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obxsummer · 5 years ago

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Hurricane // The Pogues

word count: 1.6k

pairing: platonic!core four x reader

warnings: angsty, phsyical abuse, cursing

summary: you weren’t sure how fast it all happened, but you found a family in the pogues. luckily, with a one worded message, they come to your side when you need them most.

request: hello! maybe something about being friends with all the pogues and then something happens to you and they all like take care of you or whatever, you can take this however you like!! thank you

a/n: took a darker twist with this like i usually do oops. italics are a flashback! hope you guys enjoy this!

masterlist

ask me anything (I’m all caught up with my requests so send some more!!)

You weren’t quite sure how you ended up in this position. It was practically monsooning outside as you sat on the floor of your bedroom, curled in a ball. You had heard the news through the door of your room enough to understand a major tropical storm was hitting the coast, but that didn’t matter.

About three years ago, your parents had disappeared, leaving you to the custody of your aunt who wanted nothing to do with you. At first, it was fine. There wasn’t much arguing, you just did your own thing and stayed out of her way as much as you could, spending your time with the resident Pogues who you called your own family. After the first year, things started getting iffy. Your aunt started seeing people and coming back completely drunk, taking her emotions out on you no matter what the cost, whether it helped her or not.

Your friends never knew the full intensity of what was hiding behind closed doors. You didn’t want to seem weak, or ungrateful because really, living with her had given you the best friends you could ever ask for, but you were struggling.

It was a particularly bad week. Your aunt’s supposed boyfriend had cheated on her, something she found to be your fault for some reason. You had plans with the group tonight, but once she stormed through the door in a fury, you knew it wasn’t happening. Seeing the darkness in her eyes, the anger, you quickly sent a text in the group chat before the first slap connected to your cheek.

“What if you ran away?” JJ asked as he sat across from you in the sand. “Would she notice? You could just stay here, with us, all the time.”

You shook your head, leaning back against the piece of driftwood behind you. “I need to wait until I’m 18. That way I can get what my parents left behind, maybe enough to find my own place here and get away from her.”

“What if something happens before then?” Kiara was worried. Not only did JJ have battles with his father, but learning your aunt was just as bad had her clearly upset. She hated knowing you guys had to struggle through any of that. “You guys, seriously. What if one day something happens and you need help?”

Pope snapped his fingers as he thought of an idea. “A code word. If it’s ever really bad, you could send like…” He trailed off as he tried to think of a word.

“Hurricane,” You mumbled as you played with the sand under your fingers. JJ hummed since he couldn’t hear you which made you speak up again. “Hurricane, because they’re dangerous, deadly even.”

John B nodded. “Then we have it. If anyone ever needs us to drop everything and help, send a hurricane.”

You prayed the little blue bubble had sent across your screen, the code word in place as you collided with the ground. Your aunt was in a rage as she continued to attack you left and right, the gems of her jewelry slicing your skin. Her hand latched in your hair as she dragged you up the stairs leaving barely any time to keep up with her. She slammed you against the wall just outside of your room.

You felt your head rattle with the action, pain surging through you as you winced. “God, I knew I should’ve declined that call when they asked if I could take you in. Nothing good has come out of it!” Her nails dug into your shoulder, making you whimper as she drew blood. She threw your door open and practically kicked you inside, slamming it shut as you landed in a heap on the floor.

Your lung burned as you fought to breathe through the pain in your ribs. You curled into a ball in an attempt to ease the strain on your body as you tried to catch your breath. Your arms were bleeding from your aunt’s nails, scalp sore from her ripping on your hair. You weren’t sure how bad everything was, but you also didn’t want to find out.

“Where is she?” John B’s shout echoed through the entire house. You could hear more yelling, something crashing against the floor. Footsteps pounded on the stairs before your door was opened again.

You flinched when someone’s hand touched your shoulder. “No!” You whined as you squeezed yourself in a tighter ball to prevent further harm.

“Y/N/N, come on, babe. It’s me. We gotta move.” JJ’s hands were gentle as he shifted you so he could see your face. Kiara leaned down, her fingers brushing the deep scratch on your arms before she kneeled next to you. After a moment of consolation, you released your tight grip and blinked up at them, fighting the tears in your eyes.

“Fuck,” Kiara mumbled as she wiped the water from your cheeks. “Come on. JJ, get her out to the van. I’ll get her stuff.”

You let out a small scream as JJ lifted you off the ground, earning instant apologies as he moved from the room. “You’re okay. We’ve got you.” You closed your eyes tightly, waiting for the pain to pass as JJ climbed down the stairs carefully.

“Is she okay?” Pope’s voice filled your ears as you looked over. Broken glass was scattered amongst the floor but your aunt was nowhere in sight. Thankfully both boys looked completely fine with zero evidence of injury on them.

John B caught your curious eyes and answered your inevitable question. “She left. Said she wasn’t drunk enough to deal with this. We don’t know where she went.”

“Kie’s getting her stuff together. Will one of you help her?” JJ nudged his head up the stairs, to which Pope responded and ran up to assist his friend. John B set a hand on JJ’s shoulder as he took into account your injuries. He shook his head before moving towards the door. JJ tried to shield you from the rain as the two of them ran towards the van.

You whimpered as JJ shifted awkwardly to place you on the seat, earning more apologies from the blonde boy. “You’re fine, I’m fine. It’s okay,” You mumbled. John B took over helping you while JJ ran back inside to help the other two.

“Hey,” He whispered as he sat by your side. You gave him a forced smile in return as he grabbed your hand and squeezed it. John B had always been a brother figure, someone you could share anything with and you weren’t afraid to let him see when something was wrong.

“Hi,” You mumbled back as his thumb rubbed against the back of your hand. “Thank you. For saving me.”

John B swore he would cry at the tone in your voice. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “Can you sit up for me? I gotta get your shirt off if that’s okay.” You nodded, biting your cheek as he helped you sit up. His hands were careful as he pulled your t-shirt over your head, leaving you in your shorts and sports bra. “Shit, Y/N.”

You almost didn’t glance down, his reaction being enough to let you know that it was bad. Your ribs were turning an ugly purple color, slightly swollen. You exhaled, laying back against the seat. You were overwhelmed with the events of the night and tears threatened to spill.

“Hey, no, no, no. Don’t cry.” John B placed his hand on your cheek, rubbing your tears away as you shook your head. “It’s okay. We’ve got you now, I promise.”

At that moment, your friends jumped back in the van with various bags filled with your stuff. Pope and Kiara took John B’s spot in helping treat your injuries and clean you up while JJ hopped in the driver’s seat to head back to the chateau.

Once you were inside, Kiara helped you change into comfier clothes including one of JJ’s oversized t-shirts and a pair of sweats. You had always craved someone’s presence when you were hurt or upset and this was no different. Walking back into the main room, the boys were already laying across the pullout couch, some movie playing on the screen.

Pope offered you his hand as you crawled up near your friends, settling in between them. You could feel various comforting touches as Kiara settled in next to you, your head laying in JJ’s lap as you situated yourself in between his legs. John B’s fingers played with your hair as you hugged JJ’s waist tightly, feeling his hands rub across your back. Your eyes threatened to shut as you listened to the sound of the movie and the pouring rain outside. Before long, you were asleep amongst the comfort and security of your friends.

There was still a battle ahead of you with leaving your aunt behind and finding your own place in The Cut so you could be with your friends, but in the moment, none of that mattered. All you cared about were the people around you who you considered family and loved more than anything. With them by your side, you knew whatever happened would be okay.

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one-piece-but-smitten · 3 years ago

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Midnight Baking Lesson

Sanji × Reader

Tags/TWs: Minor injury mention

~~~~~~~

It all started with the wrong decision on how to hold the knife. Your index finger had been perched atop the back of the blade as you roughly sliced the vanilla bean pods. You didn't know why, but it was somewhat impossible to get under control. You had tried to reposition the bean pod, and that was when your finger and the knife slipped.

You quietly nursed your cut finger with a damp washcloth, glaring at the herb in frustration. It was the middle of the night, you couldn't risk waking up your friends, especially Sanji. He was the one you were trying to make this for, after all.

A month ago, he had mentioned his birthday, and despite offers from the crew of having a party, he declined for some reason. It had only been about a year since you had been traveling with the band of wild pirates, but you had gotten to know them all pretty well, and you knew Sanji wouldn't pass up a celebration. You looked at the clock through the dim lighting of the moon, frowning. It was about 12:14 A.M., Sanji would be awake by sunrise. You had time, but if you kept slipping up like this that wouldn't count for much. You sighed, picking up a small bandage and tying it around your finger before going back to the cutting board. Initially, you had planned to make him a pie, but you thought it would just be easier to make him a little cake instead. The rough handling of the bean pods had made little noise, but it was enough to stir Sanji and put him on high alert. He crept out of bed, convinced Luffy was attempting to break into the refrigerator again. He snuck down the stairs stealthily, his sock-padded feet silent on the wood as he made his way to the kitchen. He opened the door, blowing his sneaky cover out of the surprise of seeing you.

"[Name]?? What the hell are you doing in here?" He asked, startling you. You hadn't heard him come in, so it was a bit of a cold shock to see him out of the blue. You set down the knife quickly, making a futile attempt to hide the sloppy slicing job behind you.

"S-Sanji!! I could ask you the same thing, why are you up so late?"

You asked, internally twinging at the nervous edge of your voice. He frowned at you, his eyes wandering to the mess behind your back in curiosity.

"I thought I heard Luffy gorging himself in here, so I was going to surprise attack the shithead.. But instead I found you."

He explained, raising one twirling eyebrow at the cutting board.

"What were you trying to do in here...?"

Damn, you were caught. You sigh, looking down at the ground.

"Well, when we were all talking a month ago, you mentioned your birthday. I know you said you didn't want a party, but I thought I should.. Well.. Let you kick your feet up for the day, and bake you something special.."

The last few sentences were mumbled, your face growing flustered as you revealed your birthday plans to him. You look down at the floor, feeling dumb and expecting no less of an insult from the ship's cook. You heard nothing, and looked up to see the cook with a rather surprised look on his face. Not only that, his cheeks were tinted a rosy hue.

"You.. You wanted to do that... For me??"

He asked in confirmation. You nodded, looking up at him sheepishly. You watched as he took a moment to process, looking a little red in the face as he faced you again. He let out a huff, your face burning as he came up behind you and started to correct your mishandling of the pods.

"W-Well, let's start by showing you how to actually deal with these."

He picked up his own paring knife from the block and took a piece of the butchered pod, focusing on his cutting as he explained your mistakes.

"First, you gently make a slit through the center like so,"

his knife gracefully glided through the vanilla, and he spread the newly-cut wings of the bean pod. You clumsily followed, your large chef's knife feeling a little clunky for this job. He nodded in approval, looking around at the assortment of ingredients in mild confusion.

"Before we go further... What exactly was your game plan here?"

He inquired. You blushed slightly, feeling dumb with the gradual realization that you forgot to plan ahead of that.

"I.. Was going to wing it. I would have flipped through some of your cookbooks to see for a recipe."

You admitted. He sighed, but it wasn't out of exasperation. You were surprised to hear a small chuckle follow as he lit a cigarette, opening a few windows to let the cool night air in. His laugh is kind of cute, you realized, blushing more. He took a drag from the lit cigarette, chuckling again.

"What am I gonna do with you?"

He asked rhetorically. You were left to sit for a bit as he put away and pulled out new ingredients, but you let it go as soon as he brought out the buttermilk from the fridge. You frowned, you may not be an expert in the kitchen, but you knew buttermilk wasn't something you'd usually use in cakes.

"Buttermilk?"

You asked aloud, wondering what the blonde was up to. He looked back at you, grinning as he pulled the griddle from it's hanging hook on the wall.

"I figured we make something quick and easy, and breakfast is a pretty easy start to a day, so why not some old-fashioned pancakes?"

Well.. It was technically morning. That, and pancakes were fun too. You nod, getting out some whisks and mixing bowls from the cabinets. With that, Sanji started instruction.

"First order of business, Mise en Place."

He stated. You cocked your head to the side, unfamiliar with the phrase. He took a drag from his cigarette before elaborating.

"It's a phrase that helps with organization while cooking. Getting out equipment and measuring everything beforehand to make the process easier."

He explained. Ah, so getting everything ready. You nod, looking around you to see the equipment was mostly there. The only thing needed was measuring cups and bowls for the measured ingredients. You got to work, being stopped almost immediately by the blonde.

"[Name], you need to sift the flour first. If you mix it in like that, there will be clumps."

He instructed gently, coming from behind you with the sifter to do it. It was only about a few seconds, but the warmth from his proximity almost made you want to scream. However, you let none of this show as you continued to work under his supervision, listening diligently as he showed you small tricks on how to make your food better. You got to the point of mixing everything, and he once again came up from behind to guide your hand as you whisked the wet and dry ingredients together.

"See, you need to watch how much you mix it, because it's super easy to let all of that air out of the egg whites we fluffed."

He explained. You nodded, letting him lead the way as your hand relaxed into his. The blonde's cheeks were dusted a light pink, but he dared not comment on it. He cleared his throat, separating before gesturing to the skillet. On the counter beside it lay a butter try with about half a stick settled on top of it. Sanji took out a butter knife from the drawer, cutting off a bit before flicking it onto the hot surface. A soft hiss sounded, letting you know it was ready to go. Before starting on cooking the pancakes, he glanced over at you.

"Would you like to do the honors?"

He asked. You chuckled nervously, feeling a little inexperienced compared to him. Even so, it was his birthday. You needed to at least do something to lighten the load. You grabbed a flipper, giving him a determined look.

"Yeah I do!"

He laughed, stunning you for a second. It was still so pretty, even if you'd heard it so many times before. You snap out of the daze as he goes over to the batter bowl, taking up a ladle and dropping small amounts of pancake batter into the skillet. The butter and mix hissed dully, letting you know that it was cooking. You shuffled over to the stovetop, monitoring the pancakes carefully.

"Make sure you don't flip them prematurely, then it's going to take longer. You'll know it's done when the bubbles rise up from the backside."

Sanji said, peeking over your shoulder. You stiffened a bit, something Sanji managed to notice. He frowned with mild concern, looking at you.

"Are you okay? You're acting a little weird, [Name]. Have you had any water lately?"

He asked. You shake your head vigorously, anything to get him from being so damn close. You see bubbles rising to the top of the batter, but you wait. You watch as more bubbles come up, and you decide to flip. To your surprise, the pancakes are a beautiful golden color, the outside browning crisp thanks to the butter. You look back at Sanji eagerly, and he returns the smile you give him twofold.

"Look at that! Not bad for the first batch. They usually turn out pretty iffy when I flip the first few."

He said. You rolled your eyes, knowing it to be a lie. You punched his shoulder gently, chuckling.

"Don't pull an Usopp on me, blondie. I know everything you make in here comes out perfect."

You retort lightly, surprised to see Sanji's blush of a reaction. You turn back to the pancakes quickly, feeling a blush creep up in your cheeks as well. A small silence settled on the both of you as he poured batter and you flipped. As it progressed, your thoughts ate at you. Looking at the situation clearly, your plan was backfiring. Sanji was being forced to cook on his birthday, all because you were too ditzy to handle baking him something. These intrusive words shifted your attention, causing you to use more strength than necessary to try and flip a pancake. Alas, the spatula slipped, and so followed your hand. There came a yelp, a clatter, and small shouts of concern from Sanji. Your hand had made contact with the sizzling skillet only for a moment, but your pinky and palm still hurt like hell.

"[Name]!!"

In an instant, he snatched up your arm, taking you over and plopping you down in a chair before moving the skillet off of the burner and grabbing a clean washcloth off of the counter. He ran it under the tap, squeezing out the excess before gently setting it against the burn. You winced, feeling horrible. He squatted down next to you, emotions in turmoil within those blue eyes of his. You avoid his gaze, feeling ashamed.

"[Name], please look at me."

You bit your lip to keep it from trembling, your good hand curled into a fist as it sat in your lap.

"I'm sorry, Sanji, I really am.."

You whimper shakily.

"Why are you apologizing? It was just an accide-"

"That's not what I'm talking about... I mean I'm sorry you had to cook on your birthday because of me."

There was a small silence before Sanji finally chuckled, taking your good hand into one of his. You blushed, it was rough and somewhat calloused from cooking over the years. You look into his eyes, unable to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks. He was so sweet, even on the day he should be treated like a king he was there, tending to you. His eyes softened as he wiped your tears away, a smile on his lips.

"You're too kind, [Name], but you don't realize.."

He softly squeezed your hand in his, turning red as he gave you his best grin.

"Being able to cook with you makes this one of my best birthdays."

You burned a bright scarlet, registering his words. You can almost see the steam pouring out of your ears from the heat in your cheeks, uttering out incomprehensible babble. He laughed, letting out a little sigh before kissing your forehead. You jumped at the affection, looking up at him in silent bewilderment

"Alright, now no more tears from you. Hang tight over there, you can't cook with your hand seared like that. I'll be done shortly."

He stated, standing up to his full height before going back to the flapjacks. All you could manage was a dumb nod, watching him intently as he focused. You let out a little sigh, unable to help the rush of affection you felt for him. Despite being a weirdo sometimes, he was one of the most polite, gentle people you had ever met. Soon, he had finished the work the both of you had started in a timely manner, even managing to wash the dishes as well. He went to plating, breaking out some fresh fruits for additional garnishes before setting down two beautiful plates of food on the table. One was topped with raspberries and lightly drizzled with honey, and the other happened to be topped with your favorite fruit along with honey garnish. He slid the latter plate towards you, handing you a small bundle of silverware tucked neatly with a napkin. You chuckled, taking it.

"You can't go without being a little fancy, can you?"

"You're acting like it's a bad thing."

You smiled at each other before digging in.

Without fail, both plates were without a speck of food. You let out a contented sigh, looking over at Sanji. He had lit another cigarette, the stick sitting delicately in between his fingers as he looked out at the sea through the window. He was so pretty, you had always known that, but you had never bothered to acknowledge it. You were pulled out of your thoughts as he got up from his seat, letting out a sigh.

"Well, I'm gonna go."

Sanji said, giving you a smile before turning to leave. You got up from your own seat, getting in front of him before giving him a hug. Surprised, he took a moment before reciprocating, his arms holding you close. If you couldn't manage to express it through his field, maybe you could do it in a way you both understood.

"Happy birthday, Sanji."

You whispered. He chuckled, resting his nose in the crook of your neck.

"Thank you for making it happy, [Name]."

~~~~~~~

This is a repost from a book I have on my Wattpad, a friend suggested I put it here so you all know how I write (although this is very, VERY old)

#sanjionepiece #reader insert #one piece #one piece oneshot #vinsmoke sanji #straw hat pirates #writing #strawhatscribe

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steverogersnotebook · 4 years ago

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Neighbors - Sofa Date

NEIGHBORS

Recovering TJ Hammond and Steve Rogers (between TWS/CW) who try to find comfort on sleepless nights through baking, music, and friendship. An offer to share company and their mutual talents when being alone is just too much leads to friendship.

(my inbox is open for ideas, prompts and headcanons)

NEIGHBORS fluff | gen [platonic friendships] / Steve & TJ Hammond | minor romance TJ & OMC Julian [SERIES of oneshots]

[read on ao3]

A/N: I started this for Valentine’s Day 2017 or 2018. I don’t know what the holdup was, It’s been almost complete ever since. Well, better late than never!! TYSM every one!

The heavy bag landed atop the previous three, in no better shape, all losing their fill through the ruined covers, causing Steve to wonder if he’d ever find something that could stand up to his strength and frustration instead of prematurely exploding.

Though these troubled nights were on the decline with the catharsis of baking and having friends like Sam and TJ, sometimes, baking just didn’t cut it and he was loathe to push himself into his friends’ space - again - and Steve would resort to a little controlled destruction.

Tonight wasn’t going down without a fight. He’d tried to get some rest after the call came telling him that in a few hours they were ‘wheels up’. It had been fruitless and resulted in a run. He’d amped up his speed and set a course for himself that should have done the trick, but after running fast and far, Steve’s run and subsequent shower didn’t put him any closer to a settled state.

Next try, the kitchen, resulting in cookies and fudge. Ordinarily he wouldn’t bother with something like that in the hours before a mission, knowing he’d be gone for an unknown number of days, but tomorrow was Valentine’s day, and he’d yet to figure out what to do for TJ.

Even though TJ wasn’t alone this year for the holiday, it felt like a tradition. He didn’t have many of those left, so it just felt like something he had to do.

Making fudge from his Ma’s recipe had brought both her and Bucky’s sister to mind. The memory of their childlike joys - from sampling the finished product to trying to cut the fudge into shapes with a knife, not just simple boring squares, to entertain Becca - and the rich aroma had provided all the comfort he’d expected.

Clearly, Steve thought as he unwound tape from his wrist, It just wasn’t enough to quell the agitation over the continuing uneventful search for Bucky and the stress of the impending mission.

So that was how he wound up tearing up heavy bags in a dimly lit gym. He really did need to find a new schtick. And he definitely needed a second shower.

Lying across his bed after his shower, unable to relax - still - Steve laughed at his naive expectations. He reached toward the end of his bed to drag his t-shirt to him as he sat up. Steve tugged the thin fabric over his half-dried hair. He stretched the soft, worn fabric hem over the waist of his pajama pants.

“Might as well finish the thing,” Steve’s voice echoed through the quiet space. He shuffled his stockinged feet across the smooth, clean floor. The glow from the light over the stove led him to the frosted confection. Fingers that had sported bruises when he came home, but were now perfectly pink gently tapped at the icing to see if it had set up.

Satisfied with the firm, smooth texture, Steve inspected the box made from cookies for any weak points before filling it with heart-shaped fudge pieces. Overkill? Maybe, but he could laugh it off with TJ. The thought propelled him out the door and down the stairs until he stood in front of TJ’s door, in his pajamas.

Oops.

He wondered if this was the best idea - if it was even ‘proper’. Shoving doubts aside in favor of not spending the next few hours sweating over yet another physical distraction or tossing and turning fitfully, Steve knocked on the door.

---.---

TJ was just putting the finishing touches on the last of the heart shaped cake pops that he’d decided to bravely tackle on his own, when the knock on the door startled him. Well, maybe he could salvage it, he thought as he wiped his fingers on the flour sack towel and headed for the door.

He wasn’t expecting the sight of Steve standing in the doorway wearing brightly colored socks, brown plaid pajama pants, and a stretched out, yet still too small purple t-shirt threw him. He looked -- anxious.

“Steve, you okay? Come in.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d bring this by.” Steve looked around the apartment as he handed TJ a heart-shaped box, made from layers of cookies. “I’m not interrupting?”

“Of course not. Thanks, wow. This is -” TJ lifted the top cookie that doubled as a lid, to see heart-shaped fudge inside the hollowed out cookie box. “Beautiful.”

“Ma’s old recipe.” Steve’s smile was a weak attempt.

“I can’t wait to try it. Come, sit down.”

“It’s Valentine’s day, you must be expecting Julian, I don’t want to get in the way.”

“Valentine’s Day Eve, and nope, not expecting him until tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Steve sighed. His relief was almost as palpable as whatever was troubling him. “TJ, would you mind playing something - I don’t know - mellow?”

TJ didn’t bother asking, again, what might be bothering Steve. He simply made yummy sounds as he set the box on the piano.

They both sat, Steve heavily on the sofa and TJ eased onto the piano bench. His fingers touched the keys and the first thing to come to mind was the tune Steve had requested the night they’d met. The wan smile from moments ago softened and Steve closed his eyes. Two and a half tunes later, Steve sighed before sitting forward with his elbows on his knees. “So, you do have plans for Valentine’s Day?”

“Me? Other than some iffy cake pops, no, but Julian says he has something planned for me. Miles is with his mom this week.”

“How glad are you that Miles and I broke the ice for you two?”

“Are you still trying to take credit? You know it was my legs and ass,” TJ chuckled.

Steve’s smile eased some more. “I’m glad it’s working out, TJ.” He rubbed his palms up and down the length of his thighs before sitting back against the cushions again. “I’ve got to head out in a few hours.”

“More top secret stuff?” TJ turned away from the piano keys.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. “You know, just once I wish I could confide in someone outside of it all.”

“Yeah. Hey, have you considered talking to a therapist?”

“I did think about it. I can’t figure out how it all works now. With everything - I mean with S.H.I.E.L.D. - it had to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. approved doctor. You know, definitely not outside. Then after - who’s qualified? Who’s not a security risk? I’d rather talk to you. You, I trust.”

“That really means a lot, Steve.” TJ couldn’t begin to express how much it meant without losing all dignity. Not that Steve probably thought he had any. “If it gets to be too much, you still could. I know a thing or two about security.

Steve pulled his feet up onto the cushion, the limber bastard looked deceptively small just now.

“Hey, you wanna see what I’ve been trying to do?” TJ knew it was a lame attempt at a topic change, but it was less awkward than a pained awkward silence would be.

“Yeah, sure.” Steve looked over his knees at TJ.

“Steve, are you frightened?”

“No more than usual. Just - when will it stop? I thought it was over when I woke up in this new world. It wasn’t. I thought we were doing something by bringing S.H.I.E.L.D. down. We didn’t.”

“You did, rousting so many corrupt agents and supporters,” TJ lunged forward in his urgent attempt to mollify Steve, nearly toppling the piano bench. “I mean -”

“Thanks, TJ. I know what you mean. There are still cells out there - and it doesn’t feel like we’re ever going to find the end. So -” Steve uncurled from the compact shape and surged to his feet - feigned energy mingling with whatever the serum did to make him quick and agile. He followed TJ to the kitchen. “- What’s your project?”

“Valentine’s gifts for my best friend and my boyfriend.” TJ knew that he still flushed when he said the word, but Steve wouldn’t harass him for it.

“I’d rather be watching Miles for you two to go on your date tomorrow.”

“How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

“Possibly a week. Hopefully just a week.”

TJ plucked away the blob of now hardened icing that had plopped over the edge of the heart “I was doing well, the knock on the door startled me. You think I can salvage it?”

“Yeah. Hey, these look great. If you can get most of that off so that it’s flush, you should be able to give it a little touch-up with the red. Then you can go back to decorating.”

“I was going to do roses, but gave up early on. Hearts are my speed right now. Maybe I can practice roses before Julian’s birthday.”

“Of course you can. Maybe we can figure it out together.” Steve spread his hands across the flat plane of the countertop, “If you’d like.”

“Of course. It’s your fault I even considered this. You should have to do the time.”

“Where are the rejects?”

“Nonexistent,” TJ said, fighting a grin. “Not as in ‘TJ didn’t make any mistakes but this one’ - but as in, ‘I ate them’.”

Steve smiled, shaking his head “I should have known.”

TJ painted red candy coating over the white spot on the damaged cake pop with a surprisingly steady hand, considering how close he was to laughing at them both. “How’s this?” He held the confection towards Steve for inspection.

“You’d have to know about the mistake to find it, but if you’re nervous about it, you could give that one to your best friend and pick out the pristine ones for Julian.”

“Says my best friend.”

“Me?” Steve’s feigned surprise was terrible.

“You don’t go undercover do you?”

“Occasionally.”

“Well, don’t get yourself caught and killed, okay? Cos that was terrible acting. How do you feel about a Valentine’s Eve pizza and movie until you have to take off? Or you’re welcome to crash on the sofa if you just want to unwind.”

“There will be no crashing for many hours,” Steve confided. “I’ve had this nervous energy for several hours, went to the gym. It helped a little. Got home and tried to unwind and now I’m here. Pizza does sound great.”

“So, did you snag yourself a Valentine this year? Anybody going to be disappointed you’re ditching them on the big day?”

“No, I haven’t been looking. If you’d like, I can have Nat give you a call and you two can plot against me?”

“No, hey, if you’re happy - that’s what matters.”

“I sent flowers to Peggy. They’ve moved her back to England. I think I’ll stop by before I come back.”

“Might be just the thing.” TJ picked up his phone to order pizza. “The usual?”

“Hm. Yeah, sounds good. Am I overthinking the dating thing?”

“Probably. It seems like you’re trying to avoid a long-term thing, and in the process you’re missing out on good company and fun things like shows, dinner, and weird but enjoyable adventure dates. I’m not the only person who likes those things, Steve.”

“You’re saying I’ve been using you as a surrogate?”

“People have asked if we’re dating. Even after I started seeing Julian. I don’t mind it, it’s good for my reputation. You’re probably suffering in that department though.”

“I’m willing to take a hit for your burgeoning reputation,” Steve teased.

“That’s why you’re my best friend. Here - bestie - Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Steve took the offered arrangement of cake pops with a warm smile. “Thank you, TJ. You’re not getting any flak from Julian about our friendship, are you?”

“Hell no. He loves that you sized him up both in and out of the Iron Man costume. He was intimidated enough to ask if there was something between us. But I let him know the only competition he has is if he messes up your pastry apprentice.”

“Damn straight,” Steve laughed.

--.--

Music filled the Audi but it might as well have been silent for as much attention Julian paid the noise. His mind was chock full of loneliness. The same thing that he experienced every time he had to drop Miles off at the ex’s.

He tried to think ahead to his Valentine’s plans for TJ. A late brunch, followed by an afternoon and evening on the town. It should be enough to sustain him through the night, but the glaring silence that he’d pretended to look forward to - the lack of childish glee and minor tantrums - made him restless.

Long fingers stroked a strong, smooth jaw before clicking the car stereo off and turning the car toward TJ’s apartment.

He recognized the pizza delivery guy as their regular from TJ’s favorite pizza joint. As they both got out of their cars at the same time, he nodded toward the guy, “223?”

At the nod of recognition, Julian smiled. “Let me take that off your hands.”

“It’s already paid for,” the kid spoke up when Julian reached for his wallet.

“Right. Then this is for you.” Julian smiled. “Thanks. Be careful out there.”

The kid took the cash and grinned. “Thank you, you too - uh - I mean - have a good evening.”

Julian saluted him as he passed, balancing the two jumbo pizza boxes on one hand. He carried them inside wondering if Steve had stopped by, TJ wasn’t expecting him and that was a lot of pizza. Julian let himself in, as he was accustomed to doing, and stopped short when it looked like Captain America might take him out without hesitation.

--.--

They both turned toward the door when it opened. TJ wasn’t surprised, but Steve - unaccustomed to this type of visit - was nearly to his feet, prepared to fight. TJ had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. “Jules, you startled us.”

“I come bearing pizza, is that enough to cover the price of admission? And buy forgiveness?”

Steve backed down instantly, knowing Julian wasn’t a threat. Still, he appeared ready to bolt without notice.

TJ met Julian with a kiss, which went a long way toward alleviating his loneliness.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. You think there’s enough for one more?”

“I see you accosted our delivery person.” TJ followed Julian around the sofa, trying to take the boxes, before giving up and letting Julian set them on the coffee table. “Did you tip well?”

“Of course.” Julian passed a large hand through his wavy hair before putting his palm on the side of TJ’s neck, “Do I look like a barbarian?”

“Jury’s out.”

“Hi Steve. I really hope you don’t mind me crashing. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Julian,” Steve nodded, the momentary shock had melted away and he smiled at the friendly greeting. “I know the feeling. The more the merrier.”

“What kept you up?” TJ asked as he opened the pizza boxes and lined them up in front of Steve and Julian.

“Too quiet.”

“Miles is with his mom,” TJ laid a hand on Julian’s wrist. “You really should be having celebratory naps when he’s with her, that little one is always going.”

“That he is.”

“Must be hard,” Steve said. Loading his plate with slices of pizza, he again considered leaving. He just couldn’t get behind facing the loneliness. He definitely understood too quiet. It might be more permanent for him than for Julian, but the feeling wasn’t easy no matter how long it prevailed.

“Just the first few days. It’s so much easier to adjust to his coming back than his being gone. He loves it there, she’s really a great mom. I just - I’m learning how to behave in both worlds.”

“Let’s eat and watch a movie, maybe that will distract both of you for a bit.” TJ moved past them both to turn the television on. “None of that I hope I’m not in the way nonsense from either of you.”

Steve sat back against the cushions, his plate piled with slices of pizza balanced on the sofa arm next to him. “You’re the boss.”

“Yeah, for now,” Julian teased, tossing napkins on top of the pizza boxes.

“I’m offended,” TJ pouted as he sat heavily on the cushion next to Julian, and sprawled half across Julian’s leg.

Steve snickered before taking a bite of one of his slices of pizza. The trio settled into the comfy sofa in hopes that the movie could distract them.

<<<>>>>

The vibrating phone in his pocket woke Steve. At some point in the movie, the sleep that had eluded him all evening had taken over. He didn’t bother looking at the phone, just slipped out of TJ’s apartment, leaving TJ and Julian snoozing on the opposite end of the sofa.

He tapped a quick reply to Sam, and took the stairs by twos and threes, silent except for one stair that creaked if you breathed on it. In his apartment, he sent TJ a thank you and another Valentine’s day wish before grabbing his gear from beside the door, deciding that he could change clothes on the way. Off to Lagos, for what he hoped would be a quick recon mission.

#✪#neighbors #sofa date #tj hammond #steve rogers #omc julian #tj and steve are neighbors and friends #julian might resemble that aquaman guy #valentine's day #valentine's day eve

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logical-little-lies · 5 years ago

Text

His Original Caregiver- Agere!Sides AU (pt.35)

a/n: okay so this was supposed to be a filler BUTTT I accidentally introduced a smaller plot line that will be resolved soon. Kinda iffy about it but Janus gets a tiny side plot!! so yeah. Also this is for the anon that asked for little virgil

Everyone knew now. All the sides knew about each others littlespaces.

Of course, in "everyone", they weren't including the neutral sides. They barely knew the neutral sides, like at all. But that wasn't the point.

Explaining everything to Remus was surprisingly easy. He made a few dark jokes, but that was just him. He understood and accepted it pretty quickly, which everyone found odd. They really needed to update Thomas on this whole situation. Because to his knowledge, the dark and core sides still hated each other, and the dark sides knew nothing about their littlespaces.

"I got a baby as a present today!" Roman announced in the most dorky and extra way he could, entering the core side commons with Virgil. The baby in question was holding his hand, wearing an oversized purple t-shirt, and a pair of black pajama shorts. A pastel purple adult pacifier hung loosely in his mouth.

"Hello, Baby Bat," Patton greeted him, causing the boy to lightly wave.

"Remus and Janus were supposed to be coming over today, do you want me to call that off?" Logan asked from the couch, where he was reading a book and drinking some coffee.

Virgil bounced in place excitedly, "No! Wan dem to come! Pleaseee?" he looked up at Roman, his words muffled by his pacifier. "Pwease?" he repeated.

"I mean, I wouldn't mind my brother coming over...." Roman looked over to Patton and Logan.

"As long as he promises not to make those not-so-appropriate jokes in front of the child," Patton intervened.

They all agreed to let the dark sides come over regardless of Virgil's regression. Virgil wasn't in babyspace, but he hadn't regressed in a while, so it was a deep littlespace. He got excited easily, and he was very talkative. While they waited for Janus and Remus to arrive, Roman made Virgil breakfast.

Virgil sat on the counter (chairs are still useless and for the weak), swinging his legs lightly while Roman filled his sippy cup with juice. "You're so cute, you know that, right? I haven't had to take care of Little Vee in a bit," He twisted the lid onto the black sippy cup, handing it to him.

"Haven't been lil," Virgil nodded, pulling his pacifier out of his mouth. Roman took it and let Virgil drink from his sippy cup. He decided to summon a pacifier clip, busying himself with connecting the pacifier to the clip and clipping it to his shirt.

"Boop!" Roman tapped the button of Virgil's nose when he was done. Virgil giggled around the sippy cup nipple, scrunching his nose a bit. Janus and Remus were supposed to be here any minute, so they were now waiting. Remus knew that they were all regressors, that they took care of each other and such. He also knew that Thomas knew about all of this put only partially.

"C'mon, time to get off the counter, " Roman instructed. Virgil pouted a little, but didn't fight it, taking his hand and jumping down from the counter. He landed on his feet safely. Virgil bounced on his feet when he heard knocking at the door. He squealed a little, and Roman gave him a look. Not a bad look, more like a curious "you've never done that before" look, but Virgil stood still and looked down, as if guilty for being happy and energetic.

"No, no, no! You're allowed to be excited, baby! You just don't do that a lot, it's very cute, though," Roman assured. Virgil nodded softly, getting distracted when he heard the voices of Remus and Janus, conversing with Logan, who was probably explaining that Virgil was regressed at the moment. Virgil seemed to be rethinking his excitement, coming closer to Roman and attempting to hide behind him.

"Oh, come on, Vee. No need to be shy," Roman stepped aside, urging Virgil forward until he was forced out of the kitchen. "Vivi! It's so good to see you, Little One!" Janus greeted, cheery and soft, just like he used to be when he was Virgil's primary caretaker. Virgil giggled, waving a bit.

"Hello!" he squeaked.

"Do you want a hug?" Janus offered, hesitantly. He knew that sometimes, Virgil didn't want affection, and he wasn't gonna push him. But he did know, that while Virgil was little, he usually did. Virgil nodded, coming closer to him. The moment he was in Janus's embrace, he melted into it, happy in the moment.

When he pulled away, he looked at Remus, who seemed to not know what to make of the situation. "Hello, kid?" Remus looked at the others, Logan shaking his head in a slightly disappointed way, "I don't know how to interact with a toddler! Be thankful I'm using a filter around him."

"Hi, Ree!" Virgil smiled. Remus noticed the pacifier attached by a pacifier clip to his shirt, only making a confused face for a second. He didn't know Virgil used them too. Remus settled on patting his head, not really knowing what he was supposed to do.

Eventually, once the slightly awkward greetings were over with, Logan disappeared into his room to read a book, while Patton was in the kitchen making cookies for everyone.

"But dada, I wanna help with da cookies!" Virgil was playing with his stuffed animals, looking up at Roman, who sat on the couch at a higher level than him. Janus sat next to him, and Remus sat in an arm chair.

"You made a mess last time we tried that," Roman shook his head, not wanting to be responsible for helping Patton cleanse the kitchen.

"Won't do that 'gain! Promise," Virgil pouted. Roman looked away from his pouty face and thought for a moment.

"Maybe I'll let you help Patton mix everything together, if he wants help." Roman offered. Patton responded from the kitchen.

"Fine with me, kiddo! I'll be done measuring everything in a few minutes."

Virgil cheered a bit. He went back to showing Janus all of his stuffed animals. The floor was a mess, covered in every stuffed toy Virgil has collected. They comforted him, and this collection didn't hurt anyone, so it didn't matter much. Janus would ask the animal's name and pronouns, and shake their hand as if meeting someone very, very important. Of course, in Virgil's eyes, he was.

"Dis is Snuggles!" Virgil held up a light gray stuffed elephant.

"And their pronouns are?"

"Uh...All of them?" Virgil giggled, shrugging a bit. Janus gave him an endearing look, smiling a bit before reaching out to the stuffed animal.

"Well, hello there. Mx. Snuggles!" Virgil held up the paw of the stuffed animal, letting Janus shake it lightly. Janus knew how much the small things mattered. Even though he probably wasn't gonna remember the names and preferred pronouns of each and every stuffie Virgil owned, Virgil was gonna remember how Janus played a long and 'met' each one of them.

"They like da color blue, and cookies!"

While Virgil kept going on about his stuffed animals, Remus tapped Roman's shoulder.

"I was kinda hoping we'd get to hang out? Do something in the imagination, or play video games?" he asked. Roman seemed like he was gonna agree, but he looked towards Virgil.

"I-" Remus cut Roman off.

"You have to take care of him, I get it. I shouldn't of asked," Remus sat back in his seat, returning back to just being quiet. Roman felt bad, not knowing how to respond to his comment. Janus cut in while Virgil was picking another stuffed animal to show him.

"If you wanna go somewhere for a little while, I don't mind taking over for this one," he offered. Remus looked between them hopefully. He didn't like this filter, much at all, he felt like he just had to sit there or he'd say something wrong, and upset the little. And he hated being quiet.

"Are you sure?" Roman asked. Janus nodded.

"Just make sure you're hope for dinner, we'll save some cookies for you two!" Patton promised from the kitchen. Roman nodded slowly.

"We can go to the arcade I made near the Vineyard Village!" Roman said, looking at Remus excitedly. Remus was excited now, too. Roman paused, looking down at Virgil, who seemed confused.

"Hey, baby. Would you be okay if dada left for a little bit?" He spoke softly.

"B-but...why?" Virgil obviously hadn't been listening. "You leaving me?"

Roman's heart could be heard breaking. "No, I'm not leaving because of you. I just wanna hang out with my brother. Janus will be staying with you?" The last part seemed to be was made Virgil agree.

Virgil was called into the kitchen to help Patton with the cookies, and hung out with Remus and Roman as they got ready to leave. "I-i don't know, last time I left with alone with Logan while little, it didn't end well." Roman seemed to be hesitating now, as they were getting ready to walk out the door.

"Well, is there anything important I should know?" Janus asked.

"If you have to scold him, be soft but affirming, and very affectionate. Reward and praise him, even if its for something like telling you he was upset about something. He had a hard time with that sometimes...." Roman kept rambling about his little boy, even though Janus already knew a lot of the stuff. By the time they finally did get out the door, Janus could've sworn it had been a million years.

Shocker, everything was absolutely fine. Janus helped Virgil clean the inevitable mess me managed to make after 'helping' with the cookies. Which was really just knocking things over and apologizing for it, only to continue on to knock something else over. But Patton told him that he couldn't of made such amazing cookies without him.

"I'm sorry," Virgil apologized to the two of them.

"It's alright, Bat," Patton assured, putting away the ingredients as he spoke.

"I-i told Roro dat I wouldn't make a mess, n' I did..." he looked down, and Janus knew this was a case of him feeling overly guilty over something small.

"On accident. I promise you, you're fine," Janus ruffled his hair, distracting him. "Lolo! Hello!" Virgil greeted Logan, who entered the kitchen and leaned against he door frame.

"Hi, Vee." he greeted softly, looking up at Patton now. "Did the twins leave or something?"

Patton explained, and Logan nodded. "There's a list of Virgil's rules, punishments, and rewards on the fridge. I'm assuming you're caring for him, correct?" Logan looked towards Janus. He gave a light nod.

"I was his original caregiver, so..." Janus's tone went bitter. The attitude came out of no where, and so did the response.

"Woah! Hey, Logan was just asking a question," Patton defended.

"And I was just stating a fact," Janus snapped back at him. Virgil back away from Janus, closer to Patton now.

"No need to argue, while his tone wasn't the kindest, he's right. Just leave it at that, hmm?" Logan didn't want to have to deal with a fight. Patton didn't even seem mad, just hurt by Janus snapping at him. Janus's face softened, and he took a breath before talking.

"I-...I'm sorry, Patton. I didn't mean to snap at you, and I'm sorry I reacted that way, Logan." He apologized to both of them, seemingly shaking off the weird tone he had before.

"Yeah that's whatever, but are you okay, Janus? You seem to be jealous of Ro-" Patton was cut off by Janus.

"Don't worry about it. Let's drop this for now, hmm?" Janus reach out for Virgil's hand. Virgil took it, allowing the deceitful trait to lead him into the commons. Logan and Patton left him alone, allowing him to watch Virgil like he had wanted. For the moment, Logan and Patton would save their concern for another day, but that issue would eventually come again.

Roman loved Virgil, romantically, and he loved taking care of Virgil. Janus was his best friend, and yes, they were building that relationship back up, but it was still unsettling how the core sides took his place. And the one thing about their relationship that was sacred, originally just a thing between the two of them? Even he was replaced in that aspect, as Virgil's caregiver.

So, yeah. It hurt a little. A lot, actually.

Janus was just happy he got to be in Virgil's life again. But when he finally does come back, he feels jealousy. He feels bad for the jealousy. This is something that he'd deal with later.

For now, he'd take care of Virgil. Just as he'd promised Roman.

#cg janus #cg roman #littlevirgil #little virgil #virgil agere #ts agere #sanders sides agere #sanderssides agere #prinxiety agere

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konpithepuppy · 4 years ago

Text

[TRANSLATION: WiNK UP 02.2021]

7 MEN SAMURAI CROSS TALK

Scans not mine

Neither an English or a Japanese native speaker

Feel free to correct me, thanks

WHAT SHOULD WE DO TODAY?

This month, images of before going in a date with the girlfriend who works in the same company were photographed. With the 6 of them in a round table discussion, they talked about the theme 「7 MEN 侍 Popular Guy Championship 」. The member who shined as the most popular is...?

If you date Katsuki, it feels like all her data will be gathered by Katsuki...

Yabana: Today's theme is "7 MEN~ Popular Guy Championship"! The winner is Reia-kun!

Nakamura: Thank you very much!

Sugeta: Wait, wait a minute! After taking time away from the topic, I think that Rinne is also popular!

Nakamura: What do you mean by that? LOL

Sugeta: I think each member is popular. But, in the end, it makes me think that Rinne is the most popular after all. Moreover, if we probably do a "the member you want to be as your lover" ranking, Reia would be in the 1st place. Well then, since we answered the question so fast, shouldn't we add some variations?

Nakamura: I see. How are we gonna expand it?

Sugeta: Like "Who is the リア恋枠?" Rinne thinks it would be these two (Motodaka and Rinne). (T/N: リア恋枠 = ria-koi-waku; a term for the idol who you want to be your bf/husband, he doesn't have to be good looking or your favorite member)

Konno: To be in love with Yabana?

Yabana: Am I not kind of like that? Since it seems like there's this sense of closeness with me. But, I think it's different with Daka-san. Since he is super smart, it seems like there is a high hurdle so I feel like the girls will have a hard time approaching him.

Motodaka: I think that's not true.

Nakamura: No, if you date Katsuki, I feel like all her data will be gathered by Katsuki...

Konno: He'll make his partner something like a report card LOL.

Sasaki: That thing that looks like a hexagon (radar chart), right? LOL!

Nakamura: Yes, that. Look, during the end of the year, we get a report card from Katsuki every year, don't we? He'll do that to the girl too LOL.

Motodaka: Stop it, people will probably really believe in what you said! To the readers, I don't do that kind of stuff! I don't do assessment of other people!

Konno: Then, who is the リア恋枠 (ria-koi-waku)?

Sasaki: Isn't it me?

Nakamura: Well no, since you (Taiko) are still a high school student. I think it is still early to be a partner for that.

Sasaki: So what you mean is that I should not yet talk about love, right? LOL

Nakamura: Yup. When you graduate from high school, I will let you join in this theme.

Sasaki: That means I'm on hold for now LOL.

Konno: But, I feel like older girls think that Taiko is cute.

Yabana: Nope, I think the the one who the girls think they want to protect is Konpi. Your atmosphere too provides healing.

Sugeta: What? There's no doubt that the guy who you want to protect is Rinne, right?!

Yabana: You can run for this position thoughtlessly, but wanting to protect that kind of body...it's impossible! Since the one that you would like to protect is a guy who is like a puppy LOL.

Konno: Rinne is rather a Tosa LOL.

Yabana: Exactly! Since his muscle is amazing LOL. That's why, ain't Rinne-kun No. 1 in popularity in "girls who like strong men"?

Sugeta: No, I am thinking that I want to be popular so I am doing muscle training, but a person who doesn't like that kind of person will not like him/her after all...

Nakamura: Ah, you were told about that on YouTube. Someone said "I don't like that much guys who are macho."

Motodaka: That can't be helped. It's just natural that there are also people who are like that.

Yabana: Since it is impossible to be popular to everyone.

Konno: But I definitely think that there are people who are "I like those well-built type of guys."

Nakamura: Certainly. It will be impossible for the other 5 of us to be popular to people who like that type of guys.

Konno: But, me being want to be protected is somewhat...

Motodaka: Konpi, I understand!

Konno: Coz I'm a guy.

Sugeta: Actually, you're probably the manliest among us, right?

Yabana: He is like a good old Japanese man.

Sugeta: That-is-why!! The person who you want to protect is Rinne!!

Nakamura: Okay, I get it LOL. Well then, when you (Rinne) see this girl, what would be the thing where you would think that you cannot compromise?

Sugeta: I don't like people who gives in to temptation too fast~

Yabana: You're stoic after all!

Sasaki: Maybe that not all you want to say but you can't get your words out LOL.

Motodaka: There's no concrete words for what you want to say?

Sugeta: There is! Colored contact lenses are iffy~ right?

Motodaka: That is very specific LOL.

Sugeta: In make-up and fashion too, I think it is better if it is natural.

Nakamura: You want someone who looks neat and clean, right?

Sugeta: Yeah! That was what I wanted to say!

Konno: Reia-kun is difficult on the contrary. Since he is cute that even girls look jealous of him.

Yabana: Since his disguise already came off in front of us so we are really not affected by that LOL, but maybe for people who don't really know him will see him like that. For Reia-kun, what kind of girl is okay for you?

Nakamura: An omoshiroi person I guess. Even though I said "omoshiroi", I don't mean someone who is laughable, but the type "the more you know that person, the deeper you feel for that person" is good. (T/N: omoshiroi can either be "funny" or "interesting")

Motodaka: Ah, someone you'll have fun with when you're together, right?

Nakamura: That's why I think I like someone who is well-mannered.

Motodaka: Well-mannered, or rather, someone who is refined, right?

Sugeta: Rinne also like that type of girl! I like someone who will not say "umai" but "oishii" during mealtime. (T/N: umai and oishii both mean "tastes good" but umai is an informal/slang kind of saying it, while oishii is the standard/formal way of saying it)

Motodaka: The words they use, right? That's important.

Yabana: I also like a person who is polite. Like someone who will not cause a trouble in store. But, I don't mind if she is being sarcastic if she is only in front of me.

Nakamura: Well then, is it okay if she is like Katsuki who can get hold of himself when she is outside but she is like Taiko when she is inside the house? LOL

Yabana: I'm okay with that LOL. Rather, with that, I think I will be glad that she is a careless grace at home. Also, a cheerful one is better after all.

Nakamura: That cheerfulness may help you, right?

Yabana: Yeah. Since I am already gloomy, if I go out with the same type, we will become gloomier LOL.

Motodaka: Me too, I'm about the same with Yabana.

Yabana: Yey! (Did an air hightouch with Motodaka)

Nakamura: What type do you like, Taiko?

Sasaki: Someone who looks clean and tidy is second to none I think. If I talk about visuals, more than being pretty, I prefer someone who looks cute.

Nakamura: How about Konpi?

Konpi: I like someone who is pretty. But it's not about visuals, it's about fashion. Her sense with clothes is quite important.

Yabana: What will you do if that person is your super type but her fashion is different from your preference?

Konno: I'll give her clothes as a present.

Other 5 members: Woah~!

Yabana: That is so manly!

Konno: Ah, but, saying something like this, I think I will be disliked by girls who are thinking of wanting to protect me LOL.

Yabana: Or perhaps I should say, if we put in total this discussion, the member with largest gap is Konpi, right?

Motodaka: Certainly. It seems that there are a lot of people who go "kyun" with that gap. (T/N: kyun = momentary tightening of one's chest caused by powerful feelings)

Nakamura: Well then, all in all, it is decided that Konpi is the No. 1 popular guy.

Konno: Really? Yey!!

Nakamura: Rinne, are you okay with that?

Sugeta: I'm fine with that. Here (Sugeta did an air pass).

Yabana: Just now, you (Rinne) handed over to Konpi the trophy that looked like it was in your possession until now but you really don't have one LOL.

#translation #7 men 侍

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inventors-fair · 5 years ago

Photo

Fanwalker Notes, pt. 2 ~

(Sorry for the delay, wifi went down)

@guardgomabroa — Rodrigo, Bloodthirsty Corsair

Honestly, for a three-color planeswalker, this card’s not bad. The first ability is definitely the coolest, and I’m a little iffy on the fact that you can ult it the second turn it comes out. But the first issue is that that emblem is really tame. It relies on lots of treasure and also on that second ability going off, which takes a lot of resources in itself. As for wording: the emblem should have an “At the beginning of your upkeep” trigger, and that second ability can use “it’s” instead of “it is.” The second ability also needs to specify “colors and types” because it turns it black. And I know the hybrid border looks cool, but this is a golden card, chief.

@hypexion — Malios, Stitcher Pariah

Personally, I would have made the second ability just act like a Goryo’s Vengeance kind of effect, to prevent random graveyard shenanigans, maybe upping the cost? But the first and second abilities pair fairly well together, and I think I like that. That last ability makes no sense to me. Why an “Angel Demon Horror” token? What world has that flavor? Additionally, you’re missing the token’s power and toughness, and you don’t need to capitalize keywords. It’s a Grixis card, I suppose, but needs polish.

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes — Aliana

I don’t get it. A planeswalker...mana dork? The second ability is confusing to say the least, and feels like it’s tied into the first even though they can’t regularly be activated together. The emblem is unique but so absolutely narrow that it doesn’t feel worth reaching towards all the time. I suppose there will be a story reason for all of this, but for a card, for a planeswalker, I don’t get the same sense of power or excitement. I think that it’s partially because this card is almost completely noninteractive; the opponent isn’t worried about anything much happening as long as she’s on the battlefield.

@ishouldgetatumbler — Glurmal, The Spreading Stain

Maro would be proud. I’m not quite with you yet. The first ability is pretty funny, and I like the execution. The second...almost feels exactly like the first, and I’m not sure if there’s really a time outside of a specific Ooze casual build that I’d ever use it. I do think the last ability is cool, but why not make it nonlegendary, like that one Jace from Ixalan? Speaking of, you mentioned that this character currently is on Ixalan, and I’m not sure how to process that. And I’m also looking over this again: it can make a blocker, then next turn destroy something AND copy itself AND get another blocker? I feel that chaining these together might be a little broken.

@ishtonreblogthings — Tacharan, Spy of Felldawn

Now I’m curious as to what her character’s original creature type is; if she’s from Lorwyn, the possibilities are endless! So, for a rare planeswalker, I think that this card would be amazingly fun in limited, and would absolutely break MTGO and commander. The phrase “all abilities” is really fun to think about but in practice can lead to some absolutely effed-up rules corners. Still, that’s what happens when you have shapeshifting effects. I’m not the biggest fan of that -2, despite the flavorful nature of it. Because the first two abilities are so unique and powerful, a Peek that takes away a third of her loyalty almost feels like an act of desperation over espionage. Maybe -1 would do the trick for a cantrip. Overall, the rules confusion makes this card probably hard to implement, but I’ll consider it an honorary runner-up. Thanks, Ishton!

@jonathan-hecht — Tanchik Archpainter

There’s a lot going on here. It’s hard to give critique on this card because it breaks a lot of fundamental rules of card design. The mana cost is a mess, the abilities lack cohesion and world-flavor, and the formatting has a lot of wording that needs editing. Having been through your blog, I can understand this card, not as anything that would necessarily be printed, but as an expression in itself. What of, well, that’s up for interpretation. I’m not sure what your intentions were with this submission. Despite that, I understand it.

@koth-of-the-hammerpants — Malagris, Butcher of Kulrath

It’s probably fine. I assume this is a Lorwyn-based card and I can see it fitting in there. The second ability feels pretty rough if your opponents don’t have anything in their hand, but man, if they do, that seven life can be a pain. Early in the game - holy crap, doing that turn four? This is a controlled burn right there. Hm, but considering that if they don’t have any cards in their hand it doesn’t do much... Yeah, again, the card is probably fine. For the last ability, P/T buffs come before keywords on effects like that. Why only opponents’ graveyards?

@lucianofsamosata — Syr Fuil

What, no subtitle? Regardless, I want to look at that last ability and open things up for discussion. Is that ability too much? Is there a point at which your opponents can’t possibly win the game from it? The thing about emblems is that they’re always some kind of answerable, even if they’re insanely powerful. They can always fizzle. This one mathematically has you win the game unless you’re so down on life that your opponent can take you out in one hit. And with that first ability that’s been happening, man, getting to that emblem isn’t that hard. I don’t know if that’s really a great idea. I’m open to discussion, but I feel that instead, it could be an Exquisite Blood or Bonds of Agony effect.

#mtg #magic the gathering #custom magic card #contest #entries #commentary #fanwalkers #inventor's fair

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rcsordinaryworld · 6 years ago

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Daisy Outfit Compilation

Daisy from @bittersweetcandybowl usually dons her simple pearl necklace by itself, but occasionally she gets all dolled up and I think that’s really cute. I think of the cast, she’s the most interesting clothing-wise. She doesn’t wear it consistently, but she wears it more often than pretty much any of the not-always-clothed characters, if that makes sense. So I decided that, instead of doing my day job, I was going to make a compilation of all of Daisy’s outfits.

This probably won’t be an analysis, more of a dump with images and chapters listed. I like to draw her wearing clothing a lot and I like basing her outfits on things I think she would actually wear. I think her taste has remained pretty consistent through the years, so let’s see if that’s true! And also, sorry if I missed any, and please feel free to reply with any that I do miss.

The very first outfit we see Daisy wear is her cheerleader outfit (right). This one is her middle school one, which is a little different from high school, but I couldn’t find a color version. I also included a shot from when Augustus recalls seeing her in this in a later chapter, though it looks like she’s wearing her pearls on that one. Don’t you know you’re not supposed to wear accessories in uniform, Daisy?!

Not sure if it counts (since it was for a gag) but she did dress up as a lobster with the rest of the gang for Mike’s birthday. I love the little smile on her hat.

Next, the gang surprises her with a Daisy dress, of the Mario variety. Unfortunately, she doesn’t appreciate it very much. A shame, considering how much that thing must have cost!

This shows up in a flashback scene with Paulo, but I can’t really tell what it is. A coat I think? It’s not something she wore all the time though, since we’ve seen her as a child and she’s not been in it.

The first Christmas outfit, at Tess’s first party. All of the crew’s outfits are Santa inspired this year, but Daisy’s is particularly adorable thanks to a big bell she wears around her neck.

As it warms up, their PE class involves swim lessons, where Daisy’s donning a black T-shirt. I didn’t even think she would own one, considering how much she loved pastels, but she really is quite self conscious. I can’t tell if she’s wearing any bottoms, since it is a long shirt. I imagine she probably has those boyshort type bottoms, probably also in black.

Hush, no, you’re perfect.

At least she seem comfortable in her cheer outfit! Chapter 38 features the first appearance of her high school cheer outfit, which is different from her middle school one, most notably, that she seems allowed to wear jewelry. (she’s not the only one, as Katie is wearing a necklace.) Also, her new outfit shows off her middriff and has a different pattern on the front chest panel. This one shows up in a few different chapters (list not comprehensive) as well as in the Candybooru. Also interesting, is that it looks like their school colors are sky blue and black. Go Roseville High!

AYOO meme time

But seriously what a weird but cute outfit! It’s so unique!! She was really laying it on thick to impress Mike, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she made it herself. It has a bit of a modified-from-thrift-store-finds feel doesn’t it? I have no idea if Daisy can sew but I am choosing to believe she does. Sadly, the night goes horribly wrong, but hey, at least she looked cute right?

It’s kinda messed up that Tess was pushing so hard for Mike and Lucy to go to Acapulco, but totally doesn’t seem to care if Daisy and Abbey skipped out. Daisy helped you pass your classes, Tess! I mean, I guess Abbey did need the support, and we did get to see Daisy wear a cute dress to see them off. There’s lots of shots with it being all flowy and girly, I love it so much. That sash is great.

Speaking of cute dresses, she wore a simple but pretty one on her first date with Abbey. They went to a therapy session slash picnic which is a... non traditional choice, but a very sweet one. You can tell she’s really into Abbey by how she’s dressing up for him, and that Taeshi had a lot of fun drawing the flowiness of it.

Bonus silly cute images featuring glasses Daisy. She also sports glasses in the student gov chapter, and whenever she’s shown in the future, she also has them. Adorable.

Halloween costumes are always fun, and Daisy’s costume for freshman year was a traditional one-- a witch. I love the off-the-shoulders look of it. It’s a shame she wasn’t really important that chapter. I’m interested to see what the current Halloween chapter will have her wearing, if she’s in it.

Pillow Talk is still one of my favorite chapters, because who doesn’t love gossip? What’s interesting is all of them wear pjs, even if they don’t normally wear clothing. Daisy showed up just wearing her pearls, and then put on a sleep dress (gown?) at the actual party. I included a shot of her room from this chapter too, since how she decorates her space is just as interesting as how she decorates her body, right?

Parties are definitely where Daisy likes to show off her fashion sense the most. Tess also hosts the Christmas party the next year, and it’s very cute. She’s got like... a poncho style thing, which actually became a trend way after this I think, since this chapter came out in about 2012, but a sort of Mexican inspired flowy top seems like something that definitely became super common in 2018. She’s ahead of her time! I think I love the flower ornament by her ear too. I couldn’t find a good shot of the length of the dress though.

But enough happy times. The day after the party, she wore this bright navy blue trench coat when she and Abbey went to visit Charlotte’s grave. Usually her fur is enough to keep her warm, so wherever Charlotte is, must be freezing. I wonder if she’s got anything under it, or if that’s not a prerequisite for coats in the BCB universe?

Looks like the trip to the cemetery got her too bummed out to plan an outfit for the New Year’s party. She’s just wearing her standard pearls for that one. Tess has a cute dress though.

She’s in a much better mood by Rachel’s party. I love that her shoes match perfectly. Off-the-shoulders is a great look for her, just like with her witch costume. This one is also reminiscent of the Mexican style blouses I mentioned earlier. I don’t think the waist-cinching has the effect she was probably going for though, at least not without a belt. She really seems to like baby blue huh?

WAIT A MINUTE THAT’S JUST MIKE COLORED.

AWKWARD.

But moving on! Remember how we found out she’s a huge weeb? That was great.The lanyard and backpack are such a great touch of realism. Con badges are the worst part about cosplaying at cons, since if you’re caught off guard you’ll have it in the shot, ruining all of your hard work. She obviously did put some effort into it too-- her costume is really well sewn and intricate and poofy. Notice all those panels on the chest and skirt. My theory that Daisy can sew intensifies. Also those bows are just too cute! I wish she wore them more often.

The same night she’s wearing some pjs again, this time a blue slip. Nothing fancy.

While not an outfit, Love Again opens with the first canon appearance of Daisy’s hip curls, inspired by Kit’s lovely fanart. I’m pretty sure they have a tumblr but I don’t know it, sorry!! I’ll edit it if I find out.

An intermission comic featuring all of their days starts Daisy off in pjs. These look like the one from Lucy’s birthday sleepover, judging by the collar frills. Looks like it might be getting more snug on her as she grows up.

Speaking of growing up, here’s Daisy all dressed up for her birthday, sporting a very cute bow. Her actual dress is made of a really strange material that’s presumably extremely thin, and sewn with plenty of elastic, judging by the wrinkles. I think it’s an interesting experimental outfit, but it’s so detailed it doesn’t really look the best in small scale. I’m not a huge fan of the wrinkled look in general, but the colors are very flattering on her, and the overskirt thing is pretty nice.

Daisy makes a brief appearance in Escape Route, a chapter mostly about Augustus and Lucy. Normally she wears dresses, but this time she’s rocking a cupcake liner. Okay, so it’s not really her, but I can’t not include this cute cupcake!

Last but not least, here’s her outfit for Mady’s birthday party. I adore this outfit so much! It’s amusingly similar to one of Lucy’s mother’s outfits, though her mother pairs it with pants. That being said, I think this is my absolute favorite outfit of hers. The cardigan pairs great with her necklace, and the belted dress is just so flattering and and adds just enough detail. I think it’s simple, classy, flirty, and just so cute. Most of her looks have been blue, and this is actually one of the few pink outfits she owns, but we know she does like it based on her room. Pink pairs with her apricot/cream fur for a fun, girly look that’s just right for her.

And with that, we’ve finished compiling all of her outfits from the comic, though I didn’t gather any outfits that are Booru-exclusives, like her prom(?) dress. I thought about including those, but there’s so many to go through, and their canonity was so iffy that I decided against it for this post.

It seems safe to say Daisy has very simple tastes, with a rather timeless but definitely girly feel to them. Flowy, mid thigh dresses and skirts are her favorites, and seems to prefer sleeveless or off-the-shoulder looks. She also has a tendency to dress up to impress boys, but she does genuinely seem to enjoy making outfits, and she’s quite fashionable!

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed making it. Daisy deserves all the love in the world.

#BCB #Bittersweet Candy Bowl #webcomic #daisy #I could be convinced to do one of these for lucy or tessa though lucy doesn't wear nearly as much clothing #but it was a suprising amount of effort!#anyway here's my contribution to the fandom for the year lol.

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shreddedparchment · 6 years ago

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The End of the World Pt.36

Thor, Vex, and the Missing Dove

10/26/2018

Pairing: Thor x Reader

Word Count: 6,843

Masterpost

Warnings: Language, violence

A/N: Man, I don’t even know why I’m so tired but I am. It took me much longer to write this one out than it has been taking me and I feel a little sad about that. This one is special to me because it’s begins to lay out the ground work for where the plot is headed. It also let me explore one of the more complicated relationships in the fic. I’ll probably continue to explore it too. Anywho, I hope you like this chapter and as always if you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

You have never been to Wakanda. This place, once believed to be a third world country of farmers, is the most beautiful and technologically booming place you have ever seen.

Your jaw drops at the sight of the sprawling city.

“It's called Birnin Zana.” Steve tells you. He watches your awed reaction and smiles before reaching over to rub the space between your shoulders.

You look at him and smile but see the shadow of fear in his storm blue eyes.

He’s worried. This friend of his, this Sophie, Bucky's wife for all intents and purposes is very important to Steve and finding her, getting her back is critical to Steve's wellbeing. Who exactly is this Sophie? And how the hell did she end up married to Bucky Barnes?

He moves forward, heading closer to Nat who's piloting the jet, seemingly oblivious to all the dramatics going on behind her.

The Golden City is bustling when you arrive in the early morning.

As the jet begins its descent you watch the people disappear and the buildings clear as a large black landing pad encircled by an array of brightly colored buildings and a majestic black palace stretches out beneath you. There are also small clearings with trees and grass between the buildings that keep the space from looking too developed.

The sudden shift in altitude makes you queasy and you press your hand against your belly.

Thor turns his gaze on you. Standing on the opposite end of the jet he moves to your side and places his hand on the small of your back.

“You alright?” He asks, quietly. It occurs to you that he might be trying to keep your unsettled nature between the two of you.

At the front of the jet, Steve turns back to check on you, hearing Thor's question.

“I’m fine. Just morning sickness. The swerving jet doesn’t really help. Really, I’m fine.” You give him a reassuring smile.

Steve leans down to whisper against Nat’s ear but you can hear him easily. Your Super Soldier hearing working well today.

“Level the jet.”

Nat looks up at him then back at you and evens the jet out.

As the jet lands, you reach out to Thor and grab his arm to keep yourself steady.

“Perhaps we should have gone home first?” He says with worry.

“Thor, I’m fine. We knew this pregnancy was going to be tricky.” You remind him.

Still he continues to stare down at you his eyes narrowed in worry.

You reach up and place your hand on his bearded cheek and smile.

“Really, puppy, I’m fine.” True. But you are feeling unnaturally dizzy. He doesn’t need to know that though. You��re sure it's just the jet.

Thor sighs heavily but smiles down at you sweetly, his body relaxing but his eyes taut in the corners. If he really wasn’t worried then his smile would crinkle his eyes.

Your hand wanders up to those corners to trace the space. He’s been worried since the two of you left Tony’s island. You're sure that it's only because Steve found it easy to recruit you into this search and rescue. Your abilities, even iffy as they’ve been acting, are useful.

So even if Thor may not like it, you know why Steve must want you here.

You’ve changed into your suit and you completely forgot to have Tony repair it for you after you saved Steve. You had been much more worried about the fact that he wouldn’t wake up, at the time.

Without repairs the suit looks a little battered and the tear from the knife wound that Steve had inflicted that night keeps grabbing Thor's attention. A reminder of how much higher the stakes are and what a risk it was that you’d taken by going after Steve alone that night.

As you look into his eyes you think about the golden pendant around your neck and it obeys your thoughts and extends down over your torso effectively covering your stomach with the vibranium mesh that Shuri had gifted you.

“Better?” You rub his cheek again, loving the pleasant scratch of his beard.

He sighs again.

“Thor, I’m fine. And the baby will be fine. I’m not going to be doing any fighting. I’m here to give my input and see how I can help.” You assure him. “Isn't that right, Steve?”

Steve turns to look at the two of you and focuses his gaze on Thor.

“We're not doing any fighting. I swear. Besides, what did you think I brought you for?” He smiles at Thor, trying like you are, to reassure him.

Thor looks to Steve and you see a flash of something behind his eyes. You’ve seen it before. Once. Not that long ago. But you can't remember where you saw it, or when.

“I won't let any harm come to her.” Steve promises him.

Thor looks back down at you and reaches up to stroke your cheeks affectionately. You close your eyes and relish in the love that you can feel pouring from him.

“I am going to hold you to that, Captain.” There's a hard edge to Thor's voice and you quickly open your eyes to see what expression he might be wearing.

You find nothing but his love for you. But you know without having to see it in his eyes or hear it in his voice. You don't need anymore proof than what you’ve already seen.

Thor is angry at Steve.

“Are you sure you can do this? This guy hasn’t said anything since we caught him almost two and a half years ago.” Steve stares in at the thin man on the other side of the two-way glass.

He has the distinct look of someone who used to be large, very muscular, but has now wasted away to almost a natural form. Still defined muscles but softer. His skin was a pale peach, probably due to being imprisoned and exposed to very little sunlight. His dark almost jet black hair was fuzzy and short, like it was growing in after being clipped short.

There was an almost bored look to his eyes. Nothing new had happened for him in a long time and he wasn’t expecting anything new to happen. He stares at the mirror, looking through it to you, Thor, and Steve though you know he can’t be sure there’s anyone there.

He’s used to being watched.

“I’m sure. Shuri really thinks that the Shadow are behind Sophia’s kidnapping?” You look away from the prisoner to Steve who turns around, arms crossed across his chest as he stares at the floor and leans against the glass.

“It's the only thing that makes sense. We've been suspecting the Shadow of being after her since we caught this guy. Well, technically, she caught him. Well, more like, left him for dead before she left Wakanda for a bit.” Steve seems to be in another world, another time. Remembering events you had not been present for.

“Why did she leave?” You wonder.

“Bucky. They didn’t exactly hit it off when they first met.” Steve’s eyes reflect a pain as he speaks his dead best friend's name.

“So, she ran away?” You can’t help but judge her a bit.

“Well, she was in love with him and he pushed her away. He was deliberately mean and cruel. Buck struggled after Vienna. Always at war with the demons of his past. He didn’t trust himself to be safe for her, so he did the only other thing he could think to do.”

“That sounds extremely toxic.” You frown at him.

“They really loved each other. They just didn’t know how to go about getting around the obstacles.” He looks at you, seeing the judgement in your eyes. “Not everyone is as willing to open up as you are.”

His words are a little cruel but mainly it's his own defensiveness that hurts.

This makes your heart sting, hating the way it reminds you of all the times you tried to get Steve to open up to you and he refused.

A particular cozy afternoon on your peninsula springs to mind sending painful flashes of sitting on his lap, tender kisses, and the way his body had felt beneath you.

You tear your eyes away from his as he sees the hurt in them and ignore the panic that rises in his storm blue eyes. You hear him stand up straighter.

“Well, why did she come back?” You ask, offended. The hurt seeps into your voice and the sound of it brings both Thor and Steve towards you but Thor reaches you first. He stands on your right, leaving the space between you and Steve empty but he wraps his arm around your waist as Steve stops two feet away staring up at Thor's face.

You’re so grateful for Thor and the comfort he gives you but you're also very careful to control your hurt about Steve from here on out. The last thing you want is for Thor to be left with the memory of his wife struggling with the residual feelings left for her ex.

“Bucky went to go get her. Almost got blown up by Rhodey in the process.”

“She was at the compound?” Again, surprise takes the place of your hurt as you realize that there was a whole different life at the compound before you were there.

The Avengers had become your family so completely and the compound your home that it was hard to picture a time where you weren’t there.

“Yes. For about two months. She worked in the archive.” Steve looks in at the prisoner again, eyes narrowed as he remembers the past.

“Tony let her work in the archive?” There's that hurt again. It brings Steve's eyes back to you.

“She betrayed his trust, Y/N. That’s why the archive is off limits for most of us now.” Steve's face is harder like he disapproves of something.

“How did she-?”

“That’s not really important right now.” He's putting his walls up again and it makes you so angry that you pull out of Thor's grip and move around to the door of the interrogation room.

“Wait.” Thor and Steve say in unison.

“Stay back. I’m going in alone.” You say flatly and push into the room.

As the door closes and the air settles you realize it’s much colder in here than it is outside. An interrogation tactic maybe? When the black door clicks behind you the prisoner looks up from his seat in the corner.

He stares at you and his dull green eyes suddenly spark to life. You move over to the seat against the opposite wall, grab it, and place it a few feet in front of him before sitting down.

You lean back and place your hands neatly on your lap. The prisoner watches you with those excited green eyes, examining every little move you make. His eyes flit to your hands as you let them settle on your lap and finally he looks into yours, frantically searching for something.

You open your mouth to speak but he interrupts before you can.

“You’re the other one.” His voice is slightly hoarse, like he hasn’t used it in a while but it isn’t what you were expecting. You had half been expecting a high reedy tone but his voice is smooth and even.

It transfixes you for a moment as you consider his words. “Other one? Other one, what?”

Rather than answer your question, he stares at you, a creepy sinister smile curving his thin lips to expose yellowing teeth. Maybe they weren’t letting him brush his teeth? Or maybe he’d always had bad dental hygiene? Either way, it unsettles your stomach and makes you nervous.

“Do you know why I’m here?” You wait. You keep your voice low so that the conversation is personal and quiet.

He doesn’t answer. He bites his bottom lip, gripping the front of his chair between his legs tightly which makes his arm muscles bulge. For a normal person that might have been threatening to witness but you are focused again on his smile.

He’s excited to see you. There is no doubt about it. He looks like he’s just seen his favorite celebrity.

“Answer me.” You steel your voice and give your command. He narrows his eyes in slight confusion then returns to his amused expression.

“You’re here about the girl.” He says.

“What girl?” You ask, just to be sure you’re both on the same page. With your superior hearing you can hear Steve shift closer to the glass as the prisoner speaks of who you’re sure is this sister-like person to Steve.

“The younger one. The one who outmatched me. She's astounding. Just like you. Such pure specimens. Now defiled and infected.” His face suddenly slacks as he seems to drift into memory. “Running away from the assassin, the Winter Soldier. That’s when I caught her. Women in love have such exposed weaknesses.”

You take offense on behalf of this Sophia woman and frown at him and also really wanna smack him defiled and infected?! He's talking about Thor and your bean, the bastard!

“Is that why she kicked your ass? Because she was weak? Answer me.” You add the order quickly, as an afterthought.

You curse yourself for neglecting your ability. Psych was right. You were weak because you avoided it so much.

And now you’re so used to being careful not to give orders. It's become such a habit to shift almost everything you say into questions to avoid terrible mistakes like sending Thor away. Now you have to remember to say thing right.

“She was faster than we expected. Trained by the soldiers. They were always there. Preventing us from finding the opportunity. Still, we didn’t expect her to be so prepared already. We thought we could take her easily and she'd be too weak to fight back.”

You narrow your eyes and lean in closer. The prisoner responds by leaning in towards you as well. Unafraid.

“Tell me who we is.” You lower your voice more and you hear Thor shift behind the glass this time. The way his weight shifts from foot to foot is louder than Steve’s and it’s so familiar you could find him in a crowd without even having to look up.

The prisoner’s smile falls slowly. He looks down at your collarbone and stares with his mouth slightly agape and his eyes slightly clouded over.

“We are Shadow.” He looks at the glass and stares towards Steve and Thor.

You follow his gaze, look at the glass then turn back, watching him stare into the mirror.

“He is Shadow so, we are Shadow.” He continues to stare at the two-way mirror, his head tilted slightly towards the right. He keeps the tilt but rolls his eyes to you and smiles again.

“She will be Shadow. And you…” He drops his smile again, staring into your eyes as his emeralds burn. “You will be Shadow, too.”

“Tell me about Psych.” You instruct but don’t feel particularly effective. There's no intent in your voice and the prisoner's face remains unfazed, no confusion crosses his mind.

“A happy accident. We did not think she would adapt so well to her serum.” He admits anyway.

“Is that what you’re going to do to Sophia? Inject her with serum? Why?!”

He says nothing.

“Tell me!”

The heavy silence that follows your words stretches for what feels like several minutes. You watch his eyes, the excitement in them growing until he's leaning only inches from your face.

“Have you heard his call?” He whispers, so quietly that even you wonder if he actually spoke. His lips didn’t seem to move.

Your skin suddenly erupts in goosebumps as his words strike a cold shiver in your heart. Your abilities aren’t working anymore. Damn it.

The door behind you opens and the prisoner leans back, his green eyes moving to look over your shoulders. He seems to clam up, leaning back completely until his back is pressed flat against his metal chair.

“Who is he?” Steve's normally even and controlled voice comes out commanding and aggressive.

The prisoner’s green eyes narrow as he seals his lips and refuses to answer.

“Answer him.” You growl. Irritated by the deep seated fear you’re feeling.

The prisoner eyes you and despite your order not working, he opens his mouth.

“He…is…is-is-i…” He’s trying hard to speak but the way he’s struggling reminds you of the struggle that Steve had gone through when he'd been taken and used as bait only two weeks ago.

He'd struggled to tell you that he was the ambush you were expecting but he hadn’t been able to push past his mind's manufactured obstacles, choking and sputtering as he tried. Eventually his body had begun to feel pain.

You push out of your seat and drop onto your knees in front of him, staring into his struggling eyes.

“Who is he? Tell me.” You insist.

The prisoner's green eyes shake as he struggles against his own mental blocks.

“Who is he?” You demand once more.

“H-h-he…h-he…” The prisoner shakes his head, achingly pushing against the restraints of his mind.

“Tell me!” You shout, losing patience, leaning up towards him feeling frenzied because of the cold fear coursing through your veins.

The prisoner seems to snap out of his daze and stares right down at you, a sadistic mirth curling the corners of his lips.

“Shadow will consume you.” There's a beat of silence when you feel your heart stop and then before you can react, the prisoner jumps forward, knocking you towards the ground. His strong hands wrap around your neck and his arms flex as he tightens his grip much more strongly than you thought he'd be able to.

Your abilities had been working perfectly fine all morning and now, when having them is critical, you lose them.

You reach up, gasping against his grip, struggling to breathe in and claw at his hands as hard as you can. You forgot what this felt like. Being weak and vulnerable sends your heart into overdrive and your thoughts race to your bean.

No. Not my baby.

You’re not even on your back yet when you suddenly feel a large warm body pressed behind you. Large arms wrap around your torso and a dark blue clothed leg lands a massively powered kick against the prisoner's chest.

He goes flying and crashes against the wall, crumpling in a heap on the floor as you and Steve go skidding across the floor, his arms wrapped protectively around your form.

You gasp, struggling to breathe, your hands still clawing at your neck.

“I’ve got you.” Steve assures you, his grip only tightening to try and show you that he physically has you as well as figuratively ensuring his grip on your safety.

In the same moments that Steve kicks the prisoner and sends the two of you flying back, the interrogation room door flies off of its hinges as Thor flies in, Stormbreaker in hand, eyes burning with blue electric fire, as the rest of his torso crackles and fills the room with the scent of ozone. The sheer power emanating off of him would strike fear in the hearts of his enemies.

He lumbers over towards the prisoner who is no longer moving then rushes to your side. You reach for him and without hesitation he scoops you into his arms, almost ripping you from Steve's grip, and carries you out somehow balancing Stormbreaker in his hands as well.

He doesn't stop until you’re away from the interrogation rooms, up a floor, and in a long stretch of empty hallway.

He moves to one of the benches that line the wall and very gently places you on the sleek seat. You keep your hands on his shoulders as you settle on the surface and he places Stormbreaker beside you.

His hands explore the soft skin of your throat, leaning this way and that in search of marks and bruising.

You catch your breath as he fusses over you and reach up to place your hands over his as they glide over the skin of your throat in slight panic.

“Are you hurt? Can you breathe?” He asks in strained worry.

“I’m fine,” you assure him. “I’m fine. Really.”

“No, you are not fine.” Thor replies riled up and clearly upset. “You were strangled. I knew we should not have come here.”

“Thor,” He stops his fussing and looks into your eyes. You can see the fear in them, the terror of what he had just seen.

You'd seen Thor worried and stressed before but fear like this, you have never seen this type of agony in his eyes. You're sorry for being the cause of it and are eager to make it right.

You grip his hands more firmly, still feeling weak and so utterly human again. You reach up, caressing his cheeks as his hands move down towards your stomach. He tears his eyes away from yours and stares at your belly before he leans down and kisses it then he rests his head in your lap.

You stroke his hair, trying hard to convey your assurances that both you and the baby are fine.

The two of you sit like this for what feels like both seconds and hours, each of you wrapped up in thoughts about what just happened in that interrogation room and what the prisoner’s words meant.

For you, this is suddenly much more personal than you thought it would be. The prisoner had singled you out and grouped you with Steve’s friend. You were special to him and you aren’t sure why. Your mind is racing, thinking about the time when Thor was with Jane and you and Steve stayed up at night, wondering why the Shadow wanted you so badly. You had started using the term after your second encounter with Psych because that’s what the people in black had reminded you of. Now that you know that is what they are actually called, you wonder if maybe you didn’t know that for some other reason. Maybe Psych had planted it in your head somehow?

You can understand why this is not a priority for Thor. His urge to keep you as far away from this as possible stems from wanting to keep you and your bean safe. But he hadn’t been there when this had been looming over your head those three months with Steve. He hadn’t been part of your life when the threat of kidnap had worried your mind.

As he comes around the corner, you look towards him, Steve. His hands are clenched into fists and when he sees you and Thor he falters for a moment staring at the intimate position you’re in, Thor’s head in your lap, your hands gently rubbing the back of his head.

When he’s about six feet away he stops, and you shake your head. You’re not saying no. You’re in denial, staring into his storm blue eyes as you realize that all of his suspicions and Tony’s had been correct.

“They have been after me. I mean, we knew that they had been. A little but not like this.”

Thor lifts his head slowly and looks up into your face, his hands tightening around your waist as he watches you look at Steve.

“I don’t think any of us expected this to be as complicated as it’s turning out to be. Will you come look in her hut with me? Maybe a fresh set of eyes can-?”

“No.” Thor states, slowly rising from his position at your feet to stand at full height. His arm muscles flex, rippling threateningly as he moves himself to stand in front of you.

“Thor…” You begin but he doesn’t even look at you.

“You promised me that no harm would come to her. You broke your promise. From here on out you do not-”

Anger courses through you and you react instinctively, rising up onto your feet. “Hey, that’s enough.”

Thor looks confused and you’re glad to see that your abilities are working again.

“I understand your fear, Thor. I do.” You reach out and take hold of his hand. He grips it tightly and looks down at your angry face. “But you weren’t there. Things happened with these people when you were with Jane and I need to know what they want with me. I need to know what they want with Sophia. I need to pull this string.”

Thor turns to face you, grabs your elbows and lowers his voice, pleading with you. “Some strings are best not pulled. Look at what happened in that room. You are not safe.”

“Thor, I know you’re scared. So am I. That’s why I need to see where this leads. They want us for something. Sophia and me? I need to know what for. She is important to someone to. I can’t just ignore her plight because it’s dangerous.” You look over at Steve and gesture towards him. “Steve was quick in there. He saved me, protected me like he promised he would. I’m safe with Steve.”

Thor looks at Steve and glares. “History would suggest otherwise. It was under your watch that they almost killed you, do you not remember?”

“I do. But he also knew to call you because he knew that you’d stop at nothing to save me. Puppy, please…I need to know. And you can’t stop me.” You remind him, harshly. You don’t mean to, it just comes out that way.

You regret it almost instantly. He releases you, his eyes shifting in disbelief and pain as you insinuate that with your abilities you can make him do whatever you want. And in this case, you’re willing to use them. He takes a step back from you and you panic, quickly moving to keep the distance between you small. You reach up, grab the front of his suit by his chest and pull him back towards you.

“I don’t want to do this without you, Thor but I need you to let me follow this lead.” You shake your head, fearful that you’re driving a wedge between the two of you so shortly after your wedding. You were supposed to still be on your honeymoon! “Please, please come on this journey with me. Hm?”

“You are willingly putting yourself and our child in danger.” You sigh as his words fall hard on your heart making the guilt twist your stomach.

“No, that’s not-” You begin.

“Do what you like. I have no way to stop you.” He looks away from you to Steve and then with that same flash of strange emotion that you’d seen in the viewing room, he turns and walks down the hallway.

“Thor…” You call out to him and follow a few steps. He opens his hand and you quickly move aside as Stormbreaker flies through the air and into his grip. He rounds the corner leaving you and Steve in the hallway alone, taking your heart with you. “Fuck.”

You sit yourself back down and chew on your lip as you struggle with two impulses. One to chase Thor, the other to go with Steve and see what you can find in his friend’s hut. Steve seems to read your silence and he moves to stand closer.

“We’ll only be fifteen minutes. Twenty tops.” He keeps his voice low trying hard not to steer you in the direction of choosing Thor.

“Let’s go.” You get up and wait for him to lead the way.

“This is where she lives?” You look around the circular room, a simple bed a little bigger than a twin sits against the far wall of the hut. This is not what you’d been expecting.

“No. This is Bucky’s hut. This is where she was staying when they took her.” Steve explains.

Seeing as this is Wakanda, you had been expecting something more modern and less primitive. The floor is natural, the walls a painted light orange adobe. The ceiling was thatch and clay. The inside furnishing of the hut is simple. Aside from the bed there’s a small table with two chairs, a brick and stone cooking pit on the right wall. A small shelf with some books and a cabinet with cups and plates beside the pit. There’s a smaller set of drawers by the bed where you expect there will be clothes. What draws your attention, however, is the broken picture frame sitting on the drawers.

You move to it and lift the photo. You find yourself staring down at a man with long brown hair that falls just above his shoulders. His face is handsome, dark, with a full beard but his steel blue eyes sparkle as he smiles out towards you. He has his arm around a girl who, for one fleeting moment, you think is you. She looks so much like you that it seems impossible. A doppelganger maybe? How could she look so much like you?

“Is this her?” You hold the picture out to Steve and he takes it. He runs his hand along the broken glass and nods.

“Yes. It’s her and Bucky.” His eyes glaze over with pain as he looks at their smiling faces. Wanting the pain to stop, he hands you back the photo and moves to stand by the doorway.

You stare down at the picture again, reading the expression of pure joy on both her and Bucky’s faces. The love they have for each other pours from their eyes up at you and takes your breath away as you think about Thor and wonder if you’ve ruined the trust he has in you. You hadn’t meant to threaten him with your ability but as you’d walked here with Steve, you realized that’s exactly what you’d done.

Either you let me go or I will make you let me go.

You put the frame down, shutting your eyes as you struggle to push past the guilt again.

“Why didn’t you tell me she looks so much like me?” You take a breath then turn to look at Steve.

Steve shrugs. “I guess I didn’t realize how similar you looked until right now.”

He’s never had reason to compare and you can understand that.

“It’s eerie though, Steve.” You look down at the photo again and simply stare at it. This Sophia in the picture, she was so happy in this photo. You know why she’s been staying here, in Bucky’s hut without needing to ask. If Thor was suddenly gone, taken from you the way Bucky must have been taken from her, you’d haunt his room and his things just to be near him again.

“Are you still angry with me?” He suddenly asks, and his tone pulls your attention back to him.

“What?” You ask, confused.

“What I said outside of the interrogation room. About everyone not being as willing to-”

“I know what you said. You don’t need to repeat it.” You sigh, looking away, your mind once more driven back to that afternoon by the lake. Your rendezvous spot on the peninsula where many afternoons were spent cuddled up in his arms. Kisses and declarations of love thrown in for good measure, just to make your heart hurt.

“I didn’t mean to-”

“But you did. You threw it in my face like my asking you to open up to me had been wrong. I just wanted to know you. I wanted you to let me love you and you wouldn’t.” You shake your head, the pain of what you now realize had been a rejection every single time you’d asked him to open up to you, washes over you and makes your stomach clench uncomfortably.

“Y/N-”

“It’s for the best.” You assure him. “If you had let me in, then maybe I wouldn’t be where I am now.”

You reach down and rub your stomach gently. You think about the pendant around your neck and the armor retracts leaving you in just your suit.

“I wouldn’t give up my bean for anything now. Or anyone.” Your mind shoots to the time-travel watch and you finally acknowledge that no, not even to bring back this Sophia’s Bucky would you give up your bean. It’s wrong of you and you don’t care. Eager to move on from this terribly painful conversation you bring your focus back on the missing girl.

“There’s nothing here, Steve. Is this how the hut was found? Clean? The only broken thing the picture?” You turn, and you realize your abilities must have given out on you again because you hadn’t heard him cross the room towards you.

You come face to face with his chest and stare for a moment before you look up into his storm blue eyes. He stares down at you, conveying his grief with such intensity that it takes your breath away. The way his blonde hair falls across his forehead, itching to be put back into place, makes your fingers twitch.

“You haven’t been able to sneak up on me in a while.” You tell him, he doesn’t respond.

You recover quickly and stare back at him with unphased curiosity.

“There was no sign of struggle in here but the ground outside was slightly torn up which means they probably took her while she was tending to Bucky’s goats.” Steve speaks quietly, a whisper, intimate and pained.

“Steve…” You begin, disappointed that he’s doing this now. You don’t want to do this now. Or ever. This should not be happening.

His hand is suddenly on the base of your stomach. It moves along the surface of your uniform making your hands tingle and your breath catch. His index finger finds the small slash from the knife he’d plunged into your stomach and he traces the tear. You swallow hard. You hadn’t been expecting to be this close to him. To feel this intimate with him again. Ever. But your pounding heart tells you that you’re still not over him. Not even close. And it fills you with terror and guilt.

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly. “For hurting you. For failing you.”

Did he mean the knife wound or something else?

“Steve what are you doing?” As his finger suddenly makes contact with the flesh of your stomach through the tear in your suit you quickly reach up to grab his hand and hold him still. He needs to stop touching you.

“I didn’t know that shutting you out like I did…I set us up for failure.”

“Steve, please don’t do this. We said our goodbyes in London.” You sigh, hating the way your heart is lurching.

“I could have kept you if I’d only been willing to let you in.” He realizes, pained and saddened by his late realization.

“No.” You shut your eyes and breathe in deeply, your breath shaking as you inhale. You feel the heat of his body move closer and you shake your head, trying hard not to cry.

“I would have married you.” He whispers, and the words fill your body with warmth.

You steel your nerves and tear your eyes open, hating him for bringing this up now. “But you didn’t. And I am married. To Thor. Which is where I would have ended up anyway. I would have chosen Thor, Steve. Every time.”

You can see the ache of his heart in his eyes and you know it’s reflected up at him in yours. He reaches around your waist, pulling you closer but you rip your body away from him and move across the hut, hand pressed against your chest as you try and calm yourself.

“What’s going on here, Steve?” You turn to look at him and find him sitting on the edge of Bucky’s bed.

You can see the pain, but you also see the guilt and the shame and a deep sadness. And though the pain is yours and the shame is yours, the sadness is not for you.

“Is everything okay with Sharon?” You realize that there’s something bigger happening here.

“I thought that things were progressing with us. That she was letting me in but-I meant it when I told you that now I know how you felt, trying to get me to open up to you. She won’t let me in.”

You sigh with relief. He was having relationship problems! Duh. This was why he was reaching out towards you when he shouldn’t be.

“Steve, she’s been through a lot. You need to be patient with her. Give her time and if she needs space then give her space.” Why the hell didn’t she need space when he was still with you?!

“I don’t know if that’s enough. I feel like I have to prove to her that I really want to be with her and I don’t know how to do that.”

“Then ask her. And maybe stop seeing your ex so much? Especially alone?” You smile, move back towards him and sit beside him on the bed. You reach out and take his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m going to give you some advice. No one can topple your walls unless you let them. Sometimes you have to take the first step and lower your own defenses before you can expect someone else to lower theirs. The only reason Thor and I have been able to grow together is because we talk about the things that matter. If you’re feeling shut out, then tell her you are. Ask her what you can do to help her let you in and if it’s time that she needs she’ll tell you. Don’t let your fears and insecurities cloud your judgement. I saw the way she looked at you at the compound. She loves you, Steve. Don’t make assumptions and just ask. It’s what I should have done with you when I saw you drifting away from me when she came back into your life. Even though I was afraid you’d only shut me out more, I should have asked. Maybe we both would have ended up where we belonged that much sooner?”

Steve nods, then shakes his head, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “You make me sound like a real jerk.”

“Well, you were talking to your ex behind my back. Hiding it from me wasn’t exactly a good-guy move.” You smile at him, over the hurt you’d felt with the sneaking around he did to hide his friendship with Sharon from you.

“Guess not.” He admits.

“Talk to her, Steve. You’re not going to get anywhere in your relationship if you don’t communicate.”

“Yeah.” He agrees. You squeeze his hand and he looks over at you and smiles, squeezing your hand back.

You get up and move towards the arched hut doorway and move out into the afternoon sun. Steve follows you.

“Where are you going?” He asks, stopping just outside the hut as you continue to walk.

“To go apologize to Thor. And to tell him he can’t control me. And that I love him.” You hope he’s not too angry and that he’s willing to forgive you.

“Good luck.” Steve chuckles.

“And Steve?” You stop and turn to look back at him.

“Yeah?” He says, smirking at the idea of you telling Thor that he can’t tell you what to do.

“Please don’t hug me like that again.” The energy between the two of you suddenly shifts and it’s painful again. He stares at you and you can see the yearning in his eyes the way you feel it in your body. How much longer is this going to remain between the two of you? You’re happy you’re married to Thor and that’s where you want to be. That’s where you belong. But as soon as Steve’s arms had found their way around you, both of you were back in that apartment in London, so desperate to be together but knowing that you never could be.

Steve nods. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You shake your head, hating the way you really enjoyed being in his arms again. “But don’t let it happen again. I’m married. And we’re over.”

“I know.” He sighs.

The two of you stare at each other for a minute before you look towards the hut and remember the girl in the photo. “I’ll try again with the prisoner when he wakes up.”

This time you were going to make sure Thor was in the room with you.

“We’ll find her, Steve.” You assure him with a firm nod and a cementing desire to meet her in person. If this girl was like you, special to the Shadow for whatever reason, you need to meet her, and you realize that you’ll stop at nothing until you do.

@bionic-buckyb @mdgrdians @ulired @biawol @markusstraya @queenof-wakanda @slice-of-thunder @clockworkherondale @shonaldo @lilulo-12 @dsakita @just-trying-to-survive-marvel @coldfacedwarf @zoey-odinson-stark @animegirlgeeky @paetonsfandom @caramelsunrise @until-theend-oftheline @a-n-gela @dirtylittlelamb @moonlessnight14 @angelenemies

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the-pontiac-bandit · 8 years ago

Text

all the way home i’ll be warm

so, thanks to @jakelovesamy for the prompt, and to her and @elsaclack for all of the help!! i’m only including the prompt because it seems important that y’all all know that this started as a creepy cabin drabble. (title is from “let it snow” bc yes i Obviously wrote a christmas fic in mid-june)

99. “We’re in an abandoned lodge in the middle of nowhere. Sure, you’re totally right, nothing bad could ever happen here.”

Jake Peralta has never enjoyed the outdoors. Sure, that one Cub Scouts camping trip in first grade was pretty fun, but that was mostly because his dad was Assistant Scoutmaster that year, and Jake got to stay up until the sun started to rise, making s’mores with Charlie Daniels and his brother. Adult Jake Peralta prefers snow plows, massage chairs, modern insulation, and easy-access delivery food.

Which makes the fact that he agreed to spend Christmas in a cabin in the middle of nowhere in upstate New York with his new wife’s family a remarkable testament to just how much he loves said new wife.

Of course, the Santiagos are a remarkably awesome bunch of people. Victor warmed up to him - finally - when Jake told the Santiagos about his intentions to marry Amy. He showed them the ring, and Victor decided that anyone who had managed to save up that much money with a credit score below 200 was plenty tenacious enough to be a Santiago. Her brothers, meanwhile, had warmed to him as soon as they learned how much he loved basketball and good cop movies (Luis once told him that there were so many Santiago brothers it wasn’t even that noticeable when they picked up a few extra along the way. Jake had never felt more thrilled to be so entirely a part of something).

Even with all that awesome, being snowed in with all of the Santiagos in an eight-bedroom “cabin” (it’s definitely way too large for that title, and yet still somehow too small for all seven brothers, their spouses, and the kids) for four days over Christmas was not his idea of a dream vacation. Jake has no idea exactly how many nieces and nephews he now has, but he knows that there are at least twenty children that made it to the cabin ranging from scarily-new infants to surly teenagers, and they all call him Tio Jake with an excitement that warms his heart.

That many kids with that few bedrooms, though, means that someone is always sleeping somewhere strange. Usually on the floor. Definitely at a weird time of day. And Jake definitely almost steps on them on his way to the kitchen for more Cheetos (Manny brought a seemingly endless supply - he keeps pulling more from his car every time the boys finish a bag. Jake is eternally grateful).

Amy always seems to know who’s sleeping where (she also knows all of their names, of course, because she’s a perfect aunt who filled up their entire trunk with personalized gifts for each child and all her brothers, leaving Jake with a much better understanding of why they couldn’t afford Paris).

There is a constant hum of noise in the cabin. On the first day, which Jake obnoxiously calls Christmas Eve-Eve to anyone who will listen, everyone is in and out - exploring the nearby town, enjoying the fresh air, playing games of soccer on frozen ground that gives Jake a bruise on his hip when he tries to bicycle kick for the winning point. All in all, a great first day.

Then, that night, the snow starts to fall. At first, it’s some flurries. Just enough snow to be romantic - when it falls, it’s light and fresh, and Jake’s been to the country before, but just rarely enough that seeing fresh, fluffy snow surrounding him is a novelty. The Santiagos, who grew up with a huge backyard and spent their winters rolling around in snow that no dogs had peed in, were less impressed, and thought he was insane for wanting to spend that much time in the woods in the snow at night.

But then Amy walked outside with Jake in her heaviest parka, and they stood together and watched it fall, illuminated by the faded light coming out of the cabin, where the Santiagos were playing the largest game of Apples to Apples he’d ever seen. Everything was perfect, and just a little bit magical, and when he leaned down to kiss her, he could see the snowflakes that had settled on her eyelashes.

Jake is thoroughly enjoying the feel of her lips against his, even if that’s the only skin-to-skin contact available with all the layers, even though the pom pom on top of his hat is slowly pulling the entire garment forward to cover his eyes, but it ends when Amy decides her hands are freezing - even in their wool mittens - and tells him very pointedly that if he likes what her hands were going to do later, he’d best go inside and save them from frostbite. After that, he moves very quickly back towards the fire the Santiagos lit in the living room (carefully guarded by the oldest cousin, college freshman Anna, to prevent any accidental burns to the five year-old twins racing past).

Everything is perfect until the next morning, Christmas Eve, when he wakes up to nearly two feet of snow on the ground outside. Of course nothing is plowed and of course their cars are buried and of course there are somehow now nearly forty people stuck in what used to feel like a very large “cabin” and Jake’s thinking everyone should have just gotten hotel rooms in the city instead, no matter how pretty the untouched snow is.

Jake and Amy are up ridiculously early, thanks to the wails of the baby that radiate from the room they share walls with. Jake gently pushes Amy back to sleep when she starts to get up to go take care of her niece - she never lets herself sleep, and she’s been absolutely exhausted lately. She deserves this.

So Jake finds himself in the kitchen with Luis, Manny, and Joel, sitting in flannel pajama pants and overlarge matching t-shirts (Joel designed Family Reunion 2018 shirts. Jake never wants to take his off). Children are playing quietly around him - all of them are aware that moms, dads, and older siblings are trying to sleep, and they’re Santiagos, so of course they’re complying. Jake’s enjoying his Frosted Flakes (also courtesy of Manny), and reveling in the early morning quiet (at least, compared to Santiagos at full volume), compounded by the thick coat of snow on the ground outside.

It’s Luis who breaks the comfortable silence, clearing his throat and shifting in his seat. His daughter Lucia, just barely three months old, is cradled in his arm, and he’s clutching a steaming cup of black coffee for dear life with the other hand.

“Man, thank God she fell back asleep. Sometimes she just won’t stop crying in the mornings, and I can’t exactly take her outside in this weather. Would’ve been a fun wakeup call for everyone.”

Joel shoots a pointed look at his little brother, just fourteen months older than Amy. “But it’s so worth it. I remember when the twins were that little - a handful, but the best gift I could have asked for.” His gaze rests squarely on Jake, looking inquisitive, and Jake squirms a little bit under the intense stare.

Manny jumps in shockingly quickly to support his brother. “Yeah, Sarah and I only got married a year ago, but we’re already talking about it - we just can’t wait to have some of our own. What about you, Jake? Any kids in your future?”

Jake laughs a little, feeling a bit uncomfortable but brushing it off - brothers must talk like this all the time. “Oh, I’d say they’re definitely somewhere down the line, but definitely not anytime soon. There’s a life calendar hanging above our bed that says no kids until Amy’s a lieutenant, at least.”

Luis starts to laugh, but he’s quickly silenced by Joel, nearly thirteen years his senior, elbowing him in the side. He swallows his giggles, looking furtively at Jake, but their new brother-in-law hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.

They talk about their kids for a while, and Jake explains the elaborate color-coding system that Amy devised to pack for this four-day vacation. Then the boys give Jake, whose past experience with Christmas has been iffy and mostly related to Santa Claus, the lowdown on the innumerable Santiago family Christmas traditions.

The calm lasts until nearly 7:30, when Isabel Santiago emerges from the master bedroom, Victor looking a little sheepish at her heels. Jake had quickly learned at his first family event with the Santiagos that for all his commanding presence, Victor Santiago is constantly a little cowed and a little quiet when his wife is around. Isabel is furious that anyone let her sleep this late when there are grandbabies to feed and snowball fights to be had and children to catch up with. Jake quickly vacates the kitchen, knowing full well that any cooking done in his presence will quickly devolve into spilled batter and (somehow inevitably) explosions.

Back in his room, he decides to brush his teeth and hair and make some pretense to his new family that he’s less messy than this. His toiletries are stored carefully in the bathroom, in a nice case Amy got him to replace the messy gallon-Ziploc that never quite dried that he previously relied on. Everything is perfectly packed, and he knows exactly where it is. But when he tries the door, it’s locked.

“Amy,” he calls softly, not wanting her brothers to hear them through the frustratingly thin walls (seriously, how did Amy do this for eighteen years?).

“Jake? What do you need?” Amy’s voice is terse, barely audible. The shower isn’t running, so Jake decides she must be using the bathroom. He tries the handle again, wondering if it was just stuck, but nope - still locked.

Amy’s voice comes through the door again. “Can it wait, babe?”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

Then two minutes pass. Then three. The toilet never flushes, and he can smell French toast being fried in the kitchen all the way from their tiny bedroom in the back.

“Babe? I just need my toothbrush.”

“Just two more minutes, Jake. Please.” Her voice is tense, stressed, and a little hoarse, and he’s not entirely sure why.

“This is taking forever,” he whines. Then, a pause. “Babe, are you,” he brings his voice down to a whisper, “pooping?”

There’s a cough, then few seconds of silence from inside the bathroom. Then, a relieved sigh. “Yes, Jake. I’m pooping.”

“Amy, I’ve seen you poop before. Let me in.”

“How on earth am I going to do that?”

“Right.”

And he waits patiently until - finally - he hears a toilet flush, and she lets him in. The bathroom smells a little musty, reminding him somehow of their bathroom the week they both had the stomach flu. Her face is a flushed, and her eyes are a bit wild, darting around the way that they do when she’s stressed or anxious. Before he has time to question it or make sure she’s okay, though, he hears Manny call from just inside the door to their room that breakfast is ready and everyone else is eating. Amy replies that they’re coming, so Jake pours some toothpaste in his mouth, swallows quickly, and follows his wife (he’ll never get tired of thinking that) out the door.

All of the Santiagos are gathered around every flat surface in the living area of the cabin, each with a steaming pile of French toast, bacon, and strawberries. All of the weirdness of this morning is forgotten as he plops on the couch next to Luis with his own plate, leaving a corner of the couch for Amy. The pair immediately start discussing the Knicks’ playoff prospects with a few Santiago nephews sitting on the floor nearby (Jake’s pretty sure their names are Robert and Matty, but he can't be entirely sure. Everyone looks alike - those Santiago genes are strong.)

He’s so busy trying to convince his new family that the Knicks will win tomorrow by a full 70 points that he doesn't notice that Amy spends most of the meal taking deep breaths and leaves her French toast, her favorite breakfast, almost entirely untouched.

As soon as the conversation lulls, the sound in the room transitioning from lively conversation to quiet groans of sated contentment, Amy jumps up to start collecting plates. Her mother quickly follows, as she always does. They wave off all help (although not much is offered - everyone is far too full to move) from brothers and spouses, and even from Jake, and mother and daughter bustle off to the kitchen together.

Moms and dads, startled by the sudden lack of a syrup-covered plate in their lap, jolt to alertness, rushing to scrub powdered sugar, syrup, and orange juice off the faces of their children before they can ruin the furniture in the rented cabin. In the midst of the sudden reinstatement of chaos, Joel’s wife Mari stares at Jake, catching and holding his eyes. Then, seemingly unintentionally, her gaze shifts from him to the still-open kitchen door, out of which the clinking sounds of dishware being washed are emerging over the tumult of voices in the living room.

He gets the message (he thinks - that was a pretty weird look) and gets up to help his wife in the kitchen. He’s happy to go help anyway - after all, he has nothing to do to help clean up the plethora of nieces and nephews surrounding him, and he likes to be useful.

He’s stopped dead in his tracks at the door to the kitchen, though. Isabel Santiago is giving him a terrifying glare that is - like Amy’s - eerily reminiscent of that of a middle school librarian. It stops him in his tracks, and somehow, he knows to stay there. But instead of abandoning the room, going back to play with Robert and Matty, the eight year-olds who informed him during breakfast that he’s the coolest uncle they know, he backs away and sneaks behind the door, watching through the crack between the hinges, so that Mrs. Santiago doesn’t know he’s there.

Amy is gesticulating wildly at her mother, clearly frantic. When her hands reach up to start twisting her hair, though, her mom grabs them gently, says something, and pulls her only daughter into a hug. He can’t make out what’s being said over the din of the room behind him, but the cadence sounds distinctly like Spanish, so he knows he wouldn’t be able to follow even if everyone else would just shut up.

He’s relieved, though, to see Amy’s shoulders relax into her mother’s arms. He’s not sure what’s wrong, but clearly her mother has it under control. The sight of Amy’s breath steadying, her hands relaxing, calms him - whatever it is clearly can't be that bad.

And he's right. He’d returned to his room to change out of pajama pants (although this is the perfect kind of day for a pajama-jammy-jam) when Amy walks in, hugging him from behind and pressing her face into his shoulder.

He lets her stay that way for a few seconds, before pulling her arms just loose enough that he can turn around in her grip and properly hug her back. They stay that way, uninterrupted and holding each other close, for far longer than they should be able to, what with every single child in the house barging into their room at all hours to get some one-on-one time with their favorite aunt.

Finally, she pulls back, placing a quick peck on his lips before opening the top drawer of the dresser to find jeans and a sweater (before Amy, Jake didn't even know you could unpack on vacation, so he takes a second to marvel at the fact that he doesn't even have the opportunity to wreck the organization of their shared suitcase).

“So...you're okay?” he asks, a little tentatively.

Her back stiffens when he asks, and she freezes, one pants leg on, the other leg in the air. Then, in just a second, she's back to normal. In a carefully measured voice, she replies, “Yeah, babe, I’m fine. Why wouldn't I be?”

“I saw you talking to your mom, and you looked pretty upset.”

“Oh, that!” she replies, just a little too quickly. “I forgot the present for Mateo, and I didn’t know what to do, but my mom had an extra, so we’re giving him that!”

Jake’s pretty sure that he remembers writing Mateo’s gift tag himself, is almost certain it’s sitting near the side of the pile in their trunk, but he knows better than to argue. If Amy says it’s not there, then it’s definitely not there.

And then they hear Victor calling for them to come help decorate the Christmas tree that Diego drove up from New Jersey for the cabin, so instead of protesting, he grabs her as her head pops through the crew neck of her sweater (her softest one, which makes it by far his favorite) and plants a firm kiss on her lips. She laughs through it, wiggling away and protesting that we can’t do this, Jake, my dad might be coming in!

But then, when they hear her father’s footsteps fade into the background, she turns around and surprises him with a quick kiss before walking off, expecting him to follow. He does, but only after spending a few seconds marveling that the woman walking off with a new bounce in her step and a swing in her shiny ponytail is married to him.

Jake emerges into the crowded living room only a few steps behind his wife to happily discover that most of the younger children have been sent outside to play and release some energy. This means that the living room, while still loud - thanks to the room full of Santiagos, whose grasp of volume control is iffy at best - is full of the hum of polite conversation, rather than the screams of children trying to play tag between the boxes of ornaments, provided by Isabel.

When everyone sees them enter, though, the conversation comes to an abrupt halt. All eyes are trained on Jake and Amy, standing a few feet apart at the front of the room. Isabel starts to get up, takes a deep breath to say something, and then Amy shakes her head. It’s almost imperceptible, and if her ponytail wasn’t quite so bouncy, Jake wouldn’t have seen it at all.

Immediately, conversation resumes, as though nothing had ever happened, leaving Jake to wonder if he was imagining everything. Still standing in front of everyone, he leans in and whispers the question to Amy, who just shrugs in response - as if to say my family’s weird - deal with it.

So he does. He finds Luis sitting and untangling Christmas lights with Alex, their oldest brother. Alex looks up as Jake sits down, and a smile lights up his face as he claps Jake on the back.

“Congratulations, budd--” Alex is cut off abruptly from a sharp elbow from Luis that Jake definitely did not imagine.

Both men are looking at him warily, looking a little nervous for reasons that Jake can’t even begin to parse. They're silent for 10 seconds, and then 10 more, just watching him expectantly.

Then finally, with a relieved sigh, Luis breaks the silence. “Anyway, Jake, wanna give this string a shot? We can't get this knot out to save our lives.”

So Jake takes the lights they hold out for him and gets to work, doing his best to forget about the weird way that Alex had been staring at him.

Thankfully, untangling the lights turns out to be so consuming that he does manage to put his weird morning out of his mind for a little while. He has no idea how lights could have gotten this bad, until Alex explains that his kids used them as a rope for a hostage situation game that summer and put them away themselves. He’s a little impressed, honestly - figuring out how to untangle these lights might be a harder puzzle than any he's managed to solve with the NYPD.

Finally, though, he is able to hand Victor, who is taking meticulous instructions from Isabel about where the lights should be strung, a perfectly untangled strand of Christmas lights to add to the tree. The children are called back in to add ornaments to the now-lit tree (which stands taller than the trees Jake’s managed to squeeze into any of his apartments). The stomping of boots on the front mat sounds like a herd of elephants entering the house, and it lasts for what feels like an eternity as more and more kids traipse through, tracking an unbelievable amount of snow through the living room on their way to put up their coats.

His job done, Jake moves to the couch and squeezes into the impossibly small space left between Amy and the arm of the couch. Amy, laughing at the noises he makes as he tries to force his butt into the few available inches, gets up, settling on his lap as soon as he sits down.

Her head comes to rest against his shoulder as the kids reemerge, loud and ready to decorate. They watch the tree slowly acquire character via the addition of all sorts of ornaments - from fancy gold family heirlooms that only nineteen year-old Anna and her brother Sam can touch, hung high at the top of the tree, to paper drawings strung with yarn that two year-old Eliza drapes proudly on the bottom branches, balancing tentatively on chubby legs.

Amy slowly snuggles closer as they watch the scene unfold, so that her legs are folded on the couch (she may or may not give Luis, sitting next to them and playing with Lucia, a small kick as she pulls them up, just in case he’s done something today to deserve it), and Jake wraps his arms around her. Two of the thirteen year-olds are making faces at them and pretending to vomit in the corner, but Amy just laughs and plants a kiss on Jake’s cheek to bother her nephews.

Jake notices, when the tree is about halfway done and a few of the brothers are getting up to help their kids even out the ornament distribution (Jake has long-since discovered that Amy comes by her OCD honestly), that Isabel Santiago is watching him closely. She seems to have fixated on his arms, draped lazily over his wife’s (her daughter’s) abdomen. He can't read her expression, despite all his years of detective work, but he sits up straighter, trying to match the professionalism of Joel and his wife, sitting in the opposite corner of the room and gently holding hands in separate chairs.

As he shifts, though, Amy groans her objection, nuzzling her face deeper into his chest. That's when he realizes his wife is half-asleep. So instead, he settles back, deciding Mrs. Santiago must have been looking at something else - a quick glance confirms that she’s now talking to Diego’s wife animatedly about Christmas Eve dinner plans.

Finally, the tree is done. Isabel brings out sandwiches for everyone (Jake has no idea when she had time to make them. He’s at least 80% sure his mother-in-law is magical.), and lunch is finished in 10 minutes flat.

By this time, it's mid-afternoon, and there’s just a few hours until Christmas Eve dinner preparation begins in earnest. Matty and Robert beg their fathers for a snowball fight, and they agree eagerly, and before Jake really realizes what happened, everyone is getting up to go find coats and enjoy the hour or two of true daylight remaining.

Jake wakes Amy up (she claims drowsily that she’s been awake the whole time, thank you very much), and as they get up, Manny and Luis wander over to ask if Jake and Amy will be joining. Jake accepts enthusiastically, but Amy shakes her head.

“I don't think a snowball fight is up my alley today,” Amy apologizes with a yawn.

“Right! Because of the--” Manny starts, and then shuts his mouth so hard his teeth clack.

Amy gives him her special death glare, usually reserved for Charles when he starts talking in meticulous detail about her reproductive system.

Luis just laughs and drags Manny away, but Jake doesn't miss the excited hug Manny and Luis exchange when they think they're out of sight. Things are starting to get undeniably weird, Jake decides, furrowing his brow.

Amy is leading Jake back to their room when they find Isabel herself standing in their path. “Amy, could I borrow Jake for a moment? I need help with something, and your brothers are useless.”

Amy tries to glare at her mother, telling her silently to back off. But Isabel glares right back, and all of a sudden, Jake feels like he’s watching Amy look into a trick mirror at a fair - every mannerism is identical.

To no one’s surprise, Isabel wins, and Amy drops Jake’s hand, throwing one last concerned look over her shoulder as she continues to their room. Amy may have her mother’s glare, but her mother has an extra 37 years of practice.

Isabel starts to walk towards the kitchen, perhaps the only empty room in the house, and Jake follows automatically.

When they get there, she closes the door and turns slowly towards Jake. Slowly, carefully, she says, “You know, Amy loves you. A lot.”

Jake, feeling almost as nervous as when he asked them for their blessing to marry Amy, replies with the first dumb quip that comes to mind: “I’d hope so - we've been married for six months now!”

Isabel chuckles a little at that, seeming to loosen up. "I know. And we're all happy to have you as a part of the family," she reaches up touch his shoulder, her expression turning back to something more serious. "I know Amy likes to take care of herself. She's been like that her whole life - she didn't even want our help as a toddler learning to walk, which didn't go down well. There was the whole puddle incident," Isabel gets a far off look in her eyes for a few seconds before focussing back in on Jake, who has a host of questions about the phrase puddle incident. "I know she likes to take care of herself, but you're taking care of her too, right? We all need a little taking care of sometimes."

"Of course! We take care of each other - when she lets me," Jake shrugs, like it's obvious.

"Thank you," Isabel smiles a warm smile. "I knew I could trust you, Jake. I'm just reminded how lucky I am at times like these, that all my babies grew up and made such perfect families themselves. All these grandbabies!" Isabel gestures around as if there are grandbabies escaping from every crevice of the house (in fairness, they definitely are).

"They're all pretty special," Jake agrees, remembering the chorus of Tio Jake. No two words any adult (except for Amy) could say would make his heart feel so full.

"All so unique, and so precious." Isabel adds. And I just wanted to tell you how thrilled we all are that you all could be here with us this Christmas - I know it was hard to get off work, but it’s good for Amy to be with family, especially this year.”

Jake has already started to spew words about how of course they were thrilled to be here and it was never a question that they'd find a way to make it and they love seeing everyone. And then her last words register, and he pauses, his mind swirling as he looks for any explanation for what she might mean.

"What do you mean this year? Is-" he lowers his voice "is someone sick? Does Amy know?"

"No one's sick," she chuckles softly, "but Amy has been feeling a little under the weather. There's a special tea I have, it used to help me when...I mean, it helps with the nausea. I'll get you some to take up to her." Isabel starts for the cupboards, rifling around in the ones above her head. Jake isn't sure she can even see in there.

"Do you need any help?" He offers, but just then Isabel produces a lilac box and nods approvingly at it.

The tea takes five minutes to make, but Jake's distracted for most of it by Matty, who comes in with a hacky sack, which Jake can't say no to. The kid is surprisingly good, and Jake’s out-of-practice, leading to more than one miss and several repetitions of the phrase, “Aw! I boofed it!”

Isabel finally hands Jake a steaming cup of tea, which he carefully starts to carry back to Amy.

"Make sure she's getting enough sleep, too!" Isabel says as Jake starts turn away.

"Uh...I will, I guess?"

She laughs at his confusion, ruffles his hair (she has to reach up on her tip toes to do it), and hands him a cookie (Jake has no idea where she got it, but Isabel always has cookies. Jake loves her dearly for it).

With that, Jake knows he’s been dismissed. He walks out of the kitchen much faster than he should with the tea, carrying the cookie in his mouth.

When he finally navigates his way towards the glorified closet that he and Amy are sharing this Christmas, he throws open the door dramatically, startling Amy, who’s sitting on the bed wrapping a plain white box in red-and-green patterned wrapping paper (Jake remembers her packing the extra wrapping paper over his strenuous objections about the fact that there are no more gifts to wrap and there’s no possible way that she’s forgotten a gift for anyone - she even had one for Alex’s new puppy.)

“Babe,” Jake says frantically, his mouth still full of cookie, “I think your family is trying to kill us!”

“What?” Jake rarely catches Amy off guard anymore - she knows him almost as well as she knows herself. But he can see clearly that he’s surprised her with this.

“D’you think your brothers are still mad at you for that time you busted their party?” Jake is busy running through a list of every possible reason they could be on a Santiago hit list, but he’s discovering the list is pretty short.

“No way - I was nine!”

“Maybe it’s just me! Maybe they know 145 isn't a good credit score! Ames, what if they discovered I don't have a favorite font?”

At that, Amy gets up off the bed and walks over to him. “Babe, they already know that. And you do have a favorite font - it’s the title font from the Die Hard poster, remember? Everything’s totally normal - nothing bad’s gonna happen.”

The statement was clearly supposed to make him relax, and she turns around to find his coat for him so that he can go outside and join in the snowball fight, but Jake isn't satisfied. Then he notices that the peals of laughter he’s hearing are coming from outside, rather than inside, the house, and he realizes that they must be totally alone inside. The knowledge that they're alone in a snowed-in cabin adds an extra sense of eeriness to the afternoon light filtering through the clouds.

“Babe, we’re in an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere. Suuure, you’re totally right, nothing bad could ever happen here.”

Abandoning the search for his coat, Amy grabs him by one hand and drags him back to sit down on the bed with her. “First of all, the cabin isn't abandoned - everyone is, like, ten feet outside the front door. Second, we’re on family vacation - you've been watching way too much true crime if you think someone’s trying to kill us. So what’s bugging you?”

Jake pauses for a moment, takes a deep breath, and then lets everything out in a rush. “Your mom just pulled me aside to make sure I knew to take care of you because you love me and everyone keeps staring at me and Manny congratulated me and I don't know why and you were even being weird about pooping this morning and they’re definitely up to something really freaky, babe!”

And then he’s cut off by Amy’s laughter. She’s fallen backwards on the bed and is clutching her stomach as deep belly laughs escape into the still air of the cabin. Jake just glares at her - he can’t believe she’d be laughing about something this serious! They’re in an abandoned cabin in the middle of the woods (she can’t convince him otherwise) and their lives are on the line!

Finally, slowly, Amy catches her breath. When she’s gotten herself under control enough to speak again, she says the last thing he’d ever expect: “Want an early Christmas present?”

In shock, Jake replies, “Babe! Now is not the time for early Christmas presents! Now’s the time to dig out the car!”

“Jake.” She gives him The Look, the one that means that he’s being ridiculous and he needs to stop and listen. “Open the gift.” And she hands him the mostly-wrapped box that has been sitting forgotten on their pillow.

Still uttering half-hearted protests, he tears at the wrapping paper to expose the plain white box inside (what can he say? He’s a sucker for gifts). It looks vaguely like a box a tie might come in, and he looks up at her. “Santiago, clothes aren’t gonna fix the fact that something creepy is definitely coming.”

“Keep opening, Peralta.”

So he does. When he takes off the top, he looks up at her. She waits patiently for him to look down, to actually register what’s inside the box. When he finally does, his jaw drops as some still-unidentified emotion bubbles up in his stomach.

Because lying inside the box is a positive pregnancy test.

“I took it this morning, when you were with Manny and Luis and I’d woken up to throw up again and Mari bought it for me yesterday when they went into town and I was gonna give it to you first thing tomorrow morning but you’re in the middle of a weird...Jake?”

The sound of his name jerks him out of his reverie. Slowly, he looks up at his wife, a grin painted across his face from ear to ear (he’s pretty sure no one could wipe off this grin - not even the still-possibly-murderous Santiagos playing outside). Then, he’s tackling her back into the pillows at the head of the bed, being careful of her abdomen while their laughter mingles and fills the still-silent cabin.

Their legs are tangled and his arms are wrapped around her and her hands are combing through his hair and he’s never felt this disgustingly, blatantly happy in his life. “Santiago...You’re really pregnant?” he asks, awe saturating every word.

She nods in response, a smile growing quickly on her face. “You’re really happy about it?” she asks.

In response, he shifts forward and kisses her firmly. It’s far from their most graceful kiss - their teeth keep clacking because neither of them can stop smiling long enough to kiss the other properly. Jake doesn’t mind, though, because he’s too distracted by the pure, unadulterated joy that’s radiating up from his chest and out through his face and out through his fingers and the very tips of his toes.

Finally he pulls back. “Yeah,” he answers with a laugh. “I guess I’m pretty happy about it.”

She hits his shoulder lightly, rolling her eyes at her dumb husband that she loves so much. And he’s too busy thinking about the fact that Amy’s pregnant and all of the possibilities that that fact brings to even pretend it hurt. Instead, he shifts one hand slightly, gently, so that it comes to rest just over her belly button.

“You know, you can’t feel him kick yet.”

“I know! And him? It’s obviously a girl that we’re obviously naming Nakatomi!”

“Jake, Santiagos have boys. Always. Trust me, this kid is a boy.” She sounds so sure, but he can’t stop himself from giggling (he might never be able to stop giggling because he doesn’t think happiness this strong will ever wear off. It’s pulsing steadily next to his heart, filling him with the same warmth he felt when he saw Amy do the Double Tuck in her white dress as she walked down the aisle).

“Ames, they had you.”

She’s opening her mouth to retort, but the mention of the Santiagos reminds Jake how this whole conversation started in the first place. “Babe, this is all very exciting and everything, but it has nothing to do with why your family was acting so weird. Either you need to explain or we need to get the hell out of this creepy cabin. Something definitely just creaked and we’re the only ones inside!”

“Jake...that was you. You just moved and the bed creaked. And, to answer your other question, my family...might have known.” She sounds a little sheepish, but mostly she just sounds blissfully happy.

Jake looks at her in obviously fake indignation. “Amy! You told your family before you told me?”

“In fairness to me, my mom actually is the one who told me!”

Jake looks at her a little incredulously. “Babe. Come on. You keep track of everything to the hour. There’s no way you didn’t know about this.”

“I’m serious! I was a little late and pretty tired and nauseous, but didn’t think anything of it. My mom took one look at me and pulled me aside and told me. She’s had so many kids she just knows, Jake. Joel and Alex and my dad figured it out on their own, too - they’ve seen my mom have so many kids it takes them, like, half a second to pick out a pregnant woman. Between the four of them, things...got around pretty quickly. They’re all pretty horrible at keeping secrets.”

“No kidding.” Jake thinks back to the millions of weird looks that he’d forced himself to disregard and the dozen weird conversations he’d had since yesterday morning.

“They just get really excited about new grandkids, and they couldn’t wait for you to be excited, too.” Her voice is soft, as is her smile, and her hand has drifted towards his cheek.

“Trust me. I am.” He leans in to kiss her, a proper one this time. And it’s amazing and fireworks are exploding behind his eyelids and he hasn’t been this truly happy in...maybe ever and she’s rolling him over to straddle him and her hands are finding the buttons on his shirt, but then, a small voice is shouting outside their (thankfully closed) door to come outside. With a startled laugh, they break apart, jumping up impressively quickly to seated positions on opposite sides of the bed. Amy shouts back at her niece that they’ll be out in just a sec, and she begins searching for the coats and boots that they’d thrown off so hastily last night while Jake frantically buttons his shirt.

“There’s really no way we can get out of going outside?” Jake asks, a little disappointed.

“Remember when you were so excited for the snowball fight?” Amy retorts, a huge grin cracking across her face.

“Yeah, but now there are better things to do!”

And with that, Amy hands her husband his coat and boots, grabs his hand, and drags him to the front door. They emerge with his arm over her shoulder and her arm around his waist (she’ll say she just needs to be kept warm, but really she just can’t stay away from him). They watch on the side for a while, and at first, everyone leaves them alone (or at least, no one throws snowballs at them).

Jake’s so busy looking down at his wife, who’s positively radiant, that he doesn’t notice the sappy grins being thrown their way by every single adult in the clearing.

They stay that way, blissfully unaware of the screaming children and the happy smiles from Mr. and Mrs. Santiago and the high fives Manny and Luis are throwing each other because their baby sister is having a baby, for quite a while.

And then Joel ruins it. “Ay! Peralta! Stop making eyes at your wife and get in here!” And then a large snowball hits Jake’s face.

Jake roars with laughter as he bends down to start making his own ammo, but he’s slow - certainly unused to the speed at which Santiagos can form snowballs. He’s getting pelted from all sides, and the kids have joined in, and one dumped a pile of snow down his back while he bent down to make another snowball and he’s going down.

And then Amy throws a snowball. It hits Joel square in the face, and he backs up, sputtering. Manny starts to charge, but he’s gotten a heaping pile of snow to the face before he can get anywhere near her (she’d shifted while everyone was distracted, placing herself strategically behind her parents and using them as a human shield that none of her brothers could touch). One by one, the Santiago brothers and their spouses go down, their children getting distracted by the prospect of tackling their own parents into the snow. Jake’s more than a little impressed with her accuracy - now he knows why her aim with a gun is so good.

And then he’s able to stand up, brushing the snow off his jacket and shaking it out of his hair but mostly looking at Amy, who’s all sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks as she gives her dad a high five. And then Victor Santiago is pulling his daughter into the tightest hug Jake’s ever seen and if he’s not mistaken a tear is leaking out of his eye (no - he must be mistaken - that’s definitely just melting snow) and Amy’s laughing a little and he can see her lips moving, reminding them that it’s still early and they’re not even supposed to know, but none of it seems to resonate because then her mom’s joined in the hug and Luis has found Jake watching all of this unfold.

“Congrats, man.” He pulls Jake into a quick hug, clapping him on the back before he releases him.

“Thanks,” Jake says, and he’s surprised to hear his voice crack a little bit on the word.

“Yes! I finally got to say it!” Luis shouts so loudly that Jake falls back down into the snow, startled.

Later that night, after the Christmas Eve dinner that was so amazing Jake may never need to eat again and the midnight mass that they all had to traipse through the snowy woods to get to, Jake and Amy finally get to lie down, limbs tangled as she rests her head against his chest. She’s in her flannel pajama pants and his academy sweatshirt, and he’s wearing her family’s reunion t-shirt, and he’s maybe never been more in love.

His wife is already three-quarters asleep - it’s almost midnight, and pregnancy has made her constantly, painfully exhausted. But through the thin walls, the sounds of her siblings putting out presents from Santa drift in, and he can’t help but smile. He’s pretty sure it’s Luis who stubs his toe and lets out a string of Spanish curses, and he’s guessing it’s Alex who shuts him up so abruptly. He laughs a little bit, quietly, and Amy shifts against him.

“Next year, that’ll be us, babe.”

She grins up at him, her eyes heavy lidded and her hair already a little mussed in its ponytail. “Can’t wait.”

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #jake x amy #jake peralta #amy santiago #the entire santiago family #literally the entire gang's here #peraltiago fanfic #my writing #ANYWAY YALL #THE CREEPY CABIN AU DRABBLE TURNED INTO A CHRISTMAS PREGNANCY FIC #AND U SHOULD READ IT

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bokunoheroaheadcanons · 7 years ago

Note

how would todoroki, bakugou and deku react to finding out their s/o is trans?

Include a little scenario, I might be iffy on writing scenarios but it’ll be nice including them here.

TODOROKI SHOUTO

Todoroki give his s/o a surprised look. He feels bad that they were so cautious about it and not telling him earlier, he accepts that his s/o is transgender. He doesn’t tend to judge much. Only if it’s his father, then he gets a little gloomy and salty if he treats his s/o badly.

Todoroki gives them a softly smile and pats their head afterwards. He feels very happy for them, and that they can finally be themselves. Unlike him who was having a tough time.

Shouto exchanges a surprised look after being told his s/o was actually a transgender. How didn’t he notice this before, and why didn’t his s/o tell him earlier? Was it because they were scared of him and think that he would shun them away? Of course not! After thinking momentarily, The bi-colored male slowly cleared his throat before replying, giving his s/o a softly smile and reaching his hands out as he placed them upon their head, “Thank you for telling me. I already accept you for who you are, so don’t be afraid of telling me these things okay?”

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

He honestly would feel confused and give his s/o a confused look. He’s starting to question himself about it a little.

But since his feelings doesn’t change for loving his s/o still, he grabs their hands tightly and becomes serious. If they are happy with who they are, then who is he to argue???

Trans? They been dating and they never told him? Bakugou gazed his red orbs towards the ground, thinking to himself deeply. He was feeling a bit confused about this situation, how does he react, what would he say to them? Etc. Whatever it may be, he still loves them for who they are too. “Bakugou…?” His s/o voice snapped him into reality, making him jump. “Bakugou…” The blonde senses their anxiety now which punched him in the gut for feeling bad about it. His attention averted towards their direction without saying a word, then sighing heavily as he took their hands into his grip tightly. “Hey. I’m really proud of you, you know. I still really love you and that won’t change a damn thing, alright? So I’m really happy for you.” Insert his famous grin here.

IZUKU MIDORIYA

Honestly, I don’t think he would even care! Izuku is the type of person who will accept anyone in his path.Even if his s/o is trans, he gets all positives and happy for them right away!

Gives then so many positive comments, hugs and kisses which makes his s/o all shy yet happy.

“S/o, you are who you are and don’t even let negative things get in your way okay? I will always love you, don’t you forget it!” Izuku beamed out happily, his arms extending and reaching out for his s/o to give them a big embrace. “A-Awh… Thank you, Izuku…” A shy smile etched into their face while wrapping their arms around his figure slowly. They were feeling so relieved after confessing to him. “I’m really glad you told me too, it must be hard for you. But don’t worry. I’m always supportive of you. You’re always my s/o!” And then Izuku leaned in to plant many lightly kisses across their fluttering, blushed face. “I-I love you too! T-thank you…~~!!!”

#bnha headcanons #katsuki bakugou #izuku midoriya #todoroki shouto #boku no hero acadmeia

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its-just-like-the-movies · 8 years ago

Text

June 2017 Viewing Log

Same number as last month! Steady stream, though I hope to at least pass 42 next month. Especially since I only got July before school starts. But ah! Film Studies classes. Lordy, what a good month I had, if Barefoot in the Park was the worst thing I’ve seen. Enjoy!

The Crazies (10, B): Tight as a drum, dialing every set piece perfectly, utterly thrilling & scary even if we’ve seen this blueprint before. - 06/01/17

The Help (11, C+): Engaging for its length, but baggy. Structure alone speaks to iffy politics. But Viola Davis holds up like a steel tower. - 06/01/17 (rewatch) (review)

Enough Said (13, B-): Lovely ideas and dynamics somewhat hampered once the full conceit reveals itself. Thank God Gandolfini saves Albert. - 06/03/17 (review)

The Godfather Pt. II (74, B+): So many glories, such powerful, epic ambitions on all fronts, but stumbles a bit for all its glories. - 06/03/17

The Godfather (72, A): No real tweet.

My Dad and I saw The Godfather in the front row in easy chairs and seeing something so epic only two feet from the screen was so perfect - 06/04/17

I’m Not There (07, A): I understand prismatic as a term now. So virtuosic! To paraphrase many great men: “Look at all these Dylans!” - 06/05/17

I learned so much more about Dylan that Thatcher, Belfort, Liz II. And you know where he says he was?

(talking to someone else) I can’t wait to rewatch it. Now that I’ve spent two hours in awe I’ll spend the next two studying it more.

Carnival of Souls (62, B): Low budget, bare-bones plot feels like it could collapse at any moment but this is bizarre, spooky, interesting work. - 06/06/17

The Mourning Forest (07, B): Maybe too into its photography, none too exciting. But it’s tough at its center. I look forward to a rewatch. - 06/06/17

The Edge of Heaven (08, B+): Exciting, unpredictable trajectory with rich rewards. So finely attuned to the emotions of its characters. - 06/07/17

Wonder Woman (17, C): A lot of ways as a film it could’ve been better made. But as an experience it was exciting, and so goddamn important. - 06/08/17

Definitely has some problems in the moment. But my sister cried three times, and its connecting with so many people in a way that matters.

Zodiac (07, B): Triumph of structure and theme, abetted and inhibited by Fincher’s direction. Sets, photography, Lynch pretty swell too. - 06/09/17

Sophie’s Choice (82, D+): So brazen in its appropriation of the Holocaust, and of Sophie, in some Southern babe’s coming-of-age story. - 06/10/17

Streep’s miraculous, but she can’t escape how nasty the film’s structure is to her, and there’s no picture to support this character.

This should have been told from Sophie’s POV, not Stingo’s. That alone would’ve done wonders for this film.

Zootopia (16, B): No tweet.

Jane Eyre (11, B): Again, no tweet.

Capote (05, A-): Cold yet deeply personal, like a gunshot to the head. Evokes real crises of character. Performed, directed to a T. - 6/11/17

It Comes At Night (17, B): Weak jump scares give way to a truly paranoid, scary chamber set-up. Between this and Alien who wastes Ejogo more? - 6/11/17 (review)

The Hurt Locker (09, A): Terrifying, textures every scene and every character so adroitly. So technically prodigious. Bigelow a genius. - 06/12/17

The Grapes of Wrath (40, A-): Filmmaking as sturdy as the Joads. Genuienly timely tale of the working class that honors a doozy of a novel. - 06/13/17

The Bridges of Madison County (95, A): Maturely observes its characters, how they experience their loves, how they judge their lives. - 06/14/17

Two romantic triumphs for Eastwood that seem so outside his usual oeuvre. With every new Streep performance I’m almost crying. She’s perfect.

Magic Mike XXL (15, B): The Odyssey, but with strippers, and a more lackadaisical tone. Cast, changing rhythms hold it together. - 06/15/17

Dark Victory (39, A-): Richly full of feeling, somehow dodging easy sentimentality towards a supremely likable lead, fully realized by Davis. - 06/16/17

Walk the Line (05, C): Baseline quality to high to call rote, but never is it very special. Amazingly, unhelpfully slow and stodgy. - 06/16/17 (review)

Lake Placid: The Final Chapter (12, --): No real tweet, but guys. This was great to watch at 1AM. - 06/18/17

I’ve been thinking a lot about Elisabeth Röhm’s killer work in Joy but that doesn’t explain why I’m semi-enamored with her Lake Placid perf rn

Double Indemnity (44, A-): Crackerjack plotting, slickly realized by Wilder, gorgeously photographed. Inimitable cast. Richly scored. -06/19/17

Red Hook Summer (12, B-): Thematically and emotionally complicated. Filmmaking, story, kids falter frequently. Peters never strays. - 06/19/17

Hyenas (92, A): As absurd & darkly hilarious as many tragedies can be. Magnificently adapted in itself, to West Africa, to African cinema. - 06/20/17

Julieta (16, B): Definite case of not walking in with the right mood, but I still appreciate plenty. Just one I know’ll do better on rewatch. - 06/20/17

The core feels more elusive here than in other Almodóvars, and of course I appreciated it visually. Leads felt like they weren’t adding much.

Female Perversions (97, B+/A-): Characters and concepts come to startling life. Deliciously specific, neurotically and visually captivating. - 06/20/17

The Letter (40, A): Never slows down from the first six shots. Davis and Wyler do psychologically, emotionally rich justice to a lurid tale. - 06/21/17 (review)

Young Adult (11, C): Prickly ideas. Cody barely has consistent characters. Reitman barely shapes it. Theron, Oswalt still get somewhere. 06/22/17

Hope Springs (12, B): Filmmaking ain’t much, but who cares when the result is so earnest invested in its characters, and at their age. - 06/22/17

How lovely to watch for Meryl’s birthday, but equally fitting for Tommy and Steve. How lovely in general.

Blue Valentine (10, A): What would Dean and Cindy have to say to Kay and Arnold? What do they have left to say to each other? - 06/22/17

So adroitly textured, in the past and the present, for the couple and each partner. Wedding bells cross-cut with marital funeral rites.

127 Hours (10, C): Like Steve Jobs, stylistically out of sync with its lead and their story. Compelling, but I took a while to start caring. - 06/23/17

The Omen (76, B): Not all its tricks survive without a laugh, but for the most part this doomed lurch towards biblical tragedy holds up. - 06/24/17

I’m taking back the number of the beast/cuz six is not a pretty number/eight or three are definitely better

Barefoot in the Park (67, C-): So underdone most lines DOA. Useless camera. Redford, Natwick too droll. Fonda too serious. Least Boyer’s fun. - 06/25/17

I canme about 20 minutes late to the broadcast. But lord even when the film was playing I felt I wasn’t missing much.

Metropolis (27, A): Endlessly fascinating realization of revolutionary acts, cinematically and politically. Relevant in best and worst ways. - 06/25/17

Macbeth (15, B): Haunted by actions its character have and have yet to take. Smart choices, vividly realized, by Lord and Lady especially. - 06/26/17

Could Atlas (12, C): Ambitious, fine, and accomplished in many ways. Yet why am I so underwhelmed? Six stories end in three places. - 06/26/17

Maybe because every take I find online is so one way or the other I can’t get much out of them. I can’t grasp it and no one’s helping.

Maps to the Stars (15, C+): Not sure how well Cronenberg’s style fits Wagner’s scripts. Not sure about much beyond Moore(!!), honestly. 06/27/17

Damsels in Distress (12, B+): I know people like this. Delightfully absurd, kind to the characters it skewers. Sambolas across a tightrope. - 06/28/17

Night of the Iguana (64, C): Coulda used more guts, especially in coloring its sexualities. Gardner a blast. Burton, Hall, camera intrigue. - 06/30/17

Okja (17, B+): Poignantly zany, doing that societal satire thing way better than Snowpiercer. Almost feels child-friendly. Hug the pig. - 06/30/17

Additional Review: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (16, yuck) (review)

#month logs #my posts #my reviews

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the-record-columns · 6 years ago

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May 8, 2019: Columns

The weather is what it is...

By KEN WELBORN

Record Publisher

Anyone who has ever talked to me about the weather and its potential to affect whatever event or gathering had been planned would probably have heard me say: “Well now, if I were in charge of the weather, I surely wouldn't have to worry about peddling any advertising for a living--now would I?”

The Record has been mighty lucky with the weather at all of our events, and I am counting on another beautiful Memorial Day Weekend for May 24 and 25th’s ChickenFest.

The recently completed MerleFest in April always has iffy issues with the weather, whether it is simply rain, or the Friday wind we all endured as tents seemed ready to fly away part if the time. At the VFW Campground they even had to deal with the dreaded capsized porta-john issue--thanks to the same windstorm.

In my opinion, the first edition of Wilkesboro's Carolina in the Fall a few years ago was truly a wet one. Wetter by far than the worst weather ever at the Rotary Club's Wilkes Agricultural Fair—an event widely known to be able to break a drought of Biblical proportions. My mother, Cary, however, would always look for the silver lining in every circumstance (cloud), and that is just not a bad thing to do.

So, back to the inaugural Carolina in the Fall. The Rotary Club of North Wilkesboro was in charge of looking after the sale of the artists. CD's, T-shirts, posters, hats and other assorted items at the Carolina in the Fall music festival in Wilkesboro. I was scheduled to work both nights, and on Friday I slipped out of the tent long enough to catch part of Rhonda Vincent and the Rage's set. It was beginning to get dark and the faithful were well bundled up, raincoats of many colors could be seen, and some brought their own pop-up tents and tarps. They were there for the music and by George they were going to stay and hear it—ankle deep water in places be damned.

After one their songs, Rhonda Vincent took a few moments to thank those who were hanging in there in spite of the weather. She then recounted a story of her days as a youth playing with her father's group. As the story went, they worked weekends in many places but played most Mondays through Fridays in Branson, Missouri. As I recall, she said they played five one-hour shows a day in Branson. One morning show there was a torrential rain storm and there was not a person in the audience—not one, she swears. Vincent said that she and her young brother were far less than excited about playing to an empty venue and said so, wondering aloud why even bother. Their father stopped them cold in their tracks and assured them that, while there was no one there, that was not the issue. He told them they were being paid to do five shows a day, and they were going to do the best show they could—every time—regardless of the circumstances.

The family then went on to do the show from start to finish to their fathers satisfaction—including her and her brother, who by then dared not to do their best.

Vincent went on to say that it wasn't too long after that that their group was invited to play on the Grand Ole Opry and that exposure got them lots of other opportunities, and was a real boost to their careers. She called the name of the man from the Grand Ole Opry who was in charge of booking acts at that time, but I cannot recall it. At any rate, her dad asked him how he came to invite them to play the Opry, and he told him he was on vacation with his family in Branson, Missouri recently. While there, he said he happened heard their group play to an audience of empty chairs while the rain poured down. He told them he and his family were around the corner under a bit of shelter, and he figured any group that would put on that good a show for no one, would certainly play well for an audience. The rest, as they like to say, is history.

My mother, Cary, would simply smile and nod knowingly.

Southern Hospitality Will Get You Every Time

By HEATHER DEAN

Record Reporter

Southern Hospitality: Disambiguation

“A phrase used in American English to describe the stereotype of residents of the Southern United States as particularly warm, sweet, and welcoming to visitors to their homes, or to the South in general.”

I imagine growing up in small town America is the same as it is here. ‘Please and thank you’ are second only to ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ in our learned vocabulary. Manners are as important as the perfect banana pudding recipe, and no one knows a stranger. People who have never met wave in passing on highways and speak to each other walking down the sidewalks.

Seems like the perfect American scenario. Until, it isn’t.

I had popped into a local owned landscaping and garden shop, perusing the plethora of beautiful hanging baskets, abundant with a variety of colorful blooms. The place was packed, as it was a lovely day. People were picking out herbs, flowers, yard décor and reveling in the fact that perhaps, just maybe, winter has finally left us. The staff was helpful, people smiled and greeted each other in the isles as they passed. It was like a live ad out of Southern Living Magazine. In my pollen covered bliss, it was lost upon me that Mother’s Day, is in fact, this weekend.

There I was, minding my own business, standing in line to pay. The lady in front of me commented on the lovely color arrangement. The lady at the register commented on my good choice of a basket that still has blooms so that it won’t fade in a few days. Southern Hospitality dictates that we not be within 10 feet of someone without striking up a conversation like we’ve known them all our life, you know. I however, hate small talk and find it mundane, though I always answer politely, because I was raised with manners.

Walking to my car, I was lost in thought about my flowers and how lovely they would look on my porch. It’s the little things that make me happy. I was unaware of the lady walking practically beside me, her arms full of flowers as well. “Those are pretty. Are they for your mom?” she asked, rather loud, and assumingly, like any proper southern woman would in such close proximity.

And that’s when it happened. Being half-Yankee I never mastered the mindless but kind retorts and head nod of the Charming Southern Belle. At least, not without the obviousness of certain passive- aggressiveness, as my facial expression, especially the arched eyebrow, give me away every time. As is my usual undoing, I answered her immediately and pragmatically, as this Heather does. “No. My mom’s dead.”

After a few steps I realized she was not walking with me anymore. I turned to look at her and see if she needed help carrying her things. The look on her face said it all. I had committed the blasphemous faux pas of answering honestly, not lady-like and she was not pleased. In fact, she looked a bit miffed. I tried to feel bad about it, honestly I did, but it took all I had not to burst out laughing. Well, in my defense, that’s what she gets for asking, bless her heart…

Note:

In all seriousness, please remember that the holidays are hard for many of us, as we don’t have our loved ones with us on these days.

Over 700 rockets land in Israel

By EARL COX

Special to The Record

Friday nights mark the beginning of Shabbat for every Jew in the world and for all of Israel. It's a time when merchants stop selling and the public stops buying, and work comes to an end to honor G-d and to rest from six days of labor. Hamas, however, is ever vigilant to stir up trouble. Beginning this past Friday night, May 3rd, sometime around 10:30 p.m. EST up to the very moment of this writing, Hamas has been hurling rockets into southern Israel.

So far, more than 700 rockets have landed and still counting. Israel retaliated with precision air strikes, and tank and helicopter attacks on known terrorists’ locations and the rocket launching pads of Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad who share a joint base of operation. Hamas is targeting civilian homes as well as hospitals. An Israeli teenager was seriously injured while attempting to reach safe shelter in Sderot and many civilians are being treated for shock and injuries. Rockets even landed on the beach in Ashkelon. Thank God the injuries and casualties were minimal compared to the number of rockets thrown at Israel in an attempt to deliver widespread destruction.

Even so, hundreds of thousands of Israelis are being forced to run for safe shelter each day and night with only a few seconds warning. The bombs are falling at an average of every three minutes. Imagine having to help young children, babies and the elderly out of bed in the middle of the night hitting the floor running in order to reach a shelter in time to avoid injury or death. Even patients in hospitals are being transported to underground bomb shelters. It's a nightmare which must be stopped.

Little information is known about this particular attack but looking at the weeks and months leading up to it, there are many clues. The Palestinians are frantic for money on the eve of Ramadan and furious that Israel and the United States (among a few others) have put a stop to humanitarian payments and financial aid which the Palestinians wrongly used to finance their "Pay for Slay" program. Once this happened, Qatar stepped in and pledged to give the Palestinians 30 million dollars a month to distribute as they see fit. For a number of reasons which do not hinge on Israel, Qatari payments have been slow in arriving and with Ramadan soon to kick off, the Palestinians have their backs against the wall.

There is also speculation that Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad are taking their orders from Hezbollah in Lebanon and from Iran. Their stake in this is to disrupt Israel in advance of Israel's Independence Day celebrations and also ahead of the international Eurovision Song Contest which will take place in Tel Aviv later this month however delegations began arriving on May 2nd. If Iran, Hezbollah, Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad can cause disruption in this contest or perhaps a cancellation altogether, Israel's image will be tarnished and diminished. Hamas and the Palestinians are trying to force Israel to take military measures which they know will be condemned by the U.N. and others.

For more than a year, Palestinians have been gathering each Friday by the thousands along the Gaza border fence engaging in violent protests and taunting IDF soldiers. This past Friday an IDF officer's jeep was shot at from Gaza. No group claimed responsibility however the IDF said it appears to have been the work of Palestinian Islamic Jihad which they believe Hamas is using to carry out attacks against Israel to avoid having to take responsibility. All this is happening following the Israeli elections and at a time when Prime Minister Netanyahu is still forming his coalition government.

Before the world asks Israel to reach any sort of compromise or peace arrangement with the Palestinians, the Palestinians should first prove that they are capable of living in peace with Israel and acknowledge that Israel has a right to exist as a Jewish state with fully defensible borders. What would happen if Israel were to give up all her weapons? The answer is clear; she would be attacked and wiped off the face of the earth. However, if the Palestinians, the Iranians, Hezbollah and others were to lay down their weapons, what would happen? Again, the answer is clear.

There would be peace with Israel and peace in the Middle East. Every nation has a right to self-defense and, like it or not, this includes Israel - the rightful homeland of the Jewish people and America's only true friend and ally in the Middle East.

Celebrating Our Mothers

By CARL WHITE

Life in the Carolinas

I think it’s safe to say that most of us love our mothers. If you are a frequent reader of my somewhat organized words, it’s not difficult to know when I’m reminiscing about my sweet mother. The passing of time has mellowed the heartache of not having her on earth now. However, I miss her every day. I have also noticed that it is only her good that I remember so maybe she was a saint.

She always put others first and especially her family, that’s just the way she lived her life. It is not odd for me to meet someone who was inspired by her kind way of being. That’s just the way mom was.

The fortunate among us enjoy the love of a caring mother or the memories of that wonderful mom in our lives. The world is made better by caring mothers. I know we love our Dads, but this story is about the moms in our lives.

One would think that the honoring of our Mothers with an official day would be a logical conclusion. However, it was not quick or easy. More than 40 countries around the world honor mothers with a special day and in the United States the story about Mother’s Day is fascinating.

As with most things it all started with someone’s idea.

In 1905 Anna Jarvis led the effort to establish Mother’s Day as an official US holiday. She was inspired by her mother Anna Marie Reeves Jarvis who was a peace activist who among other things cared for soldiers on both sides of the American Civil War. Anna Marie also created Mother’s Day Work Clubs in the 1850s, to teach women proper child-care techniques and sanitation methods.

It’s interesting that the mother that inspired the holiday used the term Mother’s Day for the Work Clubs more than half a century before our American Mother’s Day become an official US Holiday.

Anna Marie died in 1905, and it was in that same year that her daughter Anna Jarvis started the process to get Mother’s Day officially on the books. In 1908 the US Congress would not entertain the idea with some saying if we have a Mother’s Day we will also have a need to have a Mother-in-law's Day.

However, on a local level, the first official Mother’s Day celebration took place in the southern state of West Virginia in 1908.

The celebration was in the form of a memorial for Anna Reeves Marie Jarvis by her daughter Anna Jarvis. It was held in Grafton, West Virginia at St. Andrews Methodist Episcopal Church, which is now known as the "mother church" of Mother's Day, and was incorporated as the International Mother's Day Shrine on May 15, 1962, as a tribute to all mothers.

With Anna’s continued efforts by 1911, all US states would recognize Mother’s Day as a State holiday, and in 1914 President Woodrow Wilson signed a proclamation designating Mother’s Day, held on the 2nd Sunday in May, as a national holiday to honor mothers.

It was certainly a great day of celebration for Anna. However, as time passed, she became frustrated with exploiting the holiday for profit. She felt that companies had lost sight of the sentiment and turned to greed.

The same lady who fought the battle to recognize our dear mothers now found herself in a great fight. Anna would now spend her time protesting various aspects of what had become the commerce side of Mother’s Day. She would be arrested in the mid-1920’s for disturbing the peace when protesting the selling of Mother’s Day carnations by the American War Mothers.

As we all know life takes all types of twists and turns and in the South many great things have are inspired, invented and shared with the world. The problem being we don’t always like it when people try to change it.

I am grateful for my mother and all the wonderful mothers who care about doing good. I don’t mind folks selling things that we can buy and give to our moms, however, if your mom is anything like mine was, the thing she wanted more than anything else, was a visit from her son.

A big thank you to Anna and her Mother who spent her life doing good for others.

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thethirteencreators-blog · 7 years ago

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Chapter 6.5

"The idiot still isn't answering his phone? Is he working late or something?"

This would be such a simple answer and I wish I could just smile and say, "Sure! That is exactly what's keeping him!" However, I know that this is a lie and I have never been good at lying. I twitch when I lie, my lips betray me and form the most devious grin, and my voice sweetens itself to the point of me sounding like a cartoon character from the sixties. "No, he isn't working late. I walked by the café. It's closed, everyone is gone," I explain to Lyric, slapping my hand onto my knee to keep my leg from shaking. My friend purses his lips, a sign that he was either really irritated or really confused. (Good chance of it being both.) The two of us were in his studio apartment, plopped down on his couch, staring blankly at the muted television in the middle of the room. I came to Lyric's place about five minutes ago and caught him in the middle of watching the movie adaptation Hairspray for the thirtieth time. He invited me in and offered me a pop, but I declined. Caffeine was not what I needed right now. I was already jittery enough. Lyric lifts up his arms in a thoughtful gesture. "Have you tried calling his coworker?" I throw him a pointed look. "Why would I have Jasmine's phone number?" It's ridiculous for him to even assume I would have it. "I don't know. She's cute." Is he joking? I can't tell if he's joking. "Not my type. Or yours, I thought." I throw him a questioning look. Lyric chuckles, taking a sip out of a cherry colored bottle of pop. "Hey, I'm pretty open minded." In all the time I've known Lyric, he has not once actually showed any interest in another human being. When I say this, I don't mean he doesn't have romantic feelings for anyone. I mean he literally finds people the most boring beings on the planet, which is why I believe he enjoys acting so much. Up on stage, he isn't surrounded by people anymore, he says, but actors. Actors are not just people in his eyes. What they are is something so much larger with so many different layers to them. Actors are the only people he can discover any intrigue in. "Anyways," I huff, changing the subject back to a more pressing matter than Lyric's so-called open mindedness, "if Jimmy calls or shows up or you see him somewhere for some reason, tell me please? That way I will know he didn't get stabbed thirty-seven times in the chest or hit by a bus." "Why is it always a bus with you? Why can't people be hit by cars anymore?" Lyric points out, getting up from his sitting position and following me towards the front door. I stand there for a second, trying very hard to let my worry go and laugh along with him. "Jimmy is too sly to get hit by a car. If he's gonna be crushed, it'll have to be something huge," I reason, rubbing my lips together. They are so dry. When I see Jimmy, I'm gonna kick his butt for taking my lip balm. My friend reaches around my body and unlocks the door for me. "Jimmy is probably fine," Lyric assures me, his hand on my shoulder. He gives me a tight squeeze, an odd show of affection from the man who hates physical contact. I have to pause when he does this and stare, which he returns with a small smile. Lyric's smiles are so rare. He knows how much I love them. "Don't get all paranoid, man. Knowing that loser, he's probably in the drama room having dinner with his mama." "Why does having dinner with his mom make him a loser? His mom is really cool," I point out. I've never understood why kids are so anti-parent. Yes, my parents weren't perfect and spent eighty percent of their time nagging at me, but I never felt a need to shove them away. I was never ashamed of them, even if they might have been ashamed of me. During the period of time after I came out as pan to them and the day I announced I wanted to go to Broadway, they seemed a little iffy on how they felt about me. We cleared it up, though, and they went back to loving me unconditionally after the initial shock wore off. A group of blonde girls stroll by in matching purple dresses, trilling about some band they were going to see live. One of them, apparently, won free tickets off the radio and another splurged to get them a limo. Kudos for them. "His moms are pretty chill," Lyric agrees, setting his hip against the doorframe. "I'll see you tomorrow for rehearsal before class, Alto. If I receive any contact from the alien life force we know as Jimmy John, I'll let you know." "You are so weird," I laugh, listening to the sound of the door clicking shut behind me.

------*

The dorm is in an oddly tranquil state when I return home sometime around midnight. Even though Lyric instructed that I don't let paranoia overcome me, I couldn't help but wander the school grounds for a few hours. I even walked all the way to Jimmy's favorite restaurant about a mile away from the school. Sometimes he goes there in the middle of the night to get some cheap noodles. That actually has become his routine during finals. Patricia, the owner, loves him for all the business he brings her. I even went as far as to actually call his mother when all else failed. She told me that she saw him at around three and hadn't heard from him since. To avoid freaking her out, I assured her he was probably just practicing somewhere secluded, wanting privacy. There's no sign of Jimmy anywhere. No call, no text, no email... Absolutely nothing. Something happened, I know it. I can feel it in my stomach every single time I think about him; this overwhelming, aching dread repeatedly splashes over me like a bucket of blood. Wherever Jimmy is, he isn't safe. I'm almost up the first flight of stairs when I consider calling the police. This might be nothing, but I refuse to take a chance. If Jimmy really is in trouble and I did nothing to help him, I will never be able to forgive myself. "Hey, Alto!" I hear someone call. I look up and find the sweet smile of Edda waiting for me. She is worn down and borderline weak looking, but still manages to be the brightest star in the room. "You were out late." I wave her off. "Hi, Edda. I was out looking for Jimmy," I explain, playing it off as if this were nothing. There is no reason to worry anybody else. "What were you doing? Partying?" "Yikes, me?" she chuckles, slapping her hand to her chest. Edda has lived down the hall from Jimmy and I since she started here last year. The two of us have a minor friendship made up of mostly childish banter and musical references. Also, she is one of the only people who does not look ready to barf when I make a terribly wonderful pun. (For example, H-2-Oh No! When I used this on my neighbor, Madison, she looked ready to slam my head in her door. Would I have blamed her? Probably not.) It's nice having a friend who doesn't treat me like the freak I know I am. I appreciate her more than I appreciate Jimmy sometimes and that is saying mounds about our simple contact. Edda pauses on the stairs before me and gestures to the tag on her shirt. "My staff kind of bailed last minute at the paper, so I'm pretty much on my own. I just needed to run back here and pick up some photographs I forgot for the front page." Ever since the beginning of the year, Edda has been the head of our school's newspaper. She is the one who compiles it all together, writes editorials, finds leads for her team of three (counting the resident cartoonist, Kam) to follow, prints everything out, and sets up the newspaper stand in the main hall. "That sucks," I say. "It keeps me busy," Edda shrugs, adjusting a strap over her arm. "Well, I best get going. Nice seeing you, Alto." "You too," I nod, watching her descend the stairs and exit through the side door. Just as I reach into my pocket, I feel my phone start to buzz. Finally, Jimmy has messaged! I pull out my device and see his name printed across the screen. Thank god, Jimmy! I hit answer and let out a breathe of relief. "Jim-Jam, you scared me to death! Where have you..." "Heads up!" the phone cackles and I'm propelled forwards. The stairs thud beneath me with each roll until I'm at the bottom, my body trembling with pain. I lift my hands and cradle my head, attempting to recollect myself. My phone lies beside me in about three different parts. For that to have happened, the fall must have been pretty intense. "Why?" I choke out, lifting my head. The attacker is nowhere to be seen. "W-where'd you go?" I try to get up but my body refuses. Every one of my limbs feels ten times its size. I can't even move my left leg. Did I break it? Could I have broken it after only falling down half a flight of stairs? A horrible thought strikes me quite suddenly and I feel bile in my throat. What if I was right and Jimmy was hurt? Maybe the same person who did this to him is doing this to me. My shoulder stings. There's something pricking it. Before I can look, what I assume is a bag is thrown over my head. I'm engulfed in darkness for a few seconds. I don't fight it. I lay there and wait for it take me away.

#thirteen #thethirteen #thriller #story

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