#he wanted to check my bag because I didn't get inside the supermarket from the normal entry

[yvesbuprofen]

maybe I'm manic babes

[nakachuchu]

Strawberry Mochi | Fushiguro Megumi

SYNOPSIS: You get lost in the supermarket.

READER: bimbo/himbo! gender neutral

WORDS: 1015

WRITTEN: 04/08/2021

NOTES: Thank you for requesting from my event! The anon followed up, saying they meant #14: "Could you not follow me around like a lost puppy?" This imagine is basically tsundere Megumi with a bimbo/himbo.

You were in love with Megumi to the point where you'd do anything for him, but he didn't want that.

He didn't want you to dictate your life around him, even though it felt nice to be loved. He loved you too, but he refused to tell you until you got your head out of your ass.

"Do you hate me that much?" you questioned.

You were a cry-baby, and it had Megumi sighing and huffing each time you were on the verge of tears.

"Y/N, I don't hate you."

Your bottom lip trembled at his monotone voice, even though he sounded like that most of the time.

He sighed and placed his large hand on your head in an attempt to make you feel better. It seemed to work since you sniffled and stopped the tears from falling.

"Really?" you questioned.

"Yes."

You grabbed his wrist and forced his hand to pat you on the head. After a few moments, you calmed down.

" 'm hungry. Can you buy me strawberry mochi?"

"Fine."

You smiled, traces of your previous sadness gone. You held onto Megumi's uniform from the back as he walked forward, leading you off-campus and to the supermarket that sold your favorite strawberry mochi.

He checked often to make sure that you were right behind him since you had a knack for getting distracted and disappearing.

He thought he was safe once he got to the display case of various flavors of mochi in the corner of the supermarket, but when he turned to ask you how many you wanted, he found that you had disappeared.

He sighed and apologized to the worker before walking away, trying to find you in the excessively large supermarket.

He started from the first aisle and made his way down each aisle until finally stopping at aisle fourteen—the candy aisle.

He felt stupid for not thinking of checking the candy and snack aisles first because you naturally gravitated toward them.

He immediately walked forward quickly once he saw a man cornering you against the shelves of candy.

"Y/N, come here," Megumi demanded.

"Oh, there's my boyfriend. I have to go now. Have a nice day!" you exclaimed as you slipped out from the man's body and walked over to Megumi, grabbing his uniform again.

Megumi glared at the man before leading you toward the mochi section, making sure to keep an eye on you this time.

He ordered a box of six strawberry mochi for you and paid. You smiled as you held onto the paper bag with the mochi inside.

As the two of you left the supermarket and onto a less busy street, Megumi turned around.

"Stop wandering away and stop letting strangers around you. It's dangerous," he scolded.

"But he was just being nice—"

"He wasn't," Megumi retorted, shrugging off your hand. "Could you not follow me around like a lost puppy? It's annoying."

You clenched your hand and brought it down to your side. " 'm sorry."

He felt a twinge of regret and guilt but turned around and huffed, walking away from you. He wasn't used to feeling this way. He didn't know how to act around you.

You were left alone in the middle of the street, clutching the paper bag of strawberry mochi. You sniffled and wiped your tears away with the back of your hand.

You didn't understand why he disliked you so much. You didn't understand why he agreed to date you if he was so disgusted by your presence.

"L/N, are you all right?"

You lifted your head at the sound of the voice, then noticed it was Itadori. Your bottom lip trembled before you let out a wail, shocking both him and any passerby's.

"Megumi—Megumi h-hates me!" you sobbed.

Itadori was out shopping for things to eat and happened to see you standing there. He didn't think you'd suddenly start crying.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Aw, gee. I don't think he hates you. He loves you in his own way. He even punches me every day but I know that's how he sees me as a friend."

You sniffled. "That sounds sad."

"I guess."

The two of you fell into a silence. He brought his hand up to placed it on your head, making you look at him.

"I'm sure Fushiguro misses you," he reassured.

"Really?"

"Totally!" he exclaimed with a bright smile. "If I had someone as cute as you, I'd totally miss them all the time!"

You smiled. "I am cute, aren't I?"

"Yep!"

After noticing you weren't following after him like you usually were, Megumi returned for you. He knew he told you not to follow him, but he didn't think you'd take him seriously.

He stopped walking to see Itadori comforting you with his hand on your head and your bright smile. He narrowed his eyes for a moment before walking forward.

" 'gumi?"

He grabbed your arm, pulling you into his arms and away from Itadori. You looked up at Megumi, confused.

"We're going back, Y/N. I'll see you later, Itadori."

"Mhm."

As Megumi dragged you away, Itadori let out an exasperated sigh. He wasn't the best in relationships either, but even he could tell how much Megumi loved you, despite his cold attitude.

"Megumi, what's wrong?" you questioned.

You were hurriedly walking after Megumi. He was dragging you away by the hand and you could barely keep up with his long strides.

The paper bag of strawberry mochi was dangling on your wrist, rustling and bouncing around as you did your best to keep up with your annoyed boyfriend.

"You're mine. You know that, right?"

"I am?" you questioned.

He scoffed and glanced over his shoulder at you, then squeezed your hand. "Of course."

You grinned and clung to his arm. "I love you, Megumi."

"Whatever."

Despite his cold tone, you could see the faint pink on his cheeks, making you chuckle.

“Let's share the strawberry mochi,” you suggested. “Will that make you feel better?”

“I wasn't sad,” he muttered.

“I never said you were.”

[teebarnes]

✨ | A Bad Day

Click [100 Followers Fic] for the rest of the 100 follower fics :)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader

Summary: You had a bad day at work and Bucky knows that, so takes this chance to brighten your bad day.

Word Count: 2k

Warning(s): Fluff, crying... I think that's about it.

A/N: Thank you for 100 followers! Plus, I mean, who wouldn't want Bucky to comfort them after a bad day? (GIF isn't mine)

⤑ Click here for my taglist to be notified when I post my future fics.

Any Likes, Comments & Reblogs are super duper appreciated :))

Locking the door behind you, you lean yourself against your door, sliding to the floor. Tears flowing down your face, you pike your knees up you to the chest, wrapping your arms around them. It was another one of those awful days at work, your face hidden in the nook you made. You slowly sobbed to yourself, trying to express the bad day you had quietly into your house as if it could listen.

The quietness of your rural home thickened the sound of your tears; you sigh deeply into your knees, attempting to catch the breath you longed for. Then, calming yourself, you wipe the tears with the end of your jumper before hearing your phone ring. A few sniffs holding the fact you were crying, you check your phone to see it was your best friend calling.

"Yellop", you softly chime to your best friend on the end of the other line. You can hear an audible laugh. "Yellop doll, how was your day?" The voice you always long to hear at the end of your days. "U-usual", you softly chocked out before continuing ", how about you, old man? How was your day?" You giggle slightly at your remark.

A long pause extended your conversation with him before he broke the silence with a soft laugh through his nose, "usual, same since we last spoke", you smile, getting up, taking the conversation to your couch. Hearing his voice had taken away any sadness you had before you even picked up the phone. "Hey, I'm coming over. I need your help," he says, which piques your interest.

"What does a 107-year-old man need my help for? I'm sure you have all the life experience you need," you joked; Bucky gasps ", ouch, my feelings… they're hurting because of you", he laughs, causing the two of you to roll your eyes at each end of the line. "May I ask what you need help with?" You sat up from the couch, eagerly waiting for his reply.

A steady silence homed their conversation for a few seconds "a date y/n… there is this beautiful woman I want to ask on a date." He sighs.

Your face drops slightly, tears rushing down your face again like the ones before. Quickly wiping the tears, you answer, so Bucky doesn't worry "a date, huh? Since when do you socialise" you half-laughed to yourself sadly. "well… doll. You see, I don't if I'm honest," you both laugh, waiting for him to continue. "But… she is amazing, beautiful, the most incredible person I've met", he boasts to you over the phone.

You couldn't help but wallow in your thoughts for a bit, wishing that it were you he was talking about. But you knew that you two were just made to be the best of friends; despite how you felt towards him, you knew he could never feel the same. It took you a while to collect yourself when Bucky spoke again, breaking your train of thought. "Doll?" Your eyes focus again on your surroundings, coming back to the reality that you wanted to run away from right then and there. "Doll, are you there?" He asks again; you clear your throat "yes! yes… sorry, yes I am." You coughed.

"I am happy for you, Buck! She will be so lucky to have you." You stand up from the couch walking into your kitchen. "I am the lucky one, actually…" he replies softly. You smile at his reply only to realise the context of the conversation before answering back to him, "Well… are you sure you need my help? I feel you have all of that covered. I don't think I could be of much help to you, Buck." You held the phone between your shoulder and your ear as you opened the fridge up to check what was for dinner tonight. "I most certainly do doll. You are a vital part to getting this right," he excitedly says; you could never turn him down.

Even after being his friend for over ten years, you still couldn't say no to him. "Geez, Bucky, you really are serious… I'll have you know, though. I haven't had a boyfriend since I met you, so I'll only be able to give you basic pointers," you laugh to yourself. "Doll, don't worry about it… as long as you're there, that's all I need." He swoons. You couldn't help but laugh, "see, buck, with that attitude, I think she will say yes." You lightly say, "plus, have you asked Steve? I'm sure he has better advice to give," you question. "Yeah, I did… no help there", he laughs.

"Okey dokes, well I'm going to take my shower n stuff… you've got a key so you can let yourself in, alright?" You say, continuing to push through the built-up tears and emotions that halted at your throat. "Okay, doll! See you shortly," he says "see ya, Buck" you smile, hanging up.

Not knowing it, but your world fell before you; you didn't want to lose Bucky to a woman he hasn't even told you about. Then again, you cared for his happiness, that is what he needed after all the trauma he had been put through. You shook off the tears sucking up the pain into your stomach, heading to take a shower.

~

Bucky��s POV

"How do I tell her, Steve?" Bucky groans, pacing around the living room, "I love her so goddam much, but I am afraid to lose her. What if she doesn't like me and only sees me as a friend-"Bucky is cut off by Nat, who is sitting on the other side of the couch reading a book. "Bucky, I am going to slap some sense into you soon. She is head over heels for you." She sighs, getting up to leave the room. Bucky continues to pace again, with Steve closely watching.

"Ask her on a date Buck. Go from there," Steve lightly says, leaning back into his seat. "Hey doll, I know we've been best friends for ten years now, but I just wanted to let you know that I've fallen in love with you since the day we met", he frustrates into the palm of his hands. Steve chuckles a bit, "sounds about right", he snorts. Bucky wide-eyed to his oldest friend. "Ahaha, so funn-" he is cut off with a buzzing in his left pocket.

Reaching in, he picks it up "oh, it's just Sam" he rolls his eyes, answering, "what's up, Sam?" Sam sighs "have you talked to y/n recently?" He asks, which immediately makes Bucky furrow his eyebrows "no, why? Has something happened?" A pause before Sam speaks, "Can you check on her, please. She had a rough day at work. I have a feeling she is not at her best at the moment." Bucky's eyes dull hearing that the woman he's in love with is sad "okay, on it. Thanks for letting me know, Sam", he let out a sigh. "I've given her the week off, but please check." He sternly asks. "You have my word Sam" Bucky hangs up, turning to Steve.

"She had a bad day at work…" he frowns before plopping himself on the couch. "Well, buck, this may be a good opportunity to take her out on a date? Or even have a sneaky film night?" He stands up, patting his friend's shoulder. Bucky gives a slight grin, nodding, "Thanks, pal".

Steve walks out of the room, leaving Bucky alone with his thoughts, "okay okay okay, I can do this, I can do this." He hypes himself up, taking his phone pressing your contact that he had on speed dial.

"Yellop" Bucky hears on the other end of the phone; he couldn't help but melt to the sweetness of your voice. It was one he loved so much. It wasn't unusual to call each other; it was a religious routine for the both of you. If one didn't call, the other would. But this time, it was different; Bucky was nervous; it has taken him ten years to work up the courage to ask you out. But he still couldn't, not without seeing your face, not without being able to hold you as he said he loved you and not without comforting you first. He knew you didn't want to burden him with your troubles, so he took it upon himself to make up an excuse just to see you.

After the call, Bucky knew that you'd been hiding your emotions just to have your usual conversation with him. He felt even guiltier when he went on and on about you but never had the guts to tell you that he was talking about you.

Bucky packed a night bag from his room, packing it onto his motorbike before making his way to the local supermarket that was on the way to your house.

He picked up some of your favourite snacks and a bunch of your favourite flowers, securing them on his bike before riding to your house. Then, turning his bike off, he left it parked in your garage, heading inside. He closed the door behind him, walking into the kitchen laying the snacks on the table before heading down the hall into your room. He could hear the shower running and knew you were still in there.

He could hear you singing a soft melody of your favourite song; Bucky smiled, took his shoes off, and set them at the door in the hallway. Bucky flopped onto your soft bed with the flowers he had for you hidden on the bedside away from the bathroom door so you wouldn't be able to see them when you'd come out.

Finishing your shower a few minutes later, you wrapped your hair in a towel. Drying yourself and popping on your oversized henley, the same one Bucky had given you all those years ago when you had nothing to wear the first time you slept at his. You put some undies on and Van's socks. Using the dryer to dry your hair, you fitted your thick hair into a messy bun with your black scrunchy. "Alright", you took a deep breath before heading out to see Bucky lying on your bed.

"Oh, Buck! Hey," you smiled at him. His head was comfy on the bedsheets; he turned to see you, a bright smile upon his face. "Hey, doll," he noticed straight away that you weren't wearing any pants, something he was used to but not used to at the same time. You'd always make a fuss over going to bed with pants on; you hated wearing pants to bed. So you just opted for socks. "So", you sigh, flopping on the bed next to him. "Who is the girl?" You asked, turning your body to the side facing him. He chuckled, rolling over the edge of the bed, coming back to meet you, your favourite flowers in his hand; you both were face to face.

"You"…

~

You look at him, jerking your face back a bit in surprise but totally melting seeing the flowers. "M-me?" You reply; Bucky smiles, brushing the hair from your face nodding, "It's always been you y/n." His arm caressed your cheek, and you couldn't help but rest yours on his. You kissed the inner of his hand before taking the flowers leaving them on the bedside table.

"You know how long I've wanted to tell you that I love you" you smiled almost in tears; wrapping his metal arm around your waist, Bucky pulled your body close to his "And you know how long I've wanted to say the exact same thing" he rested his head against yours "I am in love with you y/n, I've loved you ever since I met you". You sniffled, cupping his cheek before leaning in, kissing his chapped lips; he leaned into him, kissing back "and just when I thought I was going to have to let you go, you prove me wrong," you chuckled through your tears.

He chuckles with you. "I couldn't tell you on the phone. I had to be here. Plus, Sam told me you had a bad day, so I wanted to be with you." You smiled, giving him the biggest hug. "Thank you, Buck. Thank you for doing this" he kissed the top of your head.

"You're welcome, love", he smiled.

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

Sebastian Stan's Taglist: @buckyswintersoldiermask @lharrietg @buckyfan12 @afraid-to-be-me @fairityretro

[lauwrite1225]

Somebody to die for.

Finan x OC; The Old Guard inspired Alternative Universe

Summary : Victoria’s life is rather simple until she has a car accident from which she ends up miraculously unscathed. A series of weird events animates her daily life, everything seemingly bringing her to a strange man. Until this very man knocks at her door.

Spotify Playlist • Masterlist

A/N : Happy F- SIHTRIC SUNDAY!! I'm so sorry for the time it took to publish, but I had a lot of classes and the person that proofread my chapters usually was very busy, so i have to thanks @osferth for proofreading this week💕💕 Anyway! There it is! Thank you so much for all your comments and likes and so sorry again for being late D: 💕

Warnings : mention of deaths

Chapter 7 : Je suis le roi, le roi des cons

“Are ya sure it’s here?”

“Yes I am. I saw the name of this supermarket and there’s no one else around.” 

Finan sighs annoyingly, leaning back in the driver’s seat, his fingers drumming impatiently on the gear level. They have been waiting in the back parking of the Carrefour for three hours now, looking for the woman they are suspecting knows Osferth. They arrived in France two days ago, and Victoria couldn’t help the surprised look she gave to Finan when she realised how good he was speaking french.

“French women find the accent sexy when I speak french and others find speaking french hot.” He explained after they asked their way to a woman who gave him a gracious smile after. 

“Oh, a real benefit then.” She commented, pretending to be impressed, even if she might be part of the other women.

Finan grinned broadly. “Indeed.”

Another thing that this time didn’t make her laugh, was Finan’s skills when it comes to stealing a car. She never felt more nervous than when he asked her to check if no one was coming while he was trying to start the car. 

“Maybe she doesn’t work today.” He mumbles under his breath but Vicky ignores him when she spots a woman coming out of the back door. 

“Oh Christ, I think it’s her.” She exclaims, taping Finan’s arm to have him look. 

The woman walks away from the door, looking at her phone while searching something in her bag. “Alright, I'm goin', stay in the car.” He says, opening the door as Vicky rolls her eyes, tired of always having to wait in the car. 

“Bonne chance!” She tells him with her best french accent, looking forward to how he'll convince the woman to tell them where Osferth is. (Good luck!)

Finan rolls his eyes and closes the door. She immediately opens the window to try to hear something, even if she doubts being able to understand half of the conversation, but at least their tones would give her a clue on how well it's going. 

“Excusez-moi de vous déranger!” He calls the woman and she immediately looks up to him with furrowed eyebrows. (Sorry to bother you!)

Victoria leans forward, trying to see the woman's expression as Finan and her talk. She seems on her guard, looking around and her hand playing with her car's keys. She shakes her head and starts to walk away but Finan catches her back, grabbing her arm. Doubting he will succeed with how reluctant the woman is, she opens the car and joins them, taking her sketchbook with her. When he notices her approaching, the Irishman lets go of her arm while she studies Victoria with the same distrust that she has for Finan. 

“She says she doesn't know him.” He grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I don't know who the hell you are talking about.” She confirms with a light French accent, though she keeps staring at Vicky awkwardly. 

Victoria opens her sketchbook to a page where she drew Osferth and her on the next one. She gives her the work and her eyes widen. “You must know him, because he does know you.” She says in a soft but nonetheless determined tone. 

The woman hesitates, looking between the two strangers and then back to the drawing. “How did you do that?” She asks Vicky. 

“I've been dreaming of him, just like he probably does dream of me, right?” She tilts her head and at how the woman bites her lip, she knows she's right. Through her dreams she has learned that Osferth and she are close and that he told her his secret. Finan keeps thinking it was risky to trust the woman, but Vicky is confident. 

“Are you like him?” She asks carefully, Vicky and Finan nodding immediately. “What do you want from him?”

Vicky glances at Finan for some sort of approval before answering. “He may be in danger, we need to talk to him.”

She runs her hand through her hair before giving back her sketchbook to Vicky, her expression conflicted between mistrust and worry. But she eventually sighs and accepts. “Alright, follow my car.”

Victoria huffs in relief while Finan mutters something in Gaelic. She stretches out her hand toward the woman with a kind smile. “I'm Victoria, and this is Finan.”

“Sophie.” She replies before they separate to join their respective cars. 

Vicky can't help but smile widely once they are on the road, excited by the idea of meeting others like her. She dares to hope that this time, no one will die as when she met Finan. The thought amuses her and she turns to him to remind him of it, but she changes her mind when she notices how tensed his jaw is, his thumb tapping the steering wheel frantically. He is nervous again, like he has been since they arrived in France. He hasn't seen his friends for centuries and she supposes that he fears their rejection. Though she hopes that her presence could ease possible tensions. 

When they stop at a red light, Victoria reaches for his forearm, her palm grazing over it until her thumb can rub the back of his hand. He turns his head to her and she didn't expect his intense dark gaze to leave her breathless. However she doesn't look away and gives him the most reassuring smile she is able to make, her fingers squeezing his wrist. 

“It's going to be alright.” 

His features seem to ease at her words and he let go of his grip on the steering wheel to shift his hand and grab hers, but before he can, the light is green again and a car behind urges them to move. Victoria removes her hand, looking away as she becomes aware of the heat in her cheeks. 

They don't talk for the rest of the way. They quickly are driving through the countryside, still following Sophie close, and Vicky finds that it isn’t so different from England.  After twenty minutes, she takes a small dirt road that makes the car tremble. They enter a thick pine forest and she has to hold the handle above the window’s door while the car struggles in the mud. But finally they reach a small clearing, an old stoned house standing in the middle of it. Sophie stops her car while a man, alarmed by the engine noises walks out of the house. The french joins the blond man and exchanges a few words that confuse him. Victoria gets out of the car and who she now recognizes perfectly as Osferth looks at her with wide eyes, but it's nothing compared to how his mouth drops when the driver door slams and he stares at Finan appearing behind her. 

“Finan?” Osferth calls him, disbelieving. 

The Irish warrior stops a few steps in front of Vicky, a tight and shy smile on his face, his eyes not daring to meet his friend's one. “Hi Baby Monk.” He greets him, waving his hand. 

Osferth huffs a laugh before crossing the gap between them until he takes him in a strong embrace, letting Finan frozen by surprise for a second. He wraps his arms around his friend's shoulders, holding him tightly and Vicky can't help the way her heart melts at the scene. 

“You are alive.” Osferth breathes, his hands holding Finan. 

Finan chuckles. “I can hardly die, Osferth.”

The blond man opens his mouth, but finally gives him an awkward smile. Then, he turns to Victoria, studying her intently with his clear eyes. “How did you find me?”

Finan glances at Vicky, giving her a grin before looking back at his friend. “Through Victoria's dreams. She is just like us.”

Osferth makes another huff and softly smiles at her, which she gives another huff. “I thought it wasn't real.” He blinks a few times before motioning and designating the house. “Come, come inside.”

Osferth leads them inside, and Vicky can't help but whisper 'I told you' to Finan before they pass the front door. He rolls his eyes, but keeps smiling, so she squeezes his arm gently before taking place at the table Osferth points at. Sophie brings them glasses of water and finally sits next to Osferth, quite close in Vicky's opinion. 

The former monk, if she believes what Finan told her about him, leans forward, his hands joined upon the table. “So, how did you two meet?”

Vicky puts down her glass. “Well, Finan followed his dreams, just like we did for you. One day he knocked at my door and killed himself in my flat.”

She can feel Finan offended glare at how she foretold their meeting. “That's a really short summary.” He comments, pointing a finger at her but speaking at their hosts' attention.

Vicky waves her hand. “The most important lines.” 

Osferth and Sophie only nod slowly, the story sounding really strange in just a few words. Though, the blond shakes his head and turns to Vicky with a hint of curiosity making him narrow his eyes. “But how long have you been immortal? We've traveled all around the world and we have never found someone else.”

Vicky hesitates, so much happened in so little time to her that she isn't sure anymore. “Hum… About two months.”

“Oh… So you died in the car accident?” Osferth raises his eyebrows until she nods in agreement. “And, why are you here?” He asks, this time looking at both of them alternately. 

Vicky glances at Finan, his smile now gone, and clear her throat. “Maybe you've seen it, but we've been attacked.” 

“We don't know who they are but they were searchin' for Victoria, and they knew that she is immortal even if she talked about it to no one.” Finan explains, his hand moving with the glass still in it.

Sophie gives a sort of gasp and she grabs Osferth's hand. “You think they could search for us too?” The monk frowns.

Finan shakes his head and presses his index on the table. “I don't know, but if they've found her, they can find y'all too. You need to warn Uhtred and Sihtric, to tell them to be careful.” 

“I can't warn them.” Osferth answers after a heart beat.

This time, it's Finan who frowns, letting go of the glass. “What?” He leans forward after a blink. “No, you must know where they-”

“I can't warn them, Finan.” He cuts across him. “Because Sihtric is gone and Uhtred… Uhtred is dead.”

The sudden silence is thick as Victoria falls breathless at Osferth's words. She can't believe what he said and she has to keep herself from asking him to repeat it. But the monk's tight expression, his jaw twitching and lips pinching, is enough to prove her that she heard him well. 

“What? How's that possible?” Finan asks, confused.

“We don't know, but it did happen.” Osferth answers, looking down.

“When?”

He opens his mouth, searching words and Sophie holds his hand tighter but still tenderly. “It was during the Second World War. We were going to save prisoners from German soldiers. We were just the three of us, but Uhtred was determined and sure it would go as we planned. But it was a trap, there were no prisoners. So we ran away, they were shooting at us and we got separated. It took me two hours to find Sihtric. We searched for Uhtred and when we found him, he still hadn't come back.” 

He makes a pause, taking a deep breath while tears roll down his cheeks, a reflection of those on Finan's face. But when Osferth struggles to speak through the deep sadness that his friend's loss provoked, Finan on the other hand still can't believe it, eyes wide and not even staring at the monk anymore. As Vicky blinks, she realises her eyes are wet too, of shock and compassion for her friend.

Osferth swallows before continuing his story. “We waited so long, under the rain, utterly wet and freezing like hell. But he never came back.” He wipes his tears with his sleeve. 

“Sihtric?” Finan asks under his breath. 

The monk sniffs and sighs regretfully. “We tried to stay together, but he was more and more distant. One day he just… He just left without a word.”

Finan nods but Victoria doubts he has accepted the information. He stands up, his hand flat on the table and his face dark, the chair squeaking as he does so. He is about to say something, the three others staring at him, but he just closes his mouth and leaves the house. 

“I'm so sorry.” Vicky stammers, torn apart between Finan's pain that affects her more than she expected and the shock of the revelation. She rises from her chair as well, her hand waving toward the door. “I should go with him, see if he's fine.”

Sophie walks around the table and rubs her arm in a kind attempt. “Sure, go.”

When she is outside, Victoria perceives Finan crouched, gripping his hair fiercely, his back to her. She steps carefully toward him but he doesn't react until she runs her hand between his shoulder blades.

“I'm such an idiot.” He whispers barely audibly before he stands up, towering one head over Victoria of one head. She bites her lip at how much hatred is burning in his eyes, but the anger is only towards himself. “I'm a fuckin' idiot!” He shouts, gripping his shirt over his chest. “If I wasn't so stubborn. If I had searched for them before, maybe it wouldn't have happened, maybe I could have helped, maybe-” 

“Finan that's enough.” She orders him, clasping her palms over his cheeks to force him to look at her. “Rewriting the past is useless, it will change nothing.”

“They were my brothers and I abandoned them.” He mutters guiltily. 

She brushes back the hair falling over his forehead, resting her hand then on the back of his neck. “You're not responsible for what happened.”

He lets out some sort of strangled sob before leaning down, seeking the comfort of her embrace and she doesn't reject him. For the second time in a few days, she lets him cry on her shoulder, holding him tight. Her heart squeezes, thinking about the new wound Uhtred's loss is creating in the middle of the Irishman's heart already full of scars. He spoke to her of his friend and his adventures with so much pride and joy, describing the strong bond between them. She can only imagine the pain through the one she would feel if she learned Rebecca's death.

When he has calmed down, after long minutes, she stays with him while he smokes a cigarette, sitting on the floor, back against the car. “It doesn't make sense.” He mutters, smoke escaping his mouth. 

Vicky glances at him. “Maybe we are just an anomaly?” She says, not really having thought about it before asking. “And our death has just been programmed in the wrong time.”

Finan huffs, closing his red and swollen eyes before raising his face to the now darkening sky. “That's crazy.”

“As if something hasn't been so far.” She shrugs before resting her head against his shoulder, closing her eyelids as well and remaining focused on Finan's slow breath.

“Thank ya.” He whispers, barely audible as the words mixed with his exhale. 

“For what?” 

“Bein' here.”

Tag :​ @for-bebbanburg @osferth ​ @maggiescarborough ​ @finansarms ​ @dumbledoreisnotmyhubby @solinarimoon

[ashtonsunshine]

Carmo's Paris Adventures - Day 5

St. Germain et trois croissants

We woke up a little late today. Four mornings late, my mother still kept waking me up by opening the blinds. I told her not to do that because it hurts my eyes but I guess she thinks I'm lying like she always does, so I guess I had to suffer, yet again.

We had breakfast and I ate my second croissant of the vacation. However, they were not proper French croissants. They were those the supermarket sell by the bunch that I can buy in the exact same supermarket in Portugal. I wanted a proper French bakery croissant, damn it! Coming to France and not having a proper croissant is criminal!

After breakfast, we ate a crêpe with nutella, almonds, vanilla icecream and whipped cream. As we ate, my mother kept talking about me coming to work here, even after my relatives said multiple times that they themselves were happy that their children were not living here because Paris is too dangerous and not worth it and after me, my dad and those same relatives saying that you need to know how to speak French here otherwise you're not gonna make it. She kept saying You could start working somewhere and maybe then find a job in your area... and I told her, for the millionth time, How am I gonna find a job in communications in France without speaking French? and obviously she goes If you really wanted, you could already know how to speak French. What about those people who emmigrate without knowing the language?. She simply doesn't want to understand the situation. She thinks it's easy to come here, find a job and live like we do in Portugal. Where would I work without knowing French? Cleaning? In a restaurant kitchen? In a warehouse? My English skills are worthless here. Yesterday  we walked past a school and she said that my sister could do some English tutoring here. How is she gonna tutor English to French kids if she doesn't speak French?! Do you know what she answered? I'm tell you what she answered: With will power. Like, are you serious right now?! Also, where would I live? With my dad? In his studio?And have no privacy? Does she want me to ride on public transport for hours every morning and every night and be robbed, or worse, raped? I had to listen to this shit every day since Saturday and I'm gonna keep on hearing it for the next days...

When we finished eating, we headed off to St. Germain. Yes, the St. Germain of the Paris St. Germain football team. 

There's a castle there called Chateaux-Neuf which was transformed into the Museum of National Antiques. It's very pretty. It's not a flashy castle. It's honestly very modest-looking for a castle.

It was being worked on on the outside to clean the stone. As you can see on the picture, the right tower is cleaner that the rest.

Next we walked a bit on the castle gardens. Better saying, never-ending gardens. This is just the beginning, right in front of the castle. Beyond those trees, there's an extremely long walking avenue with forest on both sides that goes forever.

This is the overview from the castle gardens. You can see the top of the Eiffel tower on the right side of those tall buildings.

After that, we went to visit the city centre.

And finally I ate a proper croissant from a proper bakery! 10 times better than those of the supermarket! It was crisper on the outside, and it melted in my mouth. So delicious! I didn't take a picture because I was too busy eating it.

Then, we headed off to the airport. The traffic to exit St. Germain was terrible. Plus, it was 30°C and I had the sun hitting me directly in the car. I was waiting for us to make a turn so the sun would shift sides but we didn't, so I moved seats to the other side to cool off a little. Thankfully, the traffic diluted as soon as we entered the highway.

We stopped at McDonald's to have a snack and I ate a pain du chocolate and had an English breakfast tea. Great tea, I might say. Strong with a dry aftertaste. Right up my alley.

At the airport, we checked how much out suitcase weighed. 11kg. It could only transport 10kg so we had to take out the two packages of powered sugar from the suitcase into the backpack. After that, we went through the first baggage check to see if the backpacks fit in the Ryanair box thingy. We knew they would because we did that in Porto but we kinda had to squeeze them a bit.

Next was the security check. I was speaking basic French with the security people and I don't know how I did it but I did and that's what matters. Guess what happened next. Yep, the goddamn metal detector beeped on me. I had nothing metal on me. I was wearing exactly the same thing I did when I went through security check in Portugal and there the detector didn't beep on me. I wasn't even wearing a wired bra. The security lady told me to step forward and checked my hands with the scanner. She only checked my hands and my sneakers for some reason. Then, the other security man asked me which backpack was mine and asked me if I was well. I said I was very well. He checked my bag with the scanner too. He scanned it on the outside and he scanned it on the inside, and, obviously, there was nothing dangerous in there. I still don't know why I beeped, how I managed to keep it together and speak French to the security people. That was... stressful.

As we were up in the clouds, I had a window seat and throughout the whole flight all I saw was clouds. It was beautiful. We flew by this massive, and when I say massive I mean covering-the-horizon-all-the-way-from-land-to-the-airplane massive column of clouds. It was fascinating. By the time we were descending, I could see the red burning sun shining its last rays of light from behind the clouds the sea horizon and it was the best welcome back I could get.

[shall-we-imagine]

Alternatives. (Edgar x Reader *AU I guess*)

Genre: Fluff.

Summary: If plan A doesn't work, there are still 25 letters left.

(Second person point of view)

"I can't believe we're that unlucky!" You groan, watching the heavy rain run down the streets. "First, you had to work late, so we couldn't go out, and now it's raining!"

"I'm sorry." Edgar wraps an arm around you, soothingly rubbing your arm in an attempt to comfort you. "I know it was supposed to be just the two of us celebrating our anniversary, but I was given heaps of work at the last moment."

"It's not your fault." You sigh. It really wasn't; you just couldn't help but feel a little disappointed either way.

A long moment of silence pursued as Edgar stared down at you with guilt. You wanted to assure him that you weren't blaming him for anything, but you didn't have time to do so; he suddenly spoke up. "How about we have our date inside for today? Then tomorrow I can make it up to you."

Your eyes brightened with excitement. "That would be wonderful!" You embrace him tightly, earning a bashful chuckle.

"So, movie night?" He smiles after you let go.

You nod but pause, slumping your shoulders, after a disappointing realization. "We don't have any snacks. Not even popcorn."

"We don't nee-"

"A trip to the supermarket it is, then!" You nod, cutting off his statement and walking off towards your shared closet to pick out an outfit for your late night trip to the supermarket.

"Are we really going to the supermarket at 12 am? In the rain??" Edgar almost pouts. He was probably tired after a long day at work, but he really couldn't say no to that innocent look of excitement on your face.

"My god, it's still pouring!" You shuffle closer to Edgar under the umbrella he was holding for both of you.

"You know it hasn't been longer than 10 minutes since we stopped looking out the window, right? Were you expecting the rain to have stopped?" He laughs in amusement, making you blush lightly.

"Hey, I'm just saying!" You defend, while knowing full well he had a point.

"Sure." He ruffles your hair then begins leading the way to the supermarket, careful not to rush ahead of you and give you a free, unwanted shower in the middle of the street.

As Edgar struggles to close the old umbrella, you marvel at the view in front of you. It's been ages since you've gone to a supermarket at such a late time, so the lack of people and the immense quietness were captivating in a way.

"Look! It says buy two for the price of one!" You tug at Edgar's sleeve, distracting him from reading the contents of some ambiguous canned product.

"Those are just two plastic jugs?" He raises an eyebrow.

"But it's a good offer!" You argue, lifting the colourful containers to his face, as if causing him to cross his eyes by how close the objects are to his face will somehow convince him it's a good deal.

"But we don't need them!" He laughs lightly, pushing them away from his face. "Come on, we haven't even bought the snacks yet; let's go." He places the alien canned food on the shelf and places what you called a wasted good deal on their shelf as well, then proceeds to push the cart towards a different aisle, dragging you along with him to ensure you don't pick up some other good deals.

"Okay, we'll buy popcorn and maybe some other snack, but that's it, okay? No going crazy and buying an entire shipment of some Thai candy you thought looked interesting, okay?" Edgar only notices your disappearance after receiving no response, "(Y/N)? (Y/N), where did you go? Were you even liste- come on." His palm immediately flies to his forehead when he sees you approaching him with a plushie.

"It's so cute!" You hug the small rainbow unicorn closer to you. "It's not even expensive; can I please have it?" You ask, pulling off your best puppy eyes.

Edgar struggles for a few moments before sighing, "Fine."

Letting out an excited mixture of a squeal and a thank you, you run up to your fiancé, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. He embarrassedly touches his cheek, a little startled by the gesture, but it made him momentarily forget about having to pay for the unnecessary toy.

"Now can we go buy the stuff we came here to buy in the first place?" Edgar grabs the cart and pushes it forward while walking, carefully checking the categories written on top of each aisle.

"Here!" You rush in between rows and rows of various types of chips.

"Weren't we buying popcorn?"

You pull two large sized bags of chips and add them to the cart. "If we're having a movie night, we need to do it right!" You lift a fist and display an exaggerated determined expression, receiving a laugh from Edgar as he shakes his head in disbelief.

"I'll leave it up to you then." He seemed to have given up on restricting your choices, and now he's just amused by how many items you can buy apart from what you actually needed to buy.

A few (scratch that; they were certainly more than a few) useless items later, you'd finally gotten the stuff you needed and payed for them.

"Still raining?" Edgar's eyes widen slightly. After all this time, you still can't get used to how adorable that expression is; it was your second favourite expression of his. It looked so innocent and pure, always making your urge to kiss him triple. Alas, you had to keep the desire to yourself for now.

"Yeah, it's strange how it hasn't stopped until now." You muse. You grab the umbrella, since both of Edgar's hands were busy with grocery bags, and attempt to open it.

"Okay, what's wrong with this thing?" Your eyebrows furrow, as you battle with the button on the handle. No matter how hard you push and press, the button wouldn't budge.

Edgar places the grocery bags on the floor. "Let me see?" He takes the umbrella from you and tries to open it himself.

Praying you won't have to swim your way back home, you watch as he fumbles with the ancient umbrella that you honestly don't even remember buying; it seemed to have always just been there.

With a few violent jerks, Edgar opens the umbrella. Or more accurately, Edgar breaks it. The troubled, guilty expression that takes over his features leads you to smile in awe, and as if under some mind control effect, you find yourself automatically pecking his cheek. Your gesture relaxes him, and he smiles at you.

"I guess we'll have to hurry home if we don't want to get too soaked then." Edgar jokes, picking up the grocery bags again after disposing of the now useless umbrella.

"First one home gets to shower first?" Giggling, you take your position, ready to semi-sprint back home. You weren't very fond of the idea of breaking your back bone or something, so you knew you weren't gonna use your full power to run.

"Already too slow!" Edgar sprints past you, sending you into panic mode for a few seconds before you begin running to catch up to the cheater.

"Hey, that's not fair!" You yell, realizing you had no chance of catching up let alone beating him.

Not even looking behind him, Edgar yells back. "You're only saying so because you're losing."

It was true. You'd done that to him so many times that it was only fair for him to take his revenge. But with the rain soaking you and the mud splashing beneath you, you really dreaded not being able to shower first.

"I win." Edgar beams proudly, patting your head once you reach the front door.

Since you were panting, the only response you could give was a glare, which he seemed to find adorable, for he simply chuckled at you and kissed your forehead.

Seeming to be in deep thought, he stares at you for a few moments then places the bags on your porch, away from the rain. He proceeds to take the rest of the plastic bags from your hand and places them next to the ones he'd placed on the porch. Without saying a word, he takes your hand in his and pulls you towards the middle of the empty street.

You let out a little laugh, "Edgar, we're already soaked; what are you-"

Your statement was cut off when he stopped walking, faced you, and gently placed his hands on your cheeks. Eyes shut, he closes the distance between your faces, and you find yourself following his lead. He presses his lips, which were relatively cold, onto yours, but the temperature difference didn't matter, since the gesture was enough to warm your entire body. Your hands grasp at his jacket, yearning for the familiar feeling of your bodies pushed together as one.

The rain wasn't making things easier, and you were sure both of you were to end up with a cold or even a fever, but both of you were already drenched anyway, so you had nothing to lose.

Your eyes flutter open when you both pull away, and you were greeted with the expression you so loved to see. Your favourite expression of his. It was one where his lips were pink and swollen after your shared kiss, one where his cheeks were a deep shade of red, one where he seemed to be blushing but still smug and proud of himself. This was your favourite expression; it was so beautiful to look at. It would've made you kiss him one more time if it weren't for the rain.

"I saw it in a movie, and..well, I wanted to try it, but I always felt bad and didn't want to have you get sick; however, since we're already wet, we might as well try it." He smiles, his gaze shyly escaping yours.

"I loved it." You squeeze his hand in assurance. "But we should get back inside now." Laughing, you both walk back into your house, trying your best not to make it look like a sea monster just broke in and sort of flapped its limps everywhere.

As your deal stated, Edgar got to take a shower first. While waiting, you placed your items in their correct places and prepared a movie.

"Finally!" You cheered when Edgar came out of the bathroom. Steam clearly filled up the space inside, and it lured you inside immediately; you were desperate for the hot water to make up for the cold shower you were forced to have because your umbrella decided to die on you.

The hot shower relaxed the muscles you hadn't realized were so tense. It was a magical feeling; no matter how many times you try it, it never ceases to impress you.

After eventually convincing yourself it was enough, you get out of the shower and dress yourself in some comfy pyjamas.

"Time for the movie!" You announce, walking out of the bathroom, but Edgar was already passed out on the bed, his mouth slightly open- something he only did when he was extremely tired.

Smiling to yourself, you grab the duvet and pull it on top of him and tucking him in. "Good night."

You turn off the large screen in your bedroom and eagerly make your way to your side of the bed. Careful not to disturb his sleep, you slowly slide beneath the cover and shuffle closer to the peacefully sleeping Edgar, basking in the warmth of his body.

Perhaps you didn't get to have your originally planned date, but being by his side would always make you happy. Therefore, anything can count as a good date if you're doing it together. Maybe even sleeping.

[cryptofmadness]

Interview (excerpts): CRACKED magazine’s Dick Kulpa

Crypt of MADness interviews Dick Kulpa on his tenure at CRACKED magazine and more.

(Note: The following is excerpted from a much lengthier interview published in the print edition of Crypt of MADness magazine #5 (May 2018.) The full interview as printed is much longer and contains much more than published here.

(Interview conducted by Chet Reams for Crypt of MADness magazine

Reams: Tell us a bit about your background before taking over…

Kulpa: I could fill a book with all that. Suffice it to say, I worked in virtually every facet of publication: Editorial, art, production, printing, advertising, distribution, sales...even janitorial.

My original aspiration was to be a cartoonist, enjoying some degree of success in that as a "self-taught" illustrator in local and national levels. However, what could be termed as "real training" occurred during my 12-year (pre-CRACKED) tenure at the supermarket tabloid Weekly World News.

It was that tabloid editorial training which prepared me for CRACKED. After all, I had a big hand in the creation of a publication (Editor's note: the satirical/humorous print tabloid "Weekly World News.) that sold well over 200,000,000 copies during my time there.

Reams: How did you end up getting the CRACKED magazine brand from AMI?

Kulpa: I offered to buy it when it was folded. They accepted. That was "too easy,” I thought back then.

Reams: I read somewhere that there were plans for a CRACKED mag TV show/DVD around 2004.. .what happened to cause it to fall through?

Kulpa: It didn't have to fall through.

... Suffice it to say a semi-retired graphic artist with national aspirations (and no experience above a local level) declared my TV deal, which allowed the television people to market and profit from ancillary CRACKED merchandise for two years as “not good enough.” He blurted this out at the initial investor meeting held prior to my relocation to Rockford, Illinois.

... a national TV show would considerably enhance the CRACKED property, and I retain strong connections with key people who still see this as viable.

Also, past contributors would have seen residual payments for any work used.

Reams: What happened in Rockford, Illinois (where the last three issues were published) - with the investors there?

Kulpa: The amount “invested” in CRACKED was termed as “pocket change” by my main ombudsman there, and that money ran out by the third issue. The investors declined to recap it.

Oddly enough, that third issue bounced back in sales (which was usually the case during my tenure - I’d get three out then wait for money).

However...I don't fault the investors. As one advised me in a letter, they were "tickled pink" with my performance. However, they were unhappy with the performance of the company appointed to oversee the business end of it.

…

Reams: In Mark Arnold’s CRACKED book,(second volume, ) you are quoted as stating “in every case” the contracts you signed during “the CRACKED debacle” “..were breached…” Care to elaborate?

Kulpa: To my knowledge, nobody has ever challenged that statement.

We did not get all CRACKED documents as provided for in the original contract, as then-current distribution records were suddenly deleted from the seller’s company computers. I was advised of this minutes after that occurred by a major company insider (with a witness present.)

...

Reams: You also state “the CRACKED sale was never fully closed.” What exactly did you mean by that… were you not fully paid by the CRACKED dot com buyers, or more than that?

Kulpa: The principle attorney involved with the purchase (on the buyer's side) committed a "no-no", ethically. This prohibited me from fulfilling certain obligations. I did not receive the expected sum and was left holding the proverbial bag.

…

After that, my stored email evidence had suddenly disappeared back then (though I had saved THE one critically important email elsewhere) and at times it was exceedingly difficult to continue to “play dumb.” However, my prime goal was to unload what by then had become a debilitating albatross and return the investors’ money to them.

...

Reams: What would you do differently if you got CRACKED back today?

Kulpa: First off, I would not have lowered the bar. We had some great stuff in our first four AMI editions, but suddenly functioning on a zero editorial budget gave me little leverage in maintaining high standards on contributors. In short, I had to take what I could get…

2. Swing the axe. You cannot operate properly with loose lips — particularly whiners — who have no clue as to realities relative to your efforts. “Placating” doesn’t work. EXAMPLE: if a management staffer is delegated the task to make sure a price appears on the cover, that should be done. In one case, it wasn’t...and that cost an additional $10,000.

EXAMPLE 2: It takes sales to pay bills. One edition lost its scheduled racking because two knucklehead staffers charged with okaying the proofs buried them in an office desk drawer...costing CRACKED its proper rack placement. Most editions never left the trucks during distribution, and that edition subsequently bombed.

Given ongoing anomalous distribution issues, we just handed the bad guys a cracked CRACKED on a silver platter.

And freelancers wondered why it was tough to pay them.

3. Speaking editorially, my biggest mistake was in taking “me” out of “managing and creating editorial content” early on. I was too focused on distribution, dealings and ancillary issues. That, and I wound up as Weekly World News editor for a year, relinquishing basic editorial control of CRACKED. …

In terms of my own creative involvement, I pulled off some heavy stuff earlier in my career. That should have occurred here.

Reams: Why did you change CRACKED’s format?

Kulpa: I was appraised of CRACKED’s sales woes and presented a six-figure salary with a year to “turn things around.” At that time our in-house distribution people were “unenthused” (as seen in my first meeting with them.) I had to diminish the logo because my overseer wanted to change its name altogether, due to the drug connotation.

In publications, there is an established (but rarely used) concept of “throwing the current readership away” in order to expand, and Weekly World News did just that around 1984, dumping its 200,000 readership and growing it into over a million weekly sales. Egos had to be checked at the door. Sadly, they weren’t.

In closing: For a brief period in history, a major, iconic and classic entity was under the direct control of us “little guys”, and we so terribly muffed it. That’s why corporates will always control the action.

There are many people nostalgic for the CRACKED they grew up with, but the problem is, not enough.

And there’s a whole lot more to the CRACKED story...check out my Wordpress blog.

Reams: Looking back, would you say you made mistakes? You did say you believe your later lack of "managing and creating editorial content" was one, but were there others?

Kulpa: 2. My biggest mistake? As I debated whether to take the plunge - and sought direction, I failed to heed it when it came. One evening my girlfriend had me watch “Man of La Mancha,” and the scene featuring Don Quixote and his partner on a wooden horse - as entertainment for the aristocrat - struck me. “Look, that’s me and (Barry) Dutter” I exclaimed.

I should have listened to myself, because in essence, that’s what occurred.

…

On a practical front, I should not have delegated “important” functions to staff. As a result, a price was left off an edition cover, (costing $10,000 -CRACKED was shut down three weeks later by the previous owner), editions were sent to print a week late on several occasions, and freelancers “may” have gotten erroneous info.

Further, I regret not doing more editorially, as said before.

That, and bowing to staff pressure and trying to present new material. I should have gone to reprints for a time.

All that being said, I (and staff) functioned in unnatural and unprofessional conditions. We wanted CRACKED and instead, got “crazy.”

...

I should have never sounded off to a potential investor who finally emerged...as that killed the project. All in all, CRACKED Magazine boasts a proud legacy. Unknown to most were my efforts to maintain the magazine’s name, and at one point, stopping an AMI company official from selling its archives on eBay. A number of now-prominent artists got their springboard via my CRACKED, (because I saw things that MAD didn’t, perhaps?)

And the hope is that someday, someone will actually take the time to fully research this era. They will be in for some surprises. In my 1979 case, however, I knew who the culprit was.

In THIS case, it wasn’t me, but for some reason it’s convenient to maintain that fallacy.

…That being said, CRACKED (Editor's Note: CRACKED dot com, not the magazine) as been at the center of rather unusual financial activity for some time now, and I hope this gets thoroughly investigated.

Crypt of MADness magazine thanks Dick Kulpa for allowing us to interview him for Crypt of MADness issue #5!!

Excerpted from Crypt of MADness magazine #5, May 2018. There’s a lot more of this interview in the print zine - copies can be ordered from the Facebook page