#everything spins around americans i'm tired

[bat-the-misfit]

oh no

[careless-with-your-heart]

My Favorite Fic Monday (Fringe AU!)

This is chapter one from my favorite fic to write, I'm Found in the Water. It's a rated-E AU where Peter grew up in the redverse. I haven't had enough time lately to work on it/finish it, but it's still in the hopper! It's currently at 16 chapters and 43k at AO3. It features Walter reading hardboiled detective fiction to Gene, an insomniac Peter who swears and flirts a lot, and Olivia, who is unknowingly infiltrating Peter's dreams across universes. Oh, and there's the pesky problem of how Olivia has just kidnapped him to the blueverse to help save the world.

Full here: Click Click Click, and Chapter One below.

***

Peter’s skin is on fire. Not the pleasurable, touch-of-a-lover kind of fire, but the exotic-ants-and-fever fire that he still remembers from childhood—scalding and torturous, still vivid in his mind nearly thirty years later. The fire burns in a way that makes his mind white out. But he can’t move, can’t search for relief, can’t do anything but let his head loll back against the soft upholstery behind him. Everything in him regrets the decision he’d made just an hour ago.

The air around him is thick with smoke—so thick, in fact, that Peter has to squint to see the young woman passed out next to him on the dark, velvet settee. It could be that the squint is also an attempt to try and focus his reeling head, to bring down the speed of the spinning room. He isn’t quite sure which reason causes him to lurch in his less-than-sober state, only that he’s suddenly turned his head and squinted. The room slows, a bit. The girl becomes a less-hazy outline.

He can’t remember her name, but he can recall that, after they’d met in the bar at his upscale hotel, she’d led him here in exchange for an absurdly low sum in American dollars and his promise that he would pay for the night’s party favors. He’d assumed she meant drinks, maybe a joint or two, after which he could stumble back to his hotel and pass out—hoping against all odds to sleep a dreamless sleep.

This is the best club in Erbil, she had said. Very exclusive.

After an hour of lounging on the very settee he now found himself unable to get up from, drinking strong, anise-scented arak, and smoking honey-soaked tobacco from a tall, ornate hookah, a man had walked by them, speaking low, rushed Arabic to the girl before disappearing into the shadows of the club. The girl—Peter now remembers that her name is Amira—had leaned over Peter, a knee on either side of his hips, her dark eyes distant and glassy with liquor. He’d thought for a moment that she was going to kiss him, and he’d put his hands up to cup her shoulders, his pulse kicking up despite the fact that he was blitzed-out-of-his-mind drunk. 

She was beautiful, curvy, with dark hair and red-stained lips, and those lips had hovered over his, so close that he’d been able to smell the arak’s licorice perfume on her breath.

“Pay him,” she’d whispered, the words gliding out of her mouth to traverse the hot, dry air between them. He’d licked his lips, causing her to draw back slightly.

“What?” he’d rasped. Was she asking him to pay for her company? In all his years of using his father’s money to escape, he’d never paid for sex. The thought that he might have stupidly gotten himself into a situation where he’d have to decline this girl’s services irked him. He considered himself savvier than that.

Maybe it’s lack of sleep. Eating up all those big, beautiful brain cells. It was true, in part. The IQ that his father was so proud to have passed on didn’t function well on two hours a night of fitful rest.

“He has DMT,” the girl explained, sitting back so that she could cup Peter’s face. “Do you know what that is?”

He’d shaken his head. In the soft haze of his intoxication, starting to tire, he’d tipped his head to the side to rest more heavily into one of her palms. She’d slapped him lightly on the cheek, which had startled him momentarily half-sober. He’d batted her hands away and rubbed his own palm against one stubbled cheek, glowering.

Her laugh, low and promising, turned out to have nothing to do with sex. “It’s a drug, pretty boy. It lets you choose your dreams.”

His fingers had stilled against his jaw, and his breath had caught. “Choose? How?”

Choose to not see her? Choose not to wake tangled in empty sheets, arching blindly into the imagined silk of long, lithe legs? Choose not to wake reaching for the ghost with wide green eyes, who had haunted him now for what seemed a lifetime?

The ghost knew his name. She whispered it across his skin and into his open mouth, and she followed the two syllables with fingertips he could almost—almost—feel and taste, if he was caught in just the right place between conscious and not.

Amira had shrugged, rocking back to settle on his knees. “I don’t know the magic. Only the magician.”

Peter had followed the toss of her delicate chin to where the mystery man sat, just across the room.

“How much?” Not that he cared. It was Walter’s money. He just needed to know how much cash to untuck from his wallet to regain control of his dreams. Because he needed the ghost girl out of his head.

Amira named a price that he suspected was double the going rate. That was okay. Peter was often on the take, too, even if it was just for the thrill of things. Peter had handed the cash over and watched his temporary friend as she’d disappeared into the smoke.

She’d come back with a small baggie and a big smile.

That had been an hour ago.

Now, Peter sits in the redolent air, and the fire will not go away.

He lets his eyes slipped closed, willing his breathing to slow, balling his fists against the crawl of heat over his chest, his neck, his cheeks. Every breath gets harder and harder to draw.

Suddenly, relief floods him. There is a brush of cold against his forehead, and then the press of a palm that spreads the chill down both of his cheeks.

“Peter,” she says. Not Amira.

Oh, it’s the ghost. Fuck this drug. It’s only making her realer, adding insult to injury against his fever-ridden flesh. “No,” he groans. “Go away. Let me sleep.”

“Peter, open your eyes.”

The blessed relief of the fingertips against his throat makes the fever retreat briefly—Peter imagines it as the same sensation as falling through thin winter ice into the clear, startling cold that lay below. His eyes fly open.

The ghost kneels in front of him. Her wide, plush mouth, the one that he has plundered in endless loops in his own private hell, is pinched in a tight line. Her brow is furrowed. He can see the worry in her startlingly verdant gaze.

And in that moment, it comes to him, inexplicably. The name of the ghost, which he’d never known before this very moment. It comes out on a rushed breath, and he reaches up to grip her hands, which are still at the open neck of his shirt.

“Olivia.”

Beneath his grip, she is solid. He doesn’t know how it is possible, but his ghost…she’s real.   

[djavlaalskadeunge]

Letter 16

“Culver city

12/16/25

My little Mimosa.

Thank you for your letter it was welcome believe me. Remember that everyone must have their sorrows. You little Misse, It pains me because I understand you so well, how terrible and difficult it is. You know the stubborn wins - or so the saying goes.  

That day may not be so far away when you get paid for your hard work. Then Nisse becomes very well and you get married. Then he stays healthy from love alone. But it's sad that no one can be truly happy. If you knew how much I miss home. I'll probably fade away one fine day. I wrote that I was getting married. I still can't describe anything further in a letter. But I'll probably never get married. You have to believe that it spins around in my head sometimes just by accident. I don't want to see anyone. You will hear how I make my first film. Up clock. 6 and home at 6 or 7 in the evening again. Crashed in my bed and can't sleep sometimes. And alone, alone. God it's terrible. This ugly ugly America, all the machine it is, is soul-killing to the highest degree. I never go out at night, just go home to my boring little hotel. Never dress so people here think I live on starvation wages. I give up on everything soon. As long as I had a little money, I went home. But coming home without it - the old boring waltz begins. The only thing that makes me happy is when I can walk down to the bank and send something home to my people. I could go to Hollywood and Los Angeles, it's only an hour's drive there, but I don't want to meet all the movie people, drink alcohol and talk about things I don't want to talk about.

I also think that you become so ugly in this climate, by the way, everyone thinks so. So it's a bit dangerous. They are very curious about me here at the studio, it is said that they all look and ask just because I am new, you see. And I don't look at them because I'm so tired they think I'm a freak. Got a big and handsome role which is rare here, but I feel so boring so I guess I can't play that well, I'm curious and worried about it. You must think that all the gloss we surround the American film with at home is dim here. There isn't a trace of glamour or style here.  

Lasse H. and Karin are now installed here. Lasse will start against Lillie Gish for V. Sjöström. I have only met them a few times. Einar H. is here and has broken the contract with Metro. Goldwyn so I don't know what he's going to do. I'm not that taken with him Lars Saxon, you know will be here at the beginning of January I hope I have finished my film so I have time to see him sometime. Isn't that funny? We were quite a lot together in Stockh. He was very decent, I thought, so I'm glad he's visiting. Isn't it terrible Misse, but I never look at any men: but of course not at women either, I would never be interested in them. For me, there is only my old Moje, isn't that right? I'm going to be a little "widow lady" What do you say about the appropriate word? Can you make a trip here - it's a wonderful sea trip and the trains to Califor. Are also wonderful, you'll live with me. Then I would like to go out and look for pleasures. But the trip will be expensive and you probably don't have time. But it was a recreational trip for you. I don't know at all what you're doing right now. If we sat on N.K. or Strand by a cognac and pretend to talk. I feel locked out of paradise when I think about it. Thanks o fate, in any case we had small happy moments. Wait when I get home. Ohhh. I'm going crazy thinking about it---so I guess I'll have to stop thinking. Write again soon gossip about everything for me o soon. You are a little looming cloud for me that I hope to reach in time! Pretty? Greetings to Karlstadshemmet. ——————Gurra."

[coatlscoatlseverywhere]

Hi! I'm Catherine!

(Long post, I tend to "write books" as they say! 😅)

I'm a Cis, white, Autistic, American, Asexual/Apothisexual, (whoops! Been spelling it with an E, Apothesexual is different!) adult (26 currently!), Aries, introverted female who started playing in February of 2019.

I'm a member of the Wind Flight!

I'm Lola96 #450127!

English is my native language, so it's the only one I can read and speak/type!

EST +3, but usually a night owl, it fluctuates from day to day, week to week, and month to month!

More info about me can be found with this pretty Imp!

Linktr.ee!

(I have an older Tumblr account somewhere with at least two blogs on it that I created years ago, but forgot the password to! 😅

Edit: Found em' but deleted the account, I like this one better!

I love the FR community!!!)

I came from a site called Pokéheroes.

I haven't played any gen 8 games because I don't have a Switch, so I'm not versed in anything SW/SH/don't have a particular attraction to most gen 8 mons.

I wasn't raised with LGBTQA+ stuff, though I knew of being Gay/Lesbian and thought I was Lesbian because I didn't know about Asexuality until I was an adult!

(Never acted on it, so I haven't really found what I like other than being Ace!)

Though I have also learned you can be Ace, but still want to be with someone, you can still be Bi, straight, gay, lesbian, pan, poly etc...Romantic and sexual love are two different things!

So I'm Ace sexually, but may be Bi or Lesbian romantically, if that makes a lick of sense!

So pardon me if I'm a little old fashioned with some things/misgender stuff.

I'm good with the sexuality stuff for the most part, but most other things make my head spin!

Also, I CAN get aggressive, so if I "roar in your face", I usually mean no harm/don't take it personally!

I have trouble wording things, and have less of a filter when tired as well.

I usually don't tag stuff unless its my post/the previous person had a TW on there, it will fluctuate, and I usually prefer to re-blog with a comment in the comments section to using tags if I have something to say.

More under the cut!

My other blogs!

CatOfAces- side blog for most everything else!

Mostly SFW I guess!

Not going outta my way to be 18+/raunchy in any way! 🤢

Clan of Mikiwing- Ask blog of sorts inspired by other FR blogs of this style/Pokémon askblogs.

(I usually keep my boxes open!)

(Most things with Lola Breon, a pink Umbreon/shiny Latias with shape shifting/color shifting powers among other things should be me, as she's my first OC created in 2015!)

Back to FR stuff!

Hatchery! -I sparsely update this. Usually putting dergs on the AH.

Hatchling Sales Tab! - Kept by Henry, kiddos I breed will be up for grabs here!

Adult Sales tab- Kept by Harmony and Josie- they're wives!

Get yer grown-ups!

G1 sales tab!- Kept by Lianna, she's a bit on the prissy/persnickety side, but she cares for those who have no parents.

(Check the den too!

General Hatchery Tab, usually the last tab is up for grabs, but the two I have in there atm are not for sale!

G1 tab-Some may be up for grabs.

Liz is named after a family member so she's off limits!

There may be G2 adults and G1's in there somewhere, hmm, perhaps I'll make a den sales tab someday?)

Prices may be a little scattered, but I'll usually accept anything over fodder price, which to me is 8,000t/8g and up!

I believe I have Dyscalculia and need prices written out so I can check my vault/a calculator.

Thusly I'm not good at conversions! 😅

I DO have a wishlist if you would prefer items!

Art is also good!

Clan greeter/Directory!

Jays Subspecies!

I have a thing for common eyes, Shadow Unusal being an exception, along with primal of course! 😜

All my dergs, unless clearly stated are Cis, most being straight because I haven't played around with LGTBQA+ too much!

[the-scribe-and-her-scribbles]

Oh My God! They Were Roommates - America’s Route

Read the intro HERE!

Damn, this thing is long. I write all my stuff on a seperate program and this thing is 7 pages!!!!! At the end, there will be an Author's Note where you can read all my ramblings and thoughts that I had while writing this chapter over a week as well as things about upcoming chapters.

Please Like, Reblog, and Follow this blog for more content. Also, let me know whose route you would like to read next! I was thinking about Canada or maybe France. Thoughts?

From the crowd, someone raised their hand.

America.

"I mean come on guys. Are you really that surprised?" Alfred said with an awkward chuckle.

XXXX

A year earlier a girl moved in with her American friend in Washington. 

"Are you sure this is okay?"  (Y/n) asked, looking around the living room of Alfred's house. He laughed and warmth rose to her cheeks. "I'm serious Alfred! I don't want to freeload!" 

"And I keep telling you, you aren't. This was my idea in the first place!" She places her bags down on the carpet of his living room. This was it. This was her home for the foreseeable future. "I'll take your bags up to your room. Are you sure this is all of it?" He asks, lifting the suitcase and duffle bag off the floor with minimal effort. 

"That's everything! I didn't have much when I moved to D.C." She said.

(Y/n) and Alfred had settled into a comfortable routine. Whoever woke up first made coffee, they cooked meals together and their nights were spent lounging on the sofa. 

Alfred never knew how more 'homely' the house felt with (Y/n) in it. Not until coming home from a world meeting a couple of months later. It was raining cats and dogs outside. Alfred has almost slipped on his front step and barely saved himself before stumbling through his front door.

“Woah! It’s really bad out there!” A voice that wasn’t his called out.

Alfred looked up and saw (Y/n) standing in the kitchen with an apron on. Oh, she was too cute. "Well? Quit standing there all wet, get that coat off!" She says as she turns back and sways around the kitchen. 

"What smells so good?" Alfred remarks. 

"I made mac n' cheese."

Alfred lets out an excited gasp and rushes forward with a grin. He scoops (Y/n) off the ground. He spins them around the center of the kitchen and she lets out a shriek. “Oh my god, Al! Put me down! Put me down!” She laughs. “You are the best! Greatest roommate ever!” He shouts out, still wrapped around her before he places her back down onto the floor. “Get bowls and utensils out!” She batts him away and Alfred laughs. As he pulled the white bowls out of the cupboard and sets them down on the table, he tries to ignore the butterflies bouncing around in his stomach.

Later the two had moved into their living room to finish their meals. The T.V. was on with the volume down, providing the only source of light in the room. (Y/n) had fallen asleep. Her finished bowl of mac n' cheese was tipped over on its side on the floor.

 Alfred, however, was still awake. He hadn't been tired. Being a country, his body didn't need sleep like a human's would. Al glanced over. His roommate's hair was messy, her face was smushed against the arm of the coach and Alfred felt those butterflies again. "Oh no," he whispered. He was getting attached.

XXXX

Alfred and (Y/n) were quite similar in some ways. While (Y/n) certainly wasn't as hyper, she was social. She enjoyed people just as much as she loved being alone. She could talk and talk and talk. With her, the conversation was never boring or forced. Alfred loved this about her ….. most of the time.

The bass of the music could be felt from outside the club Alfred and (Y/n) were at. When they walked in, the lights were flashing and bodies on the dance floor where bumping. They looked at each other and grinned before joining in.

As the night when on, they left the dancefloor to get drinks. They found a booth over in one of the corners of the club. Before long, (Y/n) had struck up a conversation with three more people, a girl and two guys. Their new group of five was chatting away. They all decided to leave the club, far more interested in talking than dancing now. 

Sitting in the bar, they drank for hours more. One of the men who had tagged along with them, Alfred couldn't even remember his name now, was listening intently to (Y/n). She talked and talked and the guy just kept staring. Alfred watched as his eyes swept from her eyes, down her body and back up to stay focused on her lips. The country let the breath he didn't know he was holding in flow out through his nose and swallowed the bitter lump that had manifested in his throat.

"Hey man, we're headed out," said one of his friends. 

He waved them off and said, "Head on without me," before turning to (Y/n). "You don't mind, right?" he gave a smile that made Alfred's blood boil.

(Y/n) smiled. “No, it’s fine.” 

But (Y/n)’s admirer had caught Alfred staring and had been leveled with an icy-blue stare that said, "It’s time for you to take your leave.” Alfred leaned toward (Y/n), lingering over her while holding the guy's gaze.

 "Uhhh, actually…" (Y/n)'s new friend slowly leaned back. "I'd better get going too." "Oh come on, man!" (Y/n) whined. "No really. I've had a bit to drink and I have uh... work tomorrow. I'll see you around (Y/n)." 

“Good man,” Alfred thought in a sing-song voice.

XXXX

“You’ve been living with a human for a year? Why haven’t they moved out?” A country asked.

"Attention, please!" The liaison says, pulling the focus back to her. "Our superiors are willing to let you discuss the actions that need to be taken regarding America's roommate. This is a problem that will affect every nation, so you must decide what to do,"

“It’s clear what we have to do,” England says in his infuriating accent. 

“No,” America bites out. 

“America, she can’t stay with you-”

"SHE!" Someone, probably Austria, spits out their drink. 

"Shit." Alfred didn't want that to come out. He glared at England before he realized that he never told anyone about his roommate, especially that they were a she. Even the representative hadn't told anyone that.

Alfred thought back to what the liaison had said at the beginning: "It was brought to my attention by a fellow nation-" and America realized, "It was you!".

“America, don’t be dramatic!”

“You told them! I should have known!”

"What was I supposed to do?!", Arthur tries to defend himself. 

Alfred sucks in a breath and the fire in his eyes only brightens. "You SHOULD have minded your own business!" Around them, gossip had returned with a vengeance. Whispers of the human girl in America's home were being passed through the seats. Why was she living with America? How did England even discover this roommate?

XXXX

After the unwanted friend had left the bar, Alfred and (Y/n) has stayed behind for a little while longer. Unbeknown to the pair, another blond man with emerald green eyes and a bushy eyebrow was walking down the street.

Arthur Kirkland, the personification of the United Kingdom was in town for some meetings between his country, America, and Canada. After a long day at said meetings, England shared the same idea as America had that day, and decided to go out and grab a drink. As he walked by a bar and looked into the large pan window, he immediately recognized the other nation. 

America sat with a very pretty woman leaning into her and laughing in the way that only he could. "That little bastard," is all Arthur could say when he heard him tell his companion that, "He thinks she's had enough" and that "It's time for them to go back to their house,". Arthur connected the dots.  

That night when England arrived back at his hotel room, he made a phone call to their UN representative.

XXXX

“I couldn’t just let you put our kind in danger.” Arthur declared. The righteous look on his face reminded America of when he was England’s colony. 

“Nothing is in danger. I’m very careful around her. She has no idea what I am or what I do!”

“And we’re supposed to just trust that? So you can keep your human pet?” Arthur seems to spits out those last two words.

“SHE’S MY FRIEND!”

Alfred’s voice growls out, “She’s important to me, so she’s staying!”

Before he storms out of the room, leaving it in silence.

Romano's voice interrupts the quiet tension. "Great fuckin job, asshole! Now what do we do," England leans over and puts his head into his hands, taking deep breaths. 

"Alright then," Canada announces. "I'll talk to him, but I doubt that I'll be able to convince him to kick the girl out. We need a different solution."

Arthur looks up at Mathew. “What did you have in mind?”

XXXX

Alfred storms into his house, stewing with anger. From the sofa in the living room, (Y/n) peaks up from the book she’s reading. “What’s wrong?”

 Alfred doesn’t say anything. He just stomps over to her and flops down on the sofa, slumping over her legs.

"You're not a pet." He grumbles. 

"I know?" (Y/n) was just confused now. 

"You're my friend." He flips onto his stomach and looks at her as if he needs to clarify this to her.

“I know. Did something happen at work?” She asks. 

The blond rolls back over onto his back, still laying on her legs. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

XXXX

“They want to what?” 

“They want to meet her.”

Alfred and Mathew sat in a fancy restaurant in D.C. The noise of people chatting and enjoying their dinner is all around them. Mathew had told Alfred that the rest of their nations had decided to make a deal with Alfred.

“They said that if they can meet her and decide that she isn’t a threat to international security, they will let her stay, so long as she is kept completely unaware of your real identity for as long as you live together.”

Alfred narrowed his eyes. “No way-”

“Alfred, for once in your life, think!” Mathew snaps out. “They won’t let her stay if they think she’ll give everyone away. This is your best option.” Mathew was right. “Besides, I’m sure that If you’re so taken with her, the others will like her just as much!”

That’s what I’m worried about.

Later Mathew calls their liaison. “America said that he’ll do it.”

XXXX

The countries of the world decide that the next meeting would be held in the U.S. and that instead of introducing (Y/n) to everyone at a conference, which would be overwhelming, the rest of the G8 nations would meet her at a restaurant in D.C. From there, the seven would decide if it was acceptable for Alfred’s roommate to continue living with him.  

The next month, the meeting took place and after they went to a restaurant called The Purple Pear. It was smaller and while classy, was far more casual than some others in the area. Alfred chose it because (Y/n) and he had been there before, apparently for her birthday. Whispers about this were echoing around their co-workers. The nations truly did love to gossip, and America's secret roommate was at the front of it these days.

The 8 countries sat at a table in the back area of the restaurant, tucked away from everything and they waited. 

Germany was getting impatient. ̈America, If she's late, I swear to god- ̈

“Relax dude! Here she comes, ̈

From the large front window, they see a woman slowing to a stop at the door. She's very pretty, with bright eyes and a smooth walk as she steps into the restaurant. She smiles at the hostess and scans the room. Alfred smiles and stands up and waves her over. She seems nice. She wasn’t nearly as childish as England was expecting, or as loud as Japan thought she would be. The two of them made their way back to the table as Alfred talked animatedly with her.

France cleared his throat. “Alfred, aren’t you going to introduce your friend?” He gave a flirtation wink but the woman only raised her eyebrows. She obviously wasn’t as easily charmed and the women Francis was used to.

“Good afternoon, Gentlemen!” She greets warmly. “My name’s (Y/n).”

“Ciao bella! My name is Feliciano Vargas!” “Oh Lord, here we go” is all Alfred could think. The north Italian man's cheerful greeting set off a chain reaction.

“You’re so pretty!”

“How old are you?”

“Where are you from?”

“You idiots!” The brit calls out. “Let her sit down first!”

(Y/n) laughs as she settles into her chair. “It’s perfectly alright, I’m glad everyone’s so excited to meet me,” She says. 

“But of course! When we ‘eard zhat Alfred ‘ad a pretty roommate, we were all curious.” 

“Ya, he must be quite a handful, eh?” Mathew adds in.  

"Bro, what the hell!" 

(Y/n) laughs even harder. "He is like an over-excited puppy sometimes," She admits. 

"(Y/n)! What the hell!"

She continues, stifling down her giggles. “I hope you don’t mind, Mathew, but,” She turns to face him. “Are you and Alfred twins or just brothers? Alfred wasn’t ever clear on it.”

"Uhhhh, we're just brothers. He's a couple of years older than me." Mathew's answer is vague, but (Y/n) doesn't notice it and moved on to talk with Feli, who is ever so desperate for her attention. 

"Why did you decide to live with Alfred, bella? You couldn't have rented an apartment by yourself?" "There weren't any apartments that I could afford that were close enough to my work and Al offered to let me stay. It worked out really well actually!" "And what do you do for a living?"

The conversation went on and Alfred took a step back to watch. (Y/n) talked enthusiastically with everyone and the personifications just kept on asking her questions. She told them about the jobs that she worked, where she lived. Francis wanted to know where she bought her clothes. He loved her style. Everyone seemed to be pretty at ease. Maybe everyone except Ludwig and Arthur, who were still a tad weary of the human girl.

How long had it been since some of them had been around any regular human for this long a time? Years? Decades? When had they become so withdrawn from the citizens they were supposed to protect? Was living with a human who was so full of spark wrong? Was it wrong for Alfred to feel so protective over one girl?

Alfred was so nervous when Mathew said that everyone had wanted to meet her. He was so used to it just being the two of them in their own little bubble in their own little house. Alfred didn't want that to change. He tried to tell himself that he was doing it to protect her. He knows that was bullshit. He just didn't want to share. He didn't want to lose her. But trying to keep you away was pointless. You were as containable as the wind. Heaven and all her angels knew that (Y/n) would find a way to weasel into every part of Alfred's life, even the part he was trying to keep secret.

XXXX

After lunch, Alfred and (Y/n) left to go home. Instead of taking a cab, they walked. Everyone else stayed behind and began to talk.

"Well, she was nice..." Canada says as he looks around smugly. They all nodded their heads. "And she doesn't have a clue about us..." Mathew continues. "And Alfred is very fond of her…" 

Germany looks at Mathew and is visibly conflicted. "But.. the rules,"

“Oh please, how long has it been since any one of us looked as happy as he did with her,” Canada defends. Francis joins in. “He’s right you know..”

After Germany stews in his thoughts for a few moments, he gives up. “Fine, tell America she can stay.”

“Fantastico! Does that mean I can have one too, Germany?”

“Nein!”

AUTHOR’S NOTES

Holy shit this was long! I hope everyone enjoyed it because it was a blast to write. I had a headcanon that Alfred would really like Macaroni and Cheese because Thomas Jefferson loved it and brought it to America in the 1800s. Jefferson even served it at State Dinners! Isn't that wild! Alfred and Thomas Jefferson would have spent plenty of time together since Jefferson won the presidency in 1801 (I believe). It would probably remind him of his old boss and hold a special place in his heart.

I also like to characterize Alfred and a very two-sided character. I picture him as super kind, energetic and heroic, but also very intimidating and full of wrath.

When I was writing this, I also tried to plan out in more detail the other routes so that I can try and keep them relatively unique to one another. I don’t know how well I will accomplish that though!

[bumblesimagines]

Dangerous

Part 3

(Y/N) glanced up.

"Why him? He's a nobody." (Y/N) looked at them.

"Polly said that he's the nicest. Killing him will send a clear warning to the Serpents." Cliff told him.

"You'll start a war." (Y/N) said. "A war that we'll win." Polly stood. He took in a deep breath, looking at Polly.

"Polly, step outside." Hal said. Polly nodded, leaving the office.

"We want him dead by the end of the week. If not we'll take care of him ourselves and you'll face the consequences." Cliff threatened. (Y/N) nodded, spinning around and leaving the office, nauseated. He felt someone grab his arm and dig their nails into him.

"I know you're seeing him. You're going against-" (Y/N) pushed Polly away.

"Shut it, Blondie." He snapped, walking down the hall. He made his way to the club, entering. Evie looked up.

"My chérie!" Evie greeted, hugging him.

"How have you been?" She asked. (Y/N) sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Not good, Ev. Not good at all." He sighed. Evie frowned.

"Come, come. Sit." She pulled him towards the bar and sat down.

"Tell me. What's wrong?" Evie crossed one leg over the other.

"I met a boy and now they want me to kill him." (Y/N) summarized. Evie frowned.

"Those little... Oh, what was that word?" Evie racked her brain for the word she was looking for. Her eyes lit up and she slammed her hand on the counter.

"Cocksuckers!" (Y/N) cracked up as Evie grinned.

"What will you do?" She asked, tilting her head.

"Warn him. I'm not gonna hurt him." (Y/N) shrugged. Evie nodded, tucking a strand of her wavy hair behind her ear.

"Go! Save your prince and make him a king!" Evie ushered him out of her club. (Y/N) got into a taxi, telling him to go to the southside. He got out of the taxi and made eye contact with Fangs. The male's eyes lit up and he darted up from his seat, practically throwing himself into (Y/N)'s arms. (Y/N) gave a tired smile that Fangs caught.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"They gave me a target. It's you." (Y/N) said softly. Fangs stared at him, processing the information.

"If I don't do it, they'll do it themselves." (Y/N) glanced at his friends. Fangs rested his head against (Y/N)'s chest.

"This is how Lukas died, right?" Fangs asked softly.

"Yeah." (Y/N) nodded, looking at the tan male. Fangs swallowed.

"I'll be fine. I have my friends to protect me." He said, looking up at him with a small smile. (Y/N) sighed.

"You're too positive." He mumbled making Fangs chuckled.

"We should stay away from each other for the week until this blows over and the Lodges do something to annoy the Black Hoods." (Y/N) said. Fangs frowned but nodded, kissing him softly before stepping back. (Y/N) nodded to Fangs friends and got back into the taxi.

A week had passed and everything was calm. Apart from his phone blowing up with calls and texts from Cliff, Hal, and Polly. (Y/N) eyes sweeped over the crowd below. He saw a flash of sliver and the next thing he felt was a strike of pain and fire as a gunshot echoed. Evie screamed, rushing over to her friend.

"(Y/N), chérie, stay with me. Someone call 911!" She screamed at the shocked bystanders.

"Who should I call, chérie? Come on, talk to me, (Y/N)."

"Fangs." He wheezed out, keeping his hand on the wound. Evie furrowed her brows, bloody hands fumbling for his phone.

"Americans and naming their children dumb things.." She whispered, finding the contact name.

"Hello?"

"Fangs? This is a friend of (Y/N). Hold on, did somebody call the fucking cops?!" She screeched. A woman hurried up the stairs and over to them.

"I'm a doctor." She explained. Evie nodded.

"(Y/N) got hurt-" Evie tried to explain the situation as calmly as possible. (Y/N) wondered if all his victims felt. Maybe it was karma. Everything was a blur. The voices of the doctor and Evie were faint as he stared up at the flashing lights. He flinched when a wet hand hit his forehead.

"Sorry, chérie." Evie apologized.

"Your boyfriend is already at the hospital. His friend got shot too." Evie explained. (Y/N) grunted, hearing the sirens.

Fangs paced the hall, heart racing. He wasn't expecting a call from a french woman and he sure as hell wasn't expecting her to tell him that (Y/N) got shot. He needed fresh air. Fangs left the hospital, taking deep breaths. He bumped into a blonde woman.

"Sorry, ma'am." He apologized. She seemed oddly familar.

"Diatraction." She glared at him. Fangs furrowed his brows.

"Huh?" He felt a prick on the back of his neck and hissed, holding his neck. Fangs turned his neck, blinking when his vision turned blurry and he grew dizzy. He felt someone drag him into a car before blacking out.

Part 4?

What are your thoughts on Evie?

[oh-little-owl]

Since this was in my notifications recently, I realized I never updated playlists on here. I might make another post to organize them all, but a little while ago my old playlist account was hacked and deleted [without me noticing, lol], and so I made all new fancy playlists for most of my stories.

Here is the updated Cut from the Cloth playlist, now with nerdy extras such as: a cover image, and a list of titles and meaningful lyrics + their corresponding chapters (in my head)

~titles/chapters and meaningful lyrics under the cut~

(chapter 1)

When I Dream of Michelangelo - Counting Crows

You know I don’t like you but you want to be my friend there are bodies on the ceiling and they are fluttering their wings it’s OK, I’m angry, but you’ll never understand when you dream of Michelangelo they hang above your hands

*

(chapter 6)

Secret Meeting - The National

I think this place is full of spies // I think I’m ruined didn’t anybody, didn’t anybody tell you? didn’t anybody tell you // this river’s full of lost sharks? I know you put in the hours // to keep me in sunglasses, I know and so, and now, I’m sorry I missed you I had a secret meeting in the basement of my brain it went the dull and wicked ordinary way

*

(chapter 8)

Signaling Through the Flames (Film Edit) - The American Dollar (instrumental)

*

(chapter 10-11)

Dizzy on the Comedown - Turnover

Up and down like a red rubber ball you're always back and forth like the clock on the wall I wanna know about you // I'm spinning all around you

If I stay // do you think that we could change your routine? I know a trick // I've always got a few up my sleeve This life is controlled confusion It's just the grand illusion

*

(chapter 12)

May I Have This Dance

We are bound to inherit // the sins of our parents and all the people we passed through now we're down to the last two

May I have this dance?

*

(chapter 14)

Slow Show - The National

I made a mistake in my life today everything I love gets lost in the drawers I want to start over, I want to be winning way out of sync from the beginning I wanna hurry home to you put on a slow, dumb show for you  and crack you up so you can put a blue ribbon on my brain  god, I’m very, very frightened, I’ll overdo it

*

(chapter 19-20)

Shake it Out - Florence + The Machine

Regrets collect like old friends here to relive your darkest moments I can see no way, I can see no way and all of the ghouls come out to play

And every demon wants his pound of flesh but I like to keep some things to myself I like to keep my issues strong it's always darkest before the dawn

*

(chapter 21)

Time on Her Side - Future Islands

she’s a garden rose and blossoms head to toe and even when she leaves her golden shadow stings I can’t beat it every time she goes cuts me even deeper if only I’d the strength to go like she does but she’s got time on her side and she’s free to decide because she’s got time on her side to be young is divine

*

(chapter 22)

What a Good Boy - Barenaked Ladies

afraid of change afraid of staying the same when temptation calls we just look away this name is the hair shirt I wear and this hair shirt is woven from your brown hair this song is the cross that I bear bear with me // bear with me // bear with me be with me tonight I know that it isn’t right // but be with me tonight

*

(chapter 23)

When I Get My Hands on You - The New Basement Tapes

when I set my eyes on you  gonna keep you outta town at night when I set my eyes on you not gonna be outta my sight

and now you know everywhere on Earth you go you’re gonna have me as your man

*

(chapter 25, Hotel)

Hurt Less - Julien Baker

Oh, leave the car running I'm not ready to go it doesn't matter where I just don't want to be alone and as long as you're not tired yet of talking, it helps to make it hurt less

this year, I've started wearing safety belts when I'm driving because when I'm with you I don't have to think about myself and it hurts less

*

(chapter 25, Father McDonnell)

Be Still My Soul - David Nevue (instrumental)

Be still, my soul! thy God doth undertake to guide the future as he has the past. Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake; all now mysterious shall be bright at last.

In case anyone was wondering what the soundtrack of Cut From the Cloth is… here ya go! 

This feels kind of goofy to post, kinda like making up questions for a FAQ, but eh. 

I basically count this as the working outline for the story, as I put this together long before I even thought I’d write something. I listened to it and tweaked the succession for a while before putting together the story that would go along with it. I’m still not 100% on the flow as it links to the story (it sort of bleeds into my idea for the next part too), but this is where it’s at, and I felt like posting it.

~titles and meaningful lyrics under the cut~

Keep reading

[artificialqueens]

Sad Boy Chapter 1 (Biadore) - Splatt

A/N- So, I’m just gonna go ahead and warn you all now that this is my current angst outlet. Thanks to C*nt for reading over this and helping me with the name! Without further ado, here’s my superpowers AU!

Bonnie Noriega’s last pregnancy was eventful to say the least. Not because she or her little baby, Danny, was unhealthy, but because strange things kept happening. Bonnie was told at eighteen weeks, that her baby boy could now hear, and she and her family should start talking to him. She was told he wouldn’t respond for another month and a half, but could hear her nonetheless. At eighteen weeks, she would talk to her baby, and her children would talk to their brother, and things around them would vibrate. She dismissed it as pregnancy brain at first, but the weeks went on, and she eventually ended up back at the doctor. The doctor at first didn’t believe her, but still asked if Bonnie could demonstrate, so she sat in the uncomfortable doctor’s chair and sang to her baby until the paper roll that lined the chair started slowly spinning. The doctor asked her to keep going and started up the ultrasound machine.

“He likes to listen to music. He really moves things when I play music for him.” Bonnie told her and fondly rubbed her stomach, making the roll stop moving.

_-_-_-_-_-_

Baby Danny always seemed to be into things he shouldn’t have been. Bonnie would go out shopping with her infant son, and brightly colored objects would fall into her cart or into his hands. At two, he learned how to get a cookie out of the cookie jar from across the room, and he got a spanking when Bonnie realized that all the sweets in the house were gone. At five, he started school, and he was warned that he wasn’t allowed to move anything unless it was directly touching his hands. His siblings teased him by calling him “Brujo” until Bonnie sat them down and told them that Danny was just different, and that’s okay. Danny just took the name as a compliment and threw small objects at his siblings heads whenever their mother wasn’t paying attention.

He went through middle school and high school with only a few mishaps. He ended up switching schools halfway through seventh grade because of a little temper tantrum that ended with pencils stuck in walls and ceilings, and a stapler floating threateningly in front of one girl’s face. They soon learned that there was a strong connection between Danny’s emotions and the manifestations of his abilities consciously or subconsciously.

At home, Danny tested his mental strength in more ways than just homework. He learned that he could lift heavier objects with his mind than his body, but he would get migraines that lasted for hours or sometimes (in the case of the time he moved his mother’s car) even days the same way people would get muscle aches after a vigorous workout. He regularly pushed his siblings across rooms and stacked things on them while they slept just to see how softly he could set things down, or if other people could somehow feel his telekinetic touch (It turned out they could feel a pushing sensation just like if he was actually touching them).

He learned that he had more precise control if he moved his hands like he was moving whatever object rather than just following it with his eyes or willing it with his mind from another room. He also learned that there was a limited radius, and unless he knew exactly where the object was in relation to himself, he couldn’t move it if he couldn’t see it.

He found that solids were the easiest to control, but it wasn’t impossible to move liquids or gases. He sat with a glass of water in front of himself for hour perfecting picking up the water from inside the glass in marble sized drops and bringing them into his mouth, and it was always hilarious to him that he could send clouds of fart into his siblings’ faces if he concentrated hard enough. When he started smoking, he used it as a way to do cool party tricks and control the wisps of smoke to contort into different shapes.

He learned pretty quickly how to control himself, and after the stapler incident, the only times he really had any trouble with things flying off of walls or into people or just kind of floating was when he had panic attacks. He managed to control it through American Idol and through Drag Race and shows and gigs and meet and greets and so many other high stress situations, and he didn’t tell anyone through all of it.

That is, until he was sharing a hotel room with one of the other queens one night during the BOTS tour.

Roy sighed and got up to go to the bathroom while Danny tossed and muttered in his sleep. When he came out, he swore he felt hands on his shirt pulling him towards Danny’s bed. He let out a short scream and struck at the empty air in front of him, but once he realized no one was there, he wrote it off as his tired mind playing tricks on him and quickly made sure Danny was still across the room asleep before starting to his own bed again. But yet again, he felt the sensation of hands pulling him towards the younger queen. He looked down at his shirt and his jaw dropped when he saw the front of it being quite literally pulled by some invisible force towards Danny. Roy began to silently panic, and Danny did much the same in his sleep. Tossing and turning turned to thrashing, and the pull on Roy’s shirt got stronger, making him jerk forwards and fall onto the end of the boy’s bed.

Danny jerked awake and yelled. The alarm clock on the night stand between their two beds flew across the room along with a pen and pad of paper, and an empty drawer in the dresser across the room. Roy was pulled up and into Danny’s reach.

The older queen scuttled backwards, nearly falling off the bed, but Danny held out one hand and made a fist, and Roy stopped mid-fall. Danny gently pulled the fist closer to his body until Roy was upright again and fell back, himself, to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I had a nightmare, and I just… I’m sorry.” Danny rambled. “Are you okay? Did anything hit you?”

For once in his life, Roy Haylock was speechless. He looked around at the mess across the room and down at his shirt again to see if it was still being tugged outwards. He looked back up at Danny and made a helpless, panicked noise in his throat.

Danny shook his head and laid back down. “I mean- there must have been an earthquake. Are you okay?” He turned away from his friend’s questioning eyes and buried his face in the pillow.

“There was… My shirt. What the fuck, Danny?” Roy smoothed out the wrinkles in his tank top and tried to form coherent phrases again.

“Just go to sleep, Roy. It was an earthquake, right?” He pulled the blanket over his head defensively.

Roy looked back at the clock and the drawer and then to all the things in the room that hadn’t moved. “Earthquakes don’t just affect some objects. What the hell just happened?”

Danny pulled the covers around himself tighter. “I had a nightmare. Just let it go, okay? Go to sleep.”

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” Roy asked. “This is a dream. That explains it. I’m still asleep over there.” he nodded towards the empty bed.

Danny sighed. “Sure. You’re still asleep. Now let me sleep, too. It’s late. Or early. I don’t know, the clock is all the way over there.”

“Maybe you should pick it up, because that’s the only thing that’ll wake us up on time, and if I’m not dreaming, I’d really rather not be late tomorrow.” Roy suggested. “But I’m pretty sure I am dreaming.”

The clock floated up out of the corner and back onto the nightstand. Danny poked his head out and plugged it back in manually before resetting the time and the alarm. “There. Now go to sleep, Haylock.”

Roy gaped at the clock. “Danny, am I dreaming? Please tell me I am.”

The boy hesitated.

“I’m not, am I? You just moved that without touching it. You didn’t even look at it. Were you pulling me to your bed before?” Roy stood up, but a weight on his shoulder and back pushed him back onto the bed.

“Please don’t be scared. I’m the same Danny.” He sat up, and the pillows behind him adjusted themselves to support his back against the headboard.

“I'm… I have to go.” Roy quickly scrambled to stand up and open the door, but Danny slammed it shut again.

He got out of the bed and held his hands up in surrender. “Roy, please don’t run away. I’m not going to hurt you. Think about it. Where are you going to go when you leave? We’re stuck on a bus together for the next two months.”

Roy shook his head. “I’m going to Shane’s room. I’m sure I’m dreaming right now.”

This time, Danny let him go. When the door closed behind him not quite slammed, but definitely more forceful than it needed to be, Danny broke down. He laid back down on his bed facing the empty one where Roy had been only a few minutes before and let the tears come.

His mother had told him this is what would happen if people found out, but being a romantic, he had said everything would work itself out when they found out, and he hadn’t believed her.

In that moment, the rose colored glasses cracked and faded. Roy left him. He would tell everyone.

Danny was alone.

[theheavymetalmama]

Katie, enough! I'm tired of you constantly bashing the Marvel Cinematic Universe. I know you think the DCEU can do no wrong but Goyer has dropped the soap once or twice himself. Just because none of the Marvel movies has won an Academy Award (*cough* dirty bribe *cough*) doesn't give you the right to post dozens of long articles on why Marvel "doesn't get Groot". Now if you excuse me, I still have a bunch of anonymous posts to send to your mailbox bitching how your opinion is always wrong!

I will happily stop posting about how the DCEU could take a comic nobody likes and turn it into a billion dollar hit while Marvel can’t even get the Captain America right when Marvel pulls its’ head out of its’ ass!

I mean come on, Jenni, do you and I even watch the same movies? Okay, granted, that first Batman movie starring Karl Urban hasn’t held up very well and the second one focused so much on world-building and character introduction that the story about Bruce dying from Venom-poisoning kind of got lost, but at least we got more of Amanda Waller after we first saw her waiting for Bruce in Wayne Manor. And come on, even you have to admit that Catwoman taking out that whole squad of goons while Alfred spent the whole time fighting that one guy was hilarious. Yes, that Flash movie in between was fun but skippable and everyone was nervous about Barry being recast with Aaron Paul, but once the first Wonder Woman movie and Superman: Earth’s First Defender came out and all of it culminated in ‘Justice League’ the gamble paid off. Now they’re turning properties nobody gives a shit about into superstars!

Compare that to Marvel. They made a Captain America movie after DC’s ‘Justice League’ spanked the X-Men as the highest grossing comic book franchise, and honestly…it was okay. Not great, it had problems, but the casting was solid, it had some decent performances and a few great action scenes, and what flaws it did have could have been ironed out in a sequel.

But we didn’t get that sequel. Instead, Marvel panicked because Captain America only made enough money to buy nine luxury yachts instead of ten, and then that following ComiCon Marvel announced that sequel…but reading one of Tony’s lines from Civil War. From there, it was just one red flag after another. The casting, the characters that would appear, the set-ups for future movies, it was absurd! They had to introduce Iron Man, introduce Pepper Potts, introduce Jarvis, introduce Baron Zemo, Thor was making an appearance, the Hulk, War Machine, and new versions of Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver were all playing bit parts, and they were setting up for the Avengers. They tried to do in two movies what DC did in five, and did it work? Hell no! Tony was an insufferable ass, Captain America was barely in the sequel to his own movie (he didn’t even get top billing!,) there were more dream sequences here than there were in Nightmare on Elm Street, there were pointless subplots that had nothing to do with either character, and despite being the main driving force behind the plot we never get a clear idea of who Zemo is or what he’s about. First he hates superheroes just because, then he’s mad at his abusive daddy, then he’s got some weird hangups about god, then he’s barking about some unseen alien force in the distance, it was a joke! And for a movie titled “Iron Man v Captain America: Dawn of Avengers” there’s not a lot of Iron Man vs Captain America in it. They only share maybe a scene and a half together the big title fight, and the fight only lasts for like eight minutes! And really, Maria? THAT’S the big twist!? Because Steve’s old girlfriend’s daughter was in trouble and she just so HAPPENED to share the same name as Tony’s dead mom? Come on! Oh yeah, and then Cap dies! They killed Captain American in TWO MOVIES! It wasn’t even a heroic sacrifice, he just randomly got stabbed by Abomination! Then the movie expects us to be all sad that Cap’s dead even though audiences didn’t have a chance to connect with him? Fuck right off!

Compare that to DC. They didn’t even start talking about adapting ‘The Death of Superman’ until they were nine movies in, and even then they didn’t get around to it until they had 13 under their belt. Seeing Superman die at the hands of Doomsday wasn’t just tragic and hard to watch because they slowly beat each other to death, but because we had seen him in five previous movies plus a few spin-offs where he was the invulnerable boy scout. Now there he was barely able to stand as this big monster who mowed through the Justice League and half the US military is just tanking everything thrown at him. And the funeral. Talk about real heart-wrenching stuff. Seriously, that shit gave the deaths of Mufasa and Littlefoot’s Mom a run for their money. Especially when Bruce holds face the whole time while everyone else mourns and says their last goodbyes. Then in the after credits scene we see Batman come to Superman’s grave, say his piece in that same old Batman voice and tone. Why wouldn’t he? He’s Batman. But then the whole audience is shocked when, after Bruce says his piece, he turns around and the audience sees that his face is soaked with tears…then we fade to black. Powerful stuff. You think people would have had the same reaction if they just jumped right to it in the second movie? Hell no!

And since those movie’s came out, Marvel has been on non-stop damage control. They made a shitty Thunderbolts movie that was at least enjoyably bad, but bad all the same, there’s a Thor movie that will maybe make things seem less doom and gloom, and now they just dropped an Avengers trailer that looks like more of the same dreary and portentous gray and brown filtered garbage they’ve delivered before, only now there’s a crappy cover of a decent rock song in place of the faux-Wagnerian bwam-filled noise that was found in previous Marvel movies. And now they announced like 15 movies! Marvel, we don’t care how MANY movies you make, we just want you to make GOOD movies! Slow the Hell down and put the same time and effort that DC puts into their extended universe, and then people will like you. And for fuck’s sake, stop hiring people who either don’t understand or share open contempt for your characters to write, direct, or consult for them!

In conclusion, I’ll stop ranting against Marvel when Marvel stops making shitty movies! Good day, ma’am!

Oh, and a Happy April Fools Day to you too. :)