are gone.

He sets his backpack down on the bare mattress, but doesn’t start unpacking just yet, aside from digging out his journal. He could’ve left it behind in Los Angeles rather than retrieving it from the trash can mere minutes after throwing it away, but there are too many years of his life contained within, in the form of so many contextless equations and scattered notes and half-finished diagrams. Maybe he’ll let it go one day; maybe months from now, he’ll drop it into the middle of the Pacific Ocean with little fanfare, watch it sink to the depths from the deck of Our Mutual Friend.

For now, he places it in the center of the desk and busies himself with searching for a set of sheets from the hall closet. It’s a mess, unaffected by the vanishing act of the rest of the house, and it takes a surprising amount of rummaging around to unearth a matching set.

Downstairs, the front door opens.

Daniel freezes. He tries not to flinch when it swings shut. Footsteps, unhurried and incautious, cross the bare floor somewhere below.

He glances over the contents of the closet, but no weapon presents itself. He doesn’t own a baseball bat, or a golf club, or anything helpful, and so he creeps down the stairs with nothing to defend himself except a wooden chess set clutched in both hands, ready to swing.

The faucet in the kitchen turns on, and he freezes again. Is Widmore's thug filling a glass of water for himself? Maybe he’s thirsty, didn’t stop anywhere for a drink on the drive from the airport.

The water stops, and the footsteps begin again, alongside a soft sound that Daniel can’t identify at first.

Humming.

A woman humming, bright and cheerful.

Slowly, he lowers the chess set to the floor and descends the last few stairs.

The woman leans over to water one of the plants on the windowsill, her back to Daniel, her short blonde hair golden in the sunset streaming through the curtains.

“Caroline?”

She yelps in surprise, splashing water on the floor as she whirls around. Her shocked expression only intensifies when she sees him. “Daniel?”

He nods hesitantly. What is he supposed to say? “What…are you doing here?”

Caroline stares. “What am I doing here?” She shakes her head. “Dan, I– I thought you were…”

Oh. Right. “Dead?” he finishes for her, with something like a shrug. “Well…I’m not,” he adds when she doesn’t respond.

She sets down the glass and takes a small step toward him. “You're not,” she repeats, like she’s still convincing herself, and then she laughs in disbelief. “You’re not.”

She hugs him, and he freezes momentarily before awkwardly returning the embrace. When she pulls away, she’s beaming. “Oh, I am so happy to see you!” she declares, taking his face in her hands a bit too tightly.

“I’m glad to see you too, Caroline,” he says, and he means it. “But…what are you doing here?”

“I drop by every few days to check on the house,” she says, returning to the windowsill. “Take care of the flowers, make sure things are nice and tidy. Helps keep the resale value up.”

Daniel watches her in silence for a few seconds. “So, my mother is selling the house?”

“That’s right,” Caroline says. She pauses, then turns back to him, her face twisted with concern. “Does your mother know? That you’re alright?”

He laughs once, a sharp, surprising sound. “Yeah, she knows. She definitely knows.” The words leave a bitter taste in his mouth. He clears his throat. “I, uh… I don’t guess she told you how it happened? Or, uh. Supposedly happened?”

“No, she never did say,” Caroline replies. “She only mentioned that there was some kind of accident.”

“Hm.” He crosses his arms and drums his fingers on his elbow. Why would his mother go around telling people something that she didn’t definitively know herself? Why would she tell Caroline unambiguously that he was dead, when she had no way of knowing whether or not it was actually true?

Caroline is staring at him. “What?” he asks.

She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You’re…different, than the last time I saw you.”

Functioning, she means. Able to act like a normal person, or at least a close approximation of one. Able to hold a full conversation without forgetting the beginning halfway through.

The last time she saw him must have been three years ago, at least – before the island. She was his caretaker then; after his mind shattered, it only made sense for his mother to hire Caroline, the kind neighbor he’d known since he was a child, someone who used to babysit him for weeks at a time, someone who wouldn’t have to reintroduce herself to him multiple times a day.

He remembers only the rough edges of that period in his life, like the vague outline of a dream he can’t recall. Even his clearest memory – his mother urging him to take the job he’d been offered by Charles Widmore – persists only in bits and pieces, fragments of sensory experiences with no context attached. The jingling of car keys set on a table, the click of his mother’s shoes on the hardwood floor, the smooth resin of the piano keys beneath his fingertips.

He freezes. Something is missing. “Where’s my piano?”

“I think she sold it, not long after you left,” Caroline says quietly.

Daniel steps into the empty space in the corner of the room, struggling to fill the matching empty space in his chest with logic. Of course she sold it. He was gone. Dead, for all she knew. There would be no reason for her to keep it. He’s never known his mother to be particularly sentimental when it comes to mementos.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. Even if he could remember the last time he played, it still wouldn’t matter. He won’t be here for long, after all, so why should it matter?

“How long has the house been for sale?” he asks, turning back to Caroline. “I mean, has anyone made any offers, or…?”

She shakes her head. “Not that I’m aware of, no. Although, you’d have to ask the listing agent. I have her number, if you want it,” she adds, crossing the room to grab her purse.

“No, thank you, that’s alright,” Daniel says quickly. The last thing he needs is for his mother to drop by unannounced; better to avoid speaking with anyone who might be in regular contact with her.

“I’m not sure how long it’s been since the last open house,” Caroline continues. “Several months, at least.”

Daniel nods and takes a deep breath. “Well, in that case, is it… Is it alright if I…stay here? For a little while?” What an odd question to ask in his own home.

Then again, is it his home? He’s lived more than half his life here, but it’s not as if he has any real claim to the house; it’s his mother’s name on the deed, not his. Legally speaking, he’s technically trespassing.

“Of course.” Caroline smiles and laughs a bit. “It’s your house, Dan.”

He forces a smile of his own. “I guess it is.”

She steps forward and gives him another quick hug. “Welcome home.”

------

The next few days pass without incident. A week, two weeks, then three, all without anyone kicking down the door to drag Daniel away on Widmore’s orders.

He spends most of the time reading back issues of old tech magazines, the few remnants of his collection that haven’t been cleared out along with everything else. Most of the pages are decorated with small wrinkles and creases, a clear indication that he’s spent some time – a lot of time, probably – thumbing through them before. More than likely, he’s read them all cover to cover hundreds of times, each time the first, since he undoubtedly didn’t retain any of the information within.

It's a full month of finding ways to while away the hours before Desmond calls, early one morning, to let him know they’re only a few days out from Los Angeles.

Daniel starts packing as soon as he hangs up. He might as well leave now, so he can meet them on arrival. Maybe he’ll have a chance to say goodbye to Hurley as well; they haven’t spoken since the last time Dan visited Santa Rosa, since he left abruptly to track down Locke.

He's stuffing the last of his things into his backpack when a knock at the front door shakes him from his thoughts; Caroline, no doubt, delivering the usual semi-weekly supply of groceries despite his protests. He’s more than capable of buying his own, regardless of the mass of fast-food wrappers she’d found in the trash the first time she came to check on him.

He puts on his backpack as he descends the stairs. He’ll have to be more adamant in his refusal, since he’s leaving today. He opens the door.

“Morning,” says one of the two men standing there. He holds up a badge. “You Daniel Faraday?”

“Uh…” Daniel blinks. “Yeah?”

“Cool. Gonna need you to come with us, then.”

He blinks again, not understanding. “What… Who–”

The second man steps forward, producing a pair of handcuffs.

Daniel steps back. Is he being arrested? “Why are you– What’s the charge?”

“Arson. Murder.” The first man shrugs. “Jaywalking. Take your pick.”

The second grabs Dan’s arm roughly to spin him around and cuff him, and Daniel stares at the floor, too dumbfounded to do anything else.

Arson. Murder. The library at the University of Michigan? Leon? How could anyone try to blame Daniel for any of that? How could anyone have even connected him to it, when he wasn’t using his real name?

He’s escorted out of the house and deposited into the back seat of a car idling in the street. It’s not until the car pulls away from the curb that he finally understands. “You aren't really cops,” he says quietly, almost a question but not quite.

Neither of his kidnappers respond.

Daniel exhales. What was even the point of the police façade, then? “So, what, you're working for Widmore?”

The first man, the driver, laughs. “Is that what you think this is?”

“It… It was.” Daniel shifts uneasily. “Who are you, then?”

The second turns around in his seat to face him. “You’ve got bigger things to worry about, my friend.”

Daniel’s mouth is too dry. He swallows. “Like…what?”

“You still don't even realize you're playing for the wrong team.”

“I…wasn’t aware there were teams,” Daniel says flatly. He swallows again. “So, what team am I on, exactly?”

The man grins like he’s said something funny. “The one that's gonna lose.”

#lost #fanfiction #daniel faraday #abc lost #lost show #WHERE ARE THE DAN FANS PSPSPSPSPSPSPS #a place to call home #the way home

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radical-aurin-care · 2 months ago

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my year review

last new years', I made the resolution to not let fear stop me anymore from doing what I knew was right.

due to old as well as ongoing abuse, my entire life and personality had been shaped by fear since I was a baby (I'm late 30s now). so this was no easy thing to change. but I resolved to work on it and to work through my fear if it tried to stop me from doing what's right.

I was successful. I stood up to my harrassing nazi neighbour, I stopped putting up with bureaucratic abuse (which meant I stopped getting benefits which was SUPER scary but worth it to me!) and so on. mainly it meant standing up to abuse or getting away from it or just dealing with shit.

it meant valuing myself and my decisions and my agency and sovereignty over my own life and time and body.

it was a big fight and I coached myself through severe anxiety attacks many times especially in the beginning. but then due to steps I'd taken, these situations where the right thing was scary became less and less common AND it became second nature to me to face my fears. I feel like I no longer need a special reminder or promise to myself to stand up to fear and to abusers - I just do that now. and it's no longer AS hard.

the biggest leap I made was definitely moving away from germany, the land of my abusers and rapists and nazis and overbearing bureaucracy, to Finland, the land of everyone just leave me the fuck alone. and a thousand lakes.

I had no money except for some me and my roommate (we moved together) had begged off the Internet, just enough for deposit and first month's rent and train tickets to get here. we had a truly horrific ordeal, I mean wild adventure, getting here by train via denmark and sweden the long way around the baltic sea which we had to take because despite shengen (it's a LIE 😡) it was the only way to travel through the EU without passports. would have SO preferred to take a ferry otherwise!

we're both disabled and had to sleep in train stations and parks and on sidewalks and were chased away for sitting down and it was super hard and sweden fucking sucks. denmark too for their random passport checks on trains at the border to germany. but we were lucky.

we also had some fun and some lovely moments like busking in a small swedish town in summer (it gets warmer than you think) and the view from the train window when we were finally in Finland and saw the forests and lakes of Lapland go by.

and then we arrived in this empty neglected house with its beautifully overgrown garden (if only the previous tenants hadn't left trash lying around 😡) and had no furniture or even pots and pans or cutlery or plates, and no transportation and no citizen ID number. for the first weekend we had no electricity.

half a year later we're still missing some essential furniture (and means to earn money) but we made big progress turning this house into a home. we still struggle everyday just to get through it with cooking and chores (like carrying firewood and cleaning the fireplace and keeping the fire going cause that's our main heating (and don't even get me started on shovelling snow, it's not spoonie friendly)) eating all our spoons but it is worth it and we're making things better bit by bit.

I don't regret any of the leaps of faith I made this year. In fact I am proud as all get out of myself!

#aurin posts #year review

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your-divine-ribs · 11 months ago

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Ice Cold Part 11

Words: 2.2k words

Lyla arrives in Paris for the next assignment…

Ice Cold Masterlist Main Masterlist

The days following my encounter slipped by in a whirlwind of anxiety and denial. I felt like I was sleep-walking, the tenuous grip I had on reality getting weaker every time I tried to make sense of my confusing feelings.

My colleagues all thought that I was traumatised by something that had happened that night and in part that was true, but for very different reasons than whatever they could imagine. Apart from Jason of course. I had to endure his snide comments and inappropriate behaviour which was steadily getting worse. His wandering hands which would have earned him a sharp comment at the very least or a slap before were met by a pathetic weakening of my resistance. I hated myself for letting him get away with it, but in truth I was terrified by the thought of him causing trouble for me.

Paul tried to persuade me to move to a safe-house and lay low for a while, positive that Van would come back to 'finish what he'd started' but I refused. He eventually relented, so I now had an unmarked car sitting outside my apartment every night, and strict orders to report on my whereabouts at all times if I made a trip out. I felt like a prisoner in my own home, and having more time to sit around and think was driving me crazy. When I got wind of some valid intelligence that had been received about another hit expected in Paris, I found myself begging Paul to let me go, despite my better judgement.

"Please Paul, I'm losing my sanity here stuck behind a desk. I know you're worried about me but you can't mollycoddle me forever. I'm a fully trained agent and I can handle myself."

He looked conflicted as I paced in front of his desk. "Lyla, you know how I feel about this. I think your time might be better spent staying here in the office and working with Jason. He's making some real progress with mapping out where the people are based who are orchestrating all of this. If we can get to whoever's running this organisation it'll be like cutting the head off the snake."

The thought of spending time alone with Jason filled me with a sick kind of dread and I considered coming clean and telling Paul all about the harassment that I was enduring, but I was terrified that if I made life difficult for Jason he would retaliate and the shameful truth would somehow be uncovered.

I balled my hands into fists at my sides in pure frustration, stepping up to Paul's desk and looking at him with pleading eyes. "I can do this... please. Look, you said so yourself, no one has ever got so close to Van and walked away to tell the tale. I have... three times."

Paul raised his eyebrows. "Don't think you can let your guard down just because he's spared you before. Showing mercy isn't his style. Things are hotting up. They know we're closing in. That's why they're desperate to find out who our undercover agents are. Van will have strict orders to wipe out as many of us as he can."

My mind immediately pictured Van in a rage, fighting with his conscience about whether to kill me or not. The risk was real and absolute, I had no doubt about that. But there was something burning inside me which pushed the risk to one side. It was reckless and foolish but I just couldn't help myself. I felt out of control, like an addict craving a fix of the one thing that would more than likely be my demise.

"I need this... I need to prove my worth. And I can do this... I know I can. I won't let you down."

My plea hung in the air for a moment, I could see the struggle taking place in Paul's head, the promise he made to my father weighing heavily on him.

"Shit Lyla... I think you have me wrapped around your little finger sometimes," he said eventually, shaking his head. Then he frowned at me with a stern expression. "Please don't make me regret this."

So there I was, two days later, disembarking a plane at Charles de Gaulle Airport, gripping my passport tightly as I moved through arrivals.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jen spoke from beside me.

I'd hardly spoken since we'd got on the plane, thankful that another agent, Raj, had been sat on Jen's other side. He'd taken her attention whilst I sat at the window seat, staring blindly out at the clouds, trying to convince myself that I was travelling hundreds of miles for the right reason.

"I'm fine... I'm just tired," I mumbled.

"Can't believe Paul's actually let you come," Raj chuckled as he retrieved his luggage off the baggage carousel.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I snapped, automatically ready for a fight.

"Woah! I didn't mean anything bad!" Raj set his suitcase down and raised his hands up defensively. "I think he's worried that Van's got some kind of agenda with you, the way he keeps targeting you."

I waved a hand dismissively. "I guess I've just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's nothing personal."

Jen stepped forward. "He broke into your apartment. I'd say that was pretty personal!"

Before I could protest Raj was off again, an eager look on his face as he looked at me wide-eyed. "I heard about that. Bloody hell, it must have been terrifying coming face to face with him. I've been doing some work with the profiling team and he is one fucked up individual. He's an absolute psychopath, no empathy, no fear, no remorse... nothing."

My interest was piqued, I'd seen plenty of case files but I'd not been privy to his in-depth psych profile. "Have you read all about his history? Why he's the way he is? I'd love to know..."

Jen cut in. "Does it matter? We're not here to give him bloody therapy!"

"But aren't you curious?" I asked.

"No!" Jen said in a sharp tone which wasn't her usual manner. "And you shouldn't be either. Just concentrate on what we've been sent here to do. We're here to arrest him... or kill him. And I can't see him coming quietly, can you?"

Jen's statement caught me off guard but luckily Raj came to my rescue. "Well I actually think it's pretty fascinating Lyla. Did you know I had a Masters in Criminal Psychology?"

I fell into step beside Raj, making small talk about his degree studies as we made for the taxi rank. I made sure the conversation didn't stray to Van again.

We were to attend an exclusive benefits dinner and dance at a lavish hotel in a wealthy area of Paris. Word was that the assassination of yet another high society figure with connections to the underworld was to be carried out that very night. Our primary objective was to protect the target and deflect whatever attack was to be launched, securing an arrest or the termination of the perpetrator. Van. Dead or alive... by any means necessary.

Preparations for the big event were already underway when the taxi dropped us off outside the hotel and I saw countless staff milling around. I looked up, awestruck at the grand building, blowing out a breath through my pursed lips. "We're actually staying here too?"

"Perks of the job and all that!" Raj chuckled, eyes bugging as an Aston Martin pulled up outside and a chic looking couple stepped out.

"It's not a bloody holiday!" Jen huffed as we all moved towards the entrance.

I bristled at Jen's frosty demeanour which had been evident since we stepped off the plane but decided to ignore it, putting it down to stress at the vitally important assignment we were all faced with. Paul was right, things were hotting up and we couldn't afford to make any mistakes. There was only one reason that the criminal organisation we were up against would dare to carry out a hit on a high profile target in such a public place... and that was to make statement. They wanted to show they were fearless and untouchable.

We all checked in and made our way across the opulent foyer, making for the lifts.

"Right, we'll meet back here at 7pm," Raj instructed.

"Don't forget it's a black tie event," Jen piped up, giving my colleague a pointed glare, taking in his ripped jeans and scuffed boots. "I hope you've brought something suitable. Not that bloody awful suit you wear for meetings."

Raj shook his head, assuring her he'd packed his tux, and he'd be appropriately suited and booted for the evening, and then we all went our separate ways.

My room was situated on the fourth floor of the sprawling hotel and my eyes were wide as I stepped inside, taking in the vast room. The bathroom alone was bigger than my whole apartment. I walked around, running a hand over the expensive looking furnishings, marvelling at the huge bed adorned with sumptuous silk sheets. God, it looked inviting. I turned around, kicked off my boots and flopped down on to my back, practically sinking into the mattress.

I hadn't realised just how tense I was. My body felt tight, knotted with anxiety. I closed my eyes, consciously trying to relax each part of my body in turn. My toes, my legs, my back, my arms, my neck. Of course it was all well and good relaxing my body but what of my mind?

My thoughts slipped back through the years to when I'd attended therapy as a child. Sleep hadn't come easily to me then, the night time just bringing back all the horrors of that fateful night that I'd watched my dad die. My therapist had taught me some simple relaxation and breathing techniques and I did them now, focussing hard on slowing my inhales and exhales, trying to clear my mind but it was no use. Van flooded my thoughts completely.

I sighed, getting purposefully to my feet and stepping across to the large gilt framed mirror. My reflection stared back at me defiantly, daring me to judge. I could do this. I was strong. I just needed to get my head straight. I didn't need Van to satisfy me... or any man for that matter. All those guys that I'd picked up and fucked, I hadn't needed them. They were just a means to an end... but to what end? Much as I told myself I was in control of my life I was starting to doubt it more and more each day. That niggly feeling that the only reason I craved these encounters, each one more sordid than the last, was because I was dead inside taunted me. I just needed something or someone to make me feel alive again. And Van made me feel alive.

I sank back down on to the silk sheets once again, letting my thoughts stray to forbidden territories. In my mind's eye Van hovered over me whilst I lay prone on the bed, his hands fixed firmly around my wrists, securing them over my head whilst he slowly pushed my thighs apart with his knees. The piercing look in his eyes told me that I was his to do with as he pleased and the thought shivered me through with a desire so strong that I pressed my thighs together to ease the ache I felt there. I squirmed on the bed, frustrated beyond belief, eventually pushing myself up, feeling angry for not being able to control my feelings. It was getting worse, steadily worse, and each encounter only made me crave him even more. And what happened next time? Would I still feel the same with a gun pressed against my head or a knife held to my throat? I had to stop this now or it would be the death of me, I was sure of that.

I quickly unpacked, then showered and selected my attire for the evening. Even though I was on a dangerous mission I would still have to blend in with the other guests. My hands danced across the underwear sets that I'd packed, coming to rest on a beautiful deep red set with intricate lace detail I only ever wore when my aim was to seduce. I slipped into it, telling myself that I'd only chosen it tonight because it went perfectly with the red silk evening dress I'd planned to wear. The dress was stunning, with a plunging neckline and a deep slit from the floor right up to my upper thigh. Last but not least I lifted up the dress, securing a special thigh holster which I slipped a small, discreet handgun into.

I stepped back, perusing my reflection once more. I really did look the part... now I just needed to feel the part. I needed to take control of my life, do the right thing for once. I could do this. I had to do this. I was ready.

#ice cold #van mccann fanfic #au fanfic #vanfic

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bookishjules · 1 year ago

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18, 12, 22!

12. Talk about a new friend you made this year

while i was working as a barista toward the beginning of the year, i had a coworker who i got on really well with. she's nice and fun and respected the systems i needed to work efficiently hehe i started introducing her to pjo by bringing the books in one by one for her, but when i quit she still wasn't done with the series, which was good because it kept up hanging out regularly to swap books. we got piercings together in august, auditioned for the play we're now both in together (and proceeded to get absolutely shitfaced afterward while having some of the best conversations). she started writing poetry again because i shared some of mine with her. i stopped by her apt randomly one night when i was in her area and just wanted a friend to talk to and she not only let me in, but was happy i stopped by--her husband too. oh yeah and i love her husband and he's a big fan of me and my friendship with his wife bc apparently we were both needing someone like each other this year <3

18. A memorable meal this year?

omg the diner in canada for sure. this was when i was driving back from detroit with a stranger bc we both had flown one leg of a flight before apparently the weather and spirit airlines made it impossible for us to get on the second leg until like 48 hours later. and this girl was 19 and ready for an adventure, so we drove across the river into canada without passports just to go to this burger place bc google said they had vegan burgers for me. while we were sitting there eating, we made friends with this rowdy group of 35-45yos who apparently went to this diner together all the time. they were very drunk and very fascinated by the fact that we were from the states. they were like.. why are you here?? but they were really fun and the burger was yummy and my new friend and i thought it was hilarious. if we hadn't had to get back on our treck to nyc, we probably would have stayed with them and ordered some drinks ourselves haha

22. Favorite place you visited this year?

when my brother came into town in january, i finally got to visit the top of the empire state building!! and while it isn't as high, or have as good of views, as the top of the rock, it still felt momentous. like we were right under olympus!!! 12yo me would have lost her shit hehe it was fucking cold tho. the wind that day was brutal.

end of the year ask game <3

#sorry these got so long jeez..#ask game #meli 🦉#<3

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skaruresonic · 1 year ago

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Does your tribe have a written constitution? I know the Quechan tribe did since the 60s cuz I did research on them for a Landscape Arch class, but I heard it was inconsistent amongst other tribes given how destabilized things got. Still sucks how ass it is to vote for this country with the lack of poll booths and PO Boxes

If you consider wampum "written," maybe. But if you mean "written" as in pen and paper, then no.

Our laws are the laws of the Haudenosaunee, and the main law the Haudenosaunee have is the Great Law of Peace, which is orally recited every year. Last year some of my classmates went to Wisconsin to hear the Oneida recite Great Law.

That's not to say we lack all forms of documentation; many, though not all, of us carry tribal cards. They're based on the Jay Treaty which says Haudenosaunee people and First Nations people are allowed to freely cross between Canada and the US.

In addition to being an indicator of tribal enrollment, red cards should theoretically allow us to travel without forcing us to rely on US passports.

The catch, however, and what makes things annoying, is very few if any places recognize our tribal cards as valid forms of ID, even the places that arguably should, like the Rainbow Bridge between the US and Canada. Crossing into Canada is always a crapshoot because most guards don't give a shit and won't let you cross without a passport.

New York only officially recognizes Akwesasne (St. Regis) Mohawk tribal cards. They don't recognize Tuscarora tribal cards, and that's the reason I was unable to get my permit the first time I went to the DMV. It didn't count as a point of identification, and so I lacked enough points to pass qualification requirements needed to take the test.

---

Still sucks how ass it is to vote for this country with the lack of poll booths and PO Boxes

We're lucky in that we have a... semi-working mail service, but the more embarrassing issue is takeout, tbh. Sometimes restaurants will deliver to just one side of the rez but not the other. Or the delivery person will stand by their car and refuse to walk up to your porch because they binged too many true crime podcasts and think they're gonna get murdered over a pizza lmao.

Re. voting: a lot of us don't vote, which is another issue of tribal sovereignty.

People have a huge stick up their ass about not voting, and they like to wax poetic about how you're a fascist if you don't. But honestly, it's really not that simple an issue for us because we have to grapple with the very real possibility that if enough of us register to vote in US elections, it sends the federal government the message that we don't consider ourselves a sovereign and self-determining nation. That we consider them our government instead. And that could potentially give them grounds to disseminate us.

That's always a slippery slope no matter what because the government wants any excuse it can take no matter how small, but it puts a lot of onus on us to not rely on them as much as possible. As a result, we tend to neglect a lot of shit that most Americans would balk at, like discarding census requests, not getting a passport, and not voting.

My aunt chewed me out merely for registering to vote at the DMV. (Apparently Council keeps tabs on everyone who registers. As if I needed any more reason to call myself a bad Indian, lmao.)

Granted, I haven't voted since registering, but... She really laid into me over something I incidentally did while getting my permit because everyone rags on you about how you really should vote, right? So I wasn't really thinking about it and she got big mad lol.

#asks #skaru:re

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