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calumcest · 4 years ago

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i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter two

[ao3]

here we are...look at me posting on a regular schedule who ever said i was chaotic!

@tirednotflirting i will not stop thanking you on every single chapter get ready to get incredibly bored of hearing me thank you and say how nice it is to have you on the doc because i’m saying it twice for every chapter once here and once on ao3 which actually has just reminded me to put the ao3 link on this chapter see it’s actually super useful. ao3 link inserted i love you i adore you and i cannot thank you enough for the amount of bullshit you put up with from me both generally and regarding this fic especially

me posting this fic is just please enjoy my downwards spiral (and listen to britpop)

Predictably, Noel doesn’t piss himself. He also doesn’t aim a punch at Calum when he finds out about the bet, though, which is his way of saying hope you’re alright. Instead, he just cuffs Liam upside the head, calls all of them pricks, and announces he’s going to bed. Liam rolls his eyes and calls him a boring cunt, which earns him another clip around the ear, but not two minutes after Noel and Bonehead have filed out of the room, Liam’s yawning and saying that he might turn in too. Calum, not wanting to be left in the living room on his own during a comedown, follows him out, listening to Liam mutter something about Tony and firing him because he’s almost as much of a boring cunt as Noel all the way up to their room.

Liam crashes almost as soon as they get in, passing out fully-clothed on his bed, and, as Calum’s trying to carefully pick his way through the debris littering the floor from his bed to the ensuite to brush his teeth, he trips over something that makes him stub his toe against the wardrobe and swear under his breath. He winces, gripping his toe as he looks for the offending object on the floor to give it an angry kick, and finds-

The magazine.

The magazine. The one he’d nicked from the dental surgery, the one Liam had nearly got in a fight over, all because of one tiny, glossy picture of Michael Clifford. He hasn’t looked at it since that day, too sober and too busy being yelled at every single minute of the day by Noel for playing too rough, or playing too clean, or playing at all. He hasn’t wanted to, either, hasn’t wanted to be confronted with the evidence that Michael’s carried on living without him, that he’s not that same seventeen year old boy that Calum had left behind in Sydney Airport half a decade ago.

That’s not to say he’s forgotten about it, though. Far from it - even in his pretty-much-permanently inebriated state, the little picture of Michael, stubble and all, has been playing around in the background of most of his thoughts. It’s easier to ignore when he’s with the others, when Noel’s snapping at him or screaming at Liam, when Bonehead’s rolling his eyes and passing him another joint, when Tony’s muttering about how Noel expects far too much of him, when Mark’s chivvying all of them to get up and get in the fucking studio, don’t they know they’re paying two thousand quid a day for this shit? It’s easier to focus on snapping at Noel, on stepping back from the brothers and leaving them to it, on taking a long toke from the joint, on ignoring Tony while whole-heartedly agreeing with him, on rolling his eyes as he shuffles into the live room and picks up his bass. He doesn’t have to think too hard, then, doesn’t have to let his thoughts stray from the here and now back to being seventeen and sun-kissed and in love.

Now, though, on his own, teetering on the brink of a comedown but still pleasantly drunk, Liam passed out and snoring gently on the bed a few feet away, Calum’s got nothing tying him down. There’s nothing for him to ground himself in, no stern, suspiciously-Noel-sounding voice in his mind telling him to stay fucking focused, or he’ll get a clip round the ear.

So, before he’s even really thought about it, Calum leans down and picks the magazine up, flipping straight to the page with the little picture of Michael on.

Even though he’s prepared this time, even though he knows he’s going to see Michael, older and broader and taller, his stomach still starts its best impersonation of a fucking Olympics tryout when his eyes find Michael at the bottom of the page. Christ. It’s like looking at someone Calum had seen every day for years at a train station, or maybe in a dream; he’s instantly recognisable but doesn’t quite match up to the mental image Calum’s got of him, lips a little plumper and eyes a little darker than Calum had expected. He looks like a mixture of someone so fucking familiar to Calum - the way he’s got his hands tucked in his pockets and his head tilted back a little - and someone Calum’s never met before, with the way his eyes are dark and almost hungry, the way his lashes are lowered slightly, the way he’s holding himself with such an air of confidence.

Calum sits down on the edge of his bed, disgusting taste in his mouth forgotten as he flips back to the first page of the article and starts to read. Mike, the singer calls him. Mike Clifford. It’s fucking ridiculous. Michael had always hated being called Mike, would always use his last vestiges of energy to lift his head from the toilet and protest weakly whenever Calum called him Mikey. The only time Calum had ever actually got away with calling him Mikey was when he was stroking his hair and Michael was crying into his chest, drunk and stoned and fucking miserable about Calum moving to the UK.

Mike’s our secret weapon, the singer (Damon, as Calum’s reminded) says, with an ‘air of confidence’, apparently. Calum briefly wonders what he means by that as his eyes flit to the next paragraph, mind lagging a few seconds behind. What kind of a war does he think they’re fighting?

Of course we’re a British band, Damon comments later on. We sing about British life, British experiences. Mike’s not penning songs about kangaroos and shrimps on barbies, is he? And anyway, he can outdrink the lot of us, which is what really matters. Are these really the best questions NME can come up with? Calum can’t help the way his lips twitch at that. That, at least, sounds like Michael.

It was serendipity, I think, Damon ‘muses’ a few paragraphs later, according to the journalist. We were looking for a second guitarist, and Mike had just moved over. He was living with Graham - he knew him through a friend from Sydney - and when Graham mentioned that he thought his band might need a second guitarist, Mike mentioned he could play.

It never came up in conversation before? the journalist asks, and Damon apparently ‘smiles wryly’.

That’s Mike for you, he allegedly says, with a shrug, and Calum feels a strange, hollow tug at his heart. Yeah. That is Michael. Anyway, he came along to a practice session and gelled perfectly with the rest of us. In fact, he brought some new ideas, a breath of fresh air that I think we needed. You know, the rest of us are four lads from the south who all grew up in similar circumstances and listened to similar music. I think we needed the different perspective.

That’s all Damon says about Michael. It leaves a sort of sour taste in Calum’s mouth - although, in fairness, that might just be the aftertaste of vomit - because this ‘Mike’ doesn’t sound like Michael, doesn’t feel like Calum’s- well. Whatever Michael ever was to him.

They’d never actually spoken about it. There had never been a conversation, an are you my boyfriend now, then, or what? They’d just both known - I’m yours, and you’re mine, and that’s all that matters. It had made it easier, Calum thinks, for him to justify it to himself when he got caught up in his new life, when Liam’s bright blue eyes started swimming in front of Michael’s sea-green ones, when harsh cackles were dubbed over soft laughter, when loud and brash northern accents started taking up more of his thoughts than gentle Australian twangs. We weren’t actually together, he’d told himself, every time he saw a letter in the post and his stomach twisted with guilt. You don’t owe him anything.

In fairness, it hadn’t just been him. Michael’s letters had stopped coming once a week, started coming once a fortnight, and then once a month. But it was Calum’s responses that got ever shorter, from pages and pages to a few half-hearted sentences, because Liam would often barge in halfway through and demand he comes down to the Boardwalk with him right fucking now, and it got harder and harder to justify to himself why he was giving up spending time with one of his best mates to write letters to a boy whose middle name he’d already started to forget. And it was Calum who had seen one last letter from Michael, tossed it on his desk to read later, and then forgotten about it until it was too late and his mum had already thrown it out. He’d barely cared, at the time, because Liam had crashed into his room, Calum’s mum tutting loudly at him from downstairs, and announced that he’d joined a band and they were the best band in the fucking world, and Calum should fucking join, and when Noel got back from tour he’d definitely join too, and they’d be the fucking second coming of the Beatles.

The guy staring at him from the picture, older and more confident, doesn’t seem like the same guy who’d sent Calum all those letters, telling him I miss you. I’m saving up to fly over to the UK. We’ll be together again, in a year or two. Don’t forget about me. It feels like there are two of him - Calum’s version, Michael, the boy who’d blink at Calum through dark, inky lashes and press soft kisses along his jawline, and this Blur version, Mike, the guy who stares back at Calum almost defiantly, like he’s daring him to keep looking.

Calum’s not sure whether it’s the drink or the drugs or whether it really is Michael, five years older and having grown into himself and built up a life without Calum, that’s making his stomach twist and turn and his heart sink like this. Or maybe it’s the guilt, all the love and regrets that Calum’s pushed down over the years and paved over with bricks of Liam and Noel and music, that’s stopping him from being able to tear his gaze away from the little Michael on the page, looking like he knows Calum’s eyes are glued to him.

Calum shifts, and in the near-silence of the room he hears something crinkle in his back pocket, and he frowns, lifting his hips up and fishing a messily-folded piece of paper out. He unfolds it, wondering whether he’s left a receipt or something in there, and finds two scrawled lines of text.

Noel’s lyrics.

It was serendipity, I think, the singer had said in the article, and Calum finds himself thinking the same thing as he stares down at the mostly-empty sheet of paper. Maybe this is supposed to mean something, he thinks. Probably just that his jeans are in desperate need of a wash.

There’s a guitar propped up next to Liam’s bed, one he’s been messing around on in what he says is boredom but Calum knows is an attempt to write something that Noel will throw a kind word or two at, and Calum’s grabbing it and setting it on his lap before he’s even really thought about it. He’s not a songwriter, never has been - he’s always wondered how the fuck Noel can retreat into a back room and come out half an hour later with a song like Supersonic - but right now, lyrics on one thigh, picture of Michael on the other, the words and the notes feel like they’re bursting to get out of his mind and down on paper.

Not for the first time, Calum’s glad Liam’s a deep sleeper, so he doesn’t have to lock himself in the too-big, too-empty living room to write. There’s something comforting about Liam’s presence, something that reminds Calum that he’s not alone, his deep breathing the thin line that ties Calum’s old life to his new life. Calum breathes along with him for a moment, a little drunkenly, like he’s trying to let as much of Liam as possible seep into his veins, maybe hoping he can absorb Liam’s don’t-give-a-fuck attitude and brash courage enough to get the words out without buckling under their weight.

There’s a pen on his bedside table, and he reaches over for it, uncaps it, holds it in his teeth, and starts to strum, humming along to the melody he’s had in his head since reading Noel’s lyrics. It only takes him a few minutes to find the right chord sequence, shifting into a key he knows Liam’ll be able to sing, because Calum knows he won’t be able to sing this himself. It needs a layer of removal, something that Calum can place between himself and the song and look at without having to look any further.

There we were now here we are All this confusion nothing’s the same to me There we were now here we are All this confusion nothing’s the same to me

I can’t tell you the way I feel Because the way I feel is oh so new to me I can’t sell you the way I feel Because the way I feel is oh so new to me What I heard is not what I hear I can see the signs but they’re not very clear What I heard is not what I hear I can see the signs but they’re not very clear

So I can’t tell you the way I feel Because the way I feel is oh so new to me I can’t sell you the way I feel Because the way I feel is oh so new to me

This is confusion, am I confusing you? This is confusion, am I confusing you? This is confusion, we don’t want to feel you This is confusion, we don’t want to feel you

The words almost seem to write themselves, ink on the page before Calum’s inebriated mind has even had time to think. Noel’s words slot in flawlessly as a chorus, the perfect contrast to Calum’s muddled, drunken musings, and it only takes about twenty minutes before the whole song’s done, every chord written, every word penned. And, to Calum’s surprise, it sounds really fucking good.

He sits back, fingers stilling on the strings, and stares down at the sheet of paper. The words look hasty, rushed, a little crooked, and Noel’s going to have questions about the shakiness of the letters, but that’s a problem for a later Calum.

He reads over it again while he’s still drunk enough to allow himself to, knowing he’ll hate it in the morning, and then puts the pen down to the paper again to write a title.

Confusion. No, that doesn’t sound right. It’s too vague, too impersonal. New to me. No, that’s a cop-out. Then and Now. No, that won’t be obvious enough.

And that’s it, Calum thinks, swallowing thickly. He wants it to be obvious. He wants Michael, and only Michael, to know that it’s about him, for him.

(“How will you know it’s me?” Calum remembers asking urgently one night, standing in the hallway on the phone to Michael, who had just called to mutter that he’s grounded, not allowed out, Calum needs to sneak in and make sure he makes it obvious that it’s him and not Luke or Ashton or else Michael won’t open his window. Apparently Luke, the sly little bastard, has taken to telling Michael it's Calum so Michael opens up for him.

“Say it’s- um-” Michael’s breaking up, and Calum clutches the phone closer to his ear like it’s going to make him any more audible.

“Say what?”

“Column-”

“Say it’s Column?” Calum’s incensed. “Michael, d’you fucking know how to pronounce my name?”

“Fucking- Columbia,” he makes out, and then the line goes dead.)

Calum only hesitates for a split second, enough for the tiny scrap of him that’s still sober tell him this is a terrible idea, and then the alcohol in his blood barges in, shouldering the remnant of his rational side out of the way and telling him do it, what the fuck have you got to lose? It’s a fucking great idea.

Yeah, Calum thinks wildly, as his pen touches the paper again. Fuck it. Michael probably won’t hear it, anyway.

Columbia.

-------

Calum plans to keep the song to himself, to sit on it and tell himself he’s agonising over whether or not to show Noel when he knows full well he’s got absolutely no intention of doing so, but, as though he can read Calum’s fucking mind, Noel corners him at lunchtime the next day.

“So,” he says, blocking Calum’s path out of the kitchen as Liam trails after Tony in the direction of the live room, complaining loudly that if he has to eat one more fucking ham and cheese sandwich he’s going to burn the fucking kitchen down. “That song. What’d you do to it?”

“What song?” Calum says, momentarily stumped. They’ve just been recording Slide Away, and Calum’s pretty sure he hasn’t fucked anything up so far. In fact, he’s absolutely fucking certain he hasn’t, because if Noel’s stopping them mid-recording to shout at Tony to tighten his floor tom then he’d definitely have thrown a fit over Calum playing a wrong note, or a fraction of a second too fast, or whatever.

“You know,” Noel says. “The one. From the other night.” He’s acting a little sketchy about it, a little guarded, and that’s what makes it click - oh. That song. The one Noel had been writing on his own in the kitchen at fucking five in the morning, and Calum had finished off at about three last night, drunk out of his mind.

“Oh,” Calum says, and he feels his expression shift into something just as evasive as Noel’s. “Uh. Yeah. I wrote something.”

“Well, let’s fucking hear it, then,” Noel says. Calum hesitates.

“Not in front of everyone else,” he says, because he knows the guitars are all in the live room, and by the time it’s cleared out Noel might have forgotten about the song altogether. Noel raises an eyebrow, but nods.

“My room,” he says.

“Now?” Calum says, looking down at his sandwich. “Can’t I fucking eat?”

“Now,” Noel confirms. “We’re on a tight fucking schedule, Cal.”

“Didn’t stop you spending half of Tuesday fucking off your head,” Calum shoots back. Noel just flips him off, like that’s a fucking answer, and walks out of the kitchen, presumably to fetch a guitar. Calum sighs, stomach sinking, because he hasn’t looked at the lyrics since he wrote them but he has a slightly hazy memory of knowing he’d hate them sober. He’s far too fucking hungover to stomach the fight that’s going to ensue if he refuses to play it to Noel, though, so he just sighs again, deep and resigned, shoves half the sandwich in his mouth and heads up to his room to pick up the sheet of paper with the lyrics and chords on.

Noel’s already in his room when Calum pushes the door open a little too roughly, perched on the edge of his bed, and he holds out his second-favourite acoustic guitar by the neck for Calum to take. Calum does, yanks it out of his hands to tell him I don’t fucking like that you’re making me do this without having to say it - not that Noel will care either way - and sits down on Bonehead’s bed, pulling the guitar into his lap and smoothing the sheet of paper in front of him so he won’t have to look at Noel.

“Right,” he says, and he can hear the nervousness in his own voice. “Don’t fucking laugh.”

“Won’t if it’s not worth laughing at,” Noel promises, which is as good as Calum’s going to get from him. He swallows, positions his fingers, and starts to play.

It sounds horrible, he thinks, as he’s playing. He has to try not to wince, because his voice cracks on the words as they drip with the kind of raw honesty that only a song written about his sort-of ex at three in the fucking morning, drunk and halfway between a high and a comedown, can summon. It’s too much for him, hearing his own voice sing the words that he doesn’t want to admit that he means, overwhelms him with the way it makes his heart clench in his chest to hear himself say nothing’s the same to me, and he has to stop before he can reach the end, stilling the strings and shrugging at Noel a little tensely.

“You get the gist,” he says. Noel blinks at him. He’s not laughing.

“That’s going on the album,” he says. Calum stares at him.

“You’re taking the piss,” he says flatly.

“D’you think I’d fucking take the piss about kicking one of my songs off the album to make room for yours? ” Noel says, and, yeah, that’s a good point.

“Well, I’m not singing it,” Calum says, before Noel gets any ideas. He’s not putting that out there, him singing a fucking half-love song for Michael. He'd have to be on every drug in the world to even get all the way through it.

“Why not?” Noel says.

“Can’t.”

“You fucking can. Just did.”

“I’m not fucking singing it, Noel.” Noel purses his lips, looking like he’s weighing up starting a fight with both Calum, who’s very clearly chosen this hill to die on, and Liam, who can’t stand feeling like a spare part, versus relenting and getting something he might not like as much musically but won’t potentially end in a trip to the hospital.

“It won’t sound as good,” he says, sounding annoyed, but that’s a concession from him.

“I’m arsed,” Calum says. Noel looks at him for a moment, hard, eyes flitting across every crevice of Calum’s face like he’s trying to find the weak link, and then he leans back with a sigh.

“You sound dead fucking British,” is all he says, a little too calmly for the conversation they've just had, and Calum feels like there’s something more to it that he should be able to pick out but can’t quite discern from the careful guardedness that fronts it.

“Been here five years, haven’t I?” he shoots back, feeling like he’s on the back foot, somehow.

“Wouldn’t even know you were Australian if you weren’t such a lightweight,” Noel says, and Calum rolls his eyes.

“Fuck off,” he says. “I could outdrink all five-two of you any day, Irish blood and all.” Noel flips him off, but his eyes still look far too calculating for Calum’s liking.

“You know Blur have an Australian guitarist?” he says, and Calum can see from the shrewd look in Noel’s eyes that that’s it, that’s what he’s been leading up to, and Calum’s stomach bottoms out.

“Oh?” he says, trying to straddle the line between interested enough and uninterested enough. There’s no way Noel can know, he tells himself, as his heart rate picks up. Calum’s never mentioned any of his mates back home to Noel before, let alone mentioned Michael. And even if he did, there’s no reason to make that assumption. Noel doesn’t even know Calum dates guys, and only knows he fucks them because of one night three years ago that neither of them speak about.

“Mm,” Noel hums. “He’s from Sydney.” He doesn’t say anything else, states it like it’s just an interesting tidbit of information, but the implication is clear. Maybe you know him. A challenge, or maybe a test.

“So’s a quarter of Australia,” Calum says, pleased with how cool and collected he sounds. Noel cocks his head.

“Weird, though, isn’t it?” he says. “What’re the odds?”

“Since when are you all fucking superstitious?” Calum asks. Noel shrugs.

“Just think it’s a strange coincidence,” he says lightly. “Two British bands with Australian members, fighting to be number one.”

“Who’s fighting to be number one?” Calum says. “We haven’t even released a single.”

“Yeah, but anything we release’ll be better than their shite,” Noel says derisively, eyes narrowing, and Calum exhales quietly, because it means the moment’s passed. “Girls who like boys who do boys, or whatever. Fucking shite.” Calum rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, like ‘I’m feeling supersonic, give me gin and tonic’ is any better,” he says, and Noel scowls and kicks at Calum’s shin.

“Just you fucking wait,” Noel says, and it sounds like a fucking threat, like Calum’s going to be held personally responsible if Supersonic doesn’t go to number one. Which, knowing Noel, is a distinct possibility.

“I’ll fucking wait,” Calum tells him, setting the guitar aside.

“Eeyar, what d’you think you’re doing with that?” Noel says, nodding at the guitar. “If you don’t want to sing it, you’ll have to play it to our kid.” The thought makes Calum’s stomach clench. He never wants to sing the fucking song ever again. In fact, he wishes he'd never sung it to Noel in the first place, wishes he'd just dealt with the taunts and jeers that would have come from Noel if he'd thought Calum hadn't been able to get a song down. It'd still be more bearable than having to listen to his own drunken, honest thoughts spilling from his sober lips.

“You really want to put it on the fucking album?” he says, and he can’t help the note of doubt that creeps into his tone. It's a good song, yeah - really fucking good, actually - but is it as good as Noel's?

“It’s good,” Noel says, which, from Noel, might as well be a declaration that it belonged on the White Album.

“Not as good as yours,” Calum says. Noel fixes him with a stare, a really, don’t you fucking dare make me say it’s better than one of mine kind of stare, and Calum sighs. It is a good song - it’s definitely better than Cloudburst, might even be better than Sad Song - but he’s not sure he can go through playing it to Liam, Bonehead and Tony. Playing it to Noel was fucking bad enough.

“Play it to our kid,” Noel says again, like he can read the exact thoughts behind Calum’s stricken expression. “I’ll sort out parts for Tony and Bonehead.”

Calum loves him.

-------

(Liam frowns at him when he trails off halfway through the bridge.

“That’s fucking mega, that is,” he says, but his tone doesn’t match his words.

“Cheers,” Calum says, and swallows thickly. Liam doesn’t say anything else, even though Calum can tell from the way his fingers are twitching that he wants to, just hesitates and then sighs and pulls Calum into a tight hug.)

-------

They finish recording the album in mid-March. It’s their second attempt, and it still sounds wrong, so their record label, in one last-ditch attempt to save it, send it off to Owen Morris for mixing.

Noel’s progressed beyond irate and lashing out at any and all of them for fucking up his precious album to complete despondence, retreating into himself, sitting staring silently out of the car window as they get driven back up to Manchester, not even rising to the bait when Bonehead threatens to steal his Sergeant Pepper vinyl. In the strange, symbiotic way that the brothers have - or maybe just because they’d shared a room for sixteen years and Liam had been at the receiving end of enough of Noel’s tantrums to know how to cope with them - Liam seems to know exactly what Noel needs. He sits close to him, throws an arm around him, pulls him in so Noel’s head is resting on Liam’s shoulder, but doesn’t say anything, carries on normal conversation with the rest of them with a slight edge to his tone, like he’s challenging any of them to fucking comment on the state Noel’s in. They all know better than that, of course. Anyone who’s spent more than thirty seconds in either of the Gallaghers’ presence would know better than that.

When they get back to Manchester, predictably dull and drizzling slightly, they all head off in their separate directions; Liam and Noel to Noel’s flat, Bonehead to the flat he shares with his girlfriend, Tony back to his parents’ house. Calum, too, heads back to the boring little two-up two-down he’s spent the past five years in.

“You look a state,” is how his mum greets him when he drags his bags out of the car and up the garden path. She holds her arms out for a hug and Calum hesitates for a moment - he knows he reeks of last night’s alcohol with maybe a pinch of stale weed added to the mix - but she gives him a stern look and he relents, wrapping his arms around her and inhaling the familiar scent of home-cooking and books.

“You smell terrible,” she says disapprovingly, when he pulls away. Calum shrugs.

“I’ll shower when I get in,” he says.

“You’ll fix the wall first,” she says, and Calum sighs. Not the fucking wall.

“Not the fucking wall,” he mutters, and his mum tuts at him, but steps aside to let him into the house.

“Your dad’s outside already,” she says, as Calum drops his bags next to the stairs.

“He’s not tried to do anything to the wall, has he?” Calum says, because if his dad’s had anything to do with it, Calum’s going to have his work cut out for him.

“He said he was just going to take a look,” his mum says, and Calum swears under his breath and heads for the back door. His dad has never quite grasped that ‘just taking a look’ doesn’t require prodding and poking and, on one memorable occasion, a blowtorch.

As Calum had expected, his dad is frowning at a section of collapsed wall, a mortar board piled high with badly-mixed mortar in one hand and a brick trowel in the other.

“Fucking hell, dad,” Calum says, jogging up and snatching the mortar board out of his hands, making his dad whip around in surprise.

“Hello to you too,” he says mildly. “How was Cornwall?”

“Great,” Calum says, and takes a step back so his dad won’t smell the booze on him. “What the fuck are you doing to the wall?”

“I saved the bricks that fell out,” his dad, gesturing at a haphazard pile a few metres away. “I was going to use those to fix it.”

“Not with this, you weren’t,” Calum says, brandishing the mortar. “I’ll mix some more tomorrow. And you can’t be laying bricks in the rain.” His dad looks up at the sky.

“It’s just drizzle,” he says.

“It’s enough,” Calum says. His dad looks at him for a moment, wavering between son, if I say the wall needs fixing the wall needs fixing and you do actually know what you’re doing, before sighing and holding his hands up in defeat.

“Fine,” he says. “But your mum will have my balls if it’s not done first thing tomorrow.”

“She’ll have your balls if you do it in the rain and it falls apart again in three weeks, too,” Calum tells him.

“At least I’ll get three extra weeks with my balls, then,” his dad says as they make their way back inside, and Calum snorts.

“That was quick,” he hears his mum shout from the kitchen, a little reprovingly, as Calum sets the mortar board down on the table. He’ll deal with it later.

“It’s raining,” Calum shouts back.

“It’s what?” his mum calls, turning down the upbeat, almost disco song playing on the radio.

“It’s raining,” Calum repeats. “Can’t lay bricks in the rain.”

“It’s only drizzling.”

“D’you want to go and fucking do it, then?” Calum says, exasperated, and his mum pops her head out of the kitchen with a frown.

“Calum,” she reprimands, and he sighs. He needs to fucking shower, and then sleep for about seven years until his liver’s had a chance to process at least half of the shit he’s ingested over the past few weeks.

“Sorry,” he says, and he means it. “I’m going to go and shower.” His mum nods, and her head disappears again, and he hears the radio turn up again. The song’s finishing up, something about how it always should be someone you really love, and Calum finds himself nodding along as he heads for the stairs and picks up his bags. It’s catchy, he thinks, and not like anything he’s heard in a while. Maybe he should recommend it to Noel; he could do with nicking ideas off someone other than Paul McCartney once in a while.

“And that was Blur, with Girls and Boys,” the radio host announces as the song starts to fade out, and Calum’s fingers slip in the handle of the bag in his right hand, causing it to fall on his foot. He curses under his breath, trying to think about the pain rather than the way his heart’s skipped a beat.

“Calum?” his mum calls from the kitchen. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, mum, sorry,” he shouts back, wincing and flexing his foot, steadying himself on the banister with his now-free hand as he tries to listen to the radio over the pounding in his ears. Another song’s started now, though, and Calum shakes himself out of it, picking up the bag and heading up the stairs to have an excuse for his racing heart and heavy breathing.

It feels fucking weird, he thinks, dumping his bags on the floor of his room and throwing himself down on the bed, to have heard Michael without hearing him. He would have paid more attention to the song if he’d known he was listening to Michael’s fingers pick out those notes. He can still hear the riff in his mind, bouncing around as it tries to find its way out but enclosed in a bubble of Michael like a good portion of Calum’s thoughts have been for the past few weeks. It doesn’t feel quite right, though, Michael’s guitar playing on Calum’s radio in Manchester. It feels like Mike, not Michael, and the thought makes him feel a little queasy.

He rolls over, staring at the blank wall in front of him as he waits for his heart to slow down. Always should be someone you really love, the guy - what was it, Damon? - had sung. It feels like a fucking joke, now, leaves a bitter taste in Calum’s mouth that that line is the first he’s heard of Michael in five fucking years. It’s like the universe is just having its way with him and laughing about it.

(It was serendipity, I think, Damon had said in the article, but Calum tries not to let the idea cross his mind.)

-------

Supersonic is, in fact, as Liam and Noel crow at least five times a day, fucking mega.

The single comes out in early April, when they’re in Middlesbrough, or maybe Stoke, or maybe Leeds - somewhere northern, cold, wet, and miserable. It’s played on the radio a few times, and it makes something warm spread from Calum’s heart to his toes every time he can pick out his own bass, every time he hears Noel’s lazy solo, Liam’s gravelly drawl, Bonehead’s overdriven chords. Even Tony’s drumming makes him grin, giddy on the high that’s him, them, him and his three best mates (and Tony) coming together to create something that, fuck whatever the charts say, sounds fucking good. It’s raw and it’s rough around the edges and it’s melodic and it’s dirty, and it’s ‘fucking rock ‘n’ roll’ if Liam ever gets half a second to comment on it, but, more than all of that, it’s them and Calum loves it.

It doesn’t do amazingly, but none of them even care, because they know it’s good. Noel’s already busy arguing with Marcus at the record label about whether Shakermaker or Live Forever should be the next single, shouting at him on the phone whenever they get somewhere with a payphone. The tour’s going well, too; there’s not been a venue they haven’t sold out yet, and the crowd actually know all the songs, now, screaming out the words whenever Liam takes a break for a swig of beer.

They’re playing Glastonbury in June, which Noel seems to think is the fucking be all and end all of their entire career despite the fact that they’ve released one album. He’s taken it upon himself to ensure that every waking minute that they’re not playing shows or off their heads on whatever substances they’ve been able to put up their noses is spent with him telling them in minute detail exactly how he’s going to skin them alive if they miss one more beat or hit the wrong string one more time. Even Liam isn’t safe, despite his lack of a proper instrument, after missing one of the higher notes in Supersonic one night in Liverpool. Calum’s never believed in God, but he thinks the fact that he was rooming with Tony and the brothers were rooming with each other that night, screaming at each other out of Calum's earshot, might be evidence of divine intervention.

Further potential evidence for the existence of God comes in the form of an invitation to an awards show to be held in early June, which is the only thing that could possibly have appeased Noel. It doesn’t stop him shouting at Liam for fucking breathing, or whatever it happens to be that hour, but it placates him enough to keep the band together, which is what matters. He starts writing like crazy, and by late May already has six songs that he claims are good enough for their second album, and Calum’s floored when Noel rips the curtain to his bunk open one night and shoves an unfinished song at him with a look on his face that says if you fucking tell anyone about this, I’ll have your balls. I’ll fucking have them.

(“D’you think me growing up in Australia brings a different perspective to the band?” Calum had asked the previous day, thinking of the interview he’d read with Damon, and Noel had snorted, not even looking up from his guitar.

“Do I fuck,” he’d said. “I’m the fucking genius here. Why, ‘s someone been telling you you’re important? Do I need to remind you that you barely even play an instrument?” Calum rolls his eyes and flips him off, but it settles his stomach a little to know that Noel's not giving him the songs because of some abstract musical perspective, but because of his talent. And, maybe, because Noel might just be a little fond of him.)

The awards show isn’t anything huge, not NME or anyone that Liam thinks matters, but Noel tells them that it’s the principle, that the fact that they’re being nominated for awards is what counts, and that they’ll fucking well show up. Liam still looks like he’s going to argue about it, probably just because his instinct to do the opposite of whatever Noel tells him overrides even his survival instinct, but he grudgingly agrees to go when Calum reminds him about all the free alcohol that’s sure to be there.

The ceremony’s much bigger than Calum had expected, held in a theatre that’s had the stalls cleared out to make room for tables for artists and their teams to sit at. They’re shown to a table on the far right of the room, and Calum sees names like Elastica and Björk on the tables they pass on their way, which makes him think that this might actually be a bigger deal than they’d thought it was. Their table is tucked away in a corner, which Calum thinks probably isn’t a good sign, but can’t bring himself to care that much about when he sees the three bottles of champagne waiting for them.

They’re tipsy before the show’s even begun, barely even noticing the room filling behind them as they call for more champagne, grinning and yelling at each other across the table as they all think fuck me, we’re really doing this, then? Even Noel somehow manages to dislodge the stick from his arse and laugh along when Liam starts heckling every single act that wins an award. It’s just fucking fun, Calum thinks, watching Noel and Liam put their arms around each other and yell the lyrics to Creep as Radiohead win an award, changing out half of the words for increasingly creative variants of words for certain parts of the male anatomy. It’s just a good fucking time with his best mates.

Liam’s so caught up in the heckling, yelling rubbish! Fucking rubbish! before the winners have even been announced, and they’re all so caught up in laughing at him that they don’t even realise they’ve won an award until Marcus glares at them pointedly, and they realise that the reason they suddenly can’t see properly is because there’s a spotlight on them.

“Best live act!” Noel shouts, grinning, and Calum shoots up and out of his seat and is hugging Noel and Bonehead, jumping up and down, before he can even think about it. Best live act, fucking hell.

“Rubbish!” Liam’s yelling, sounding absolutely irate. “Fucking rubbi- oh, that’s us.” He stands up calmly, flashing Marcus a winning smile as he walks past on his way to the stage, and the rest of them follow in his wake.

“Best fucking live act,” Noel repeats, like he can’t quite believe it. Their first fucking award. "That's all me, that is."

“You wanker, you’re rubbish,” Liam tells him, as they jog up the stairs onto the stage. “You can’t even play the guitar.” Noel cuffs him upside the head, but he’s still grinning, and Liam grins back at him as they walk over to accept their awards, shake a lot of sweaty hands, and make their acceptance speech.

“Right, then, who’s first then?” Liam says, leaning into the microphone and pulling his sunglasses down to survey the crowd. “It’s gotta be you there with that weird haircut. How many haircuts you got there, four?” He leans back as the crowd laughs, looking deadpan, but Calum can see the way his lips twitch as he soaks up the laughter and smattering of applause. Calum shakes his head, grinning, and looks out at the sea of faces looking back at him, trying to really absorb the moment, anchor himself so he’ll remember it tomorrow despite the champagne. There are a few people he recognises, which feels fucking insane - that’s fucking Robbie Williams, over there, presumably sat with the rest of the blokes from Take That whose names he doesn’t know, and he thinks he can make out the singer of Radiohead in the corner, and there’s the frontwoman of Elastica, and next to her is that Damon guy from Blur, and-

Oh, fuck.

Noel’s moved on to speaking now, a little more seriously than Liam - which isn’t saying much given that he’s currently in the middle of thanking himself for being such a genius and writing such impeccable songs - but the words are washing over Calum as his eyes flit to Damon’s left, taking in the moody-looking dark-haired guy and the ginger guy, and then to his right, a dark-haired guy in glasses and-

And Michael.

Calum thinks his legs might fucking give out. Staring back at him, eyes wide and jaw clenched, is Michael. Michael Clifford. His Michael. Fucking hell.

In the bright lights, Calum can see the tension in Michael’s shoulders, the way he’s sort of hunched into himself, sort of sat up straight, like he’s ready for a fight. He can see the shock on Michael’s face, the underlying hurt and pain in the twist of his lips, the way his fist is clenched on the table. He looks nothing like Calum had ever envisioned when imagining them reuniting, no carefree laughter and bright, joyful eyes. Calum’s sure he doesn’t look much better, lips slightly parted in surprise, pure horror written all over his face, but he can’t bring himself to care when Michael’s right there, in front of him, five years older and five years prettier, making Calum’s heart skip and race like it’s singlehandedly trying to win the fucking World Acrobatics Championship of 1994.

Liam’s taken the mic back off Noel to add a quick thank you to the people who voted for them, and then Noel’s clapping him on the back as they walk offstage, but Calum’s rooted to the fucking spot, can’t take his eyes off Michael. Neither of them are blinking, and as the lights sweep from the audience to them Calum almost loses Michael in the darkness, just sees the slight gleaming of his eyes, still fixed on Calum.

“Fucking come on,” Noel nigh-on shouts in his ear, startling Calum out of it, and his feet unstick themselves as Noel puts his hand on the small of Calum’s back, guiding him off the stage. Calum tears his gaze away, looks down at his feet so he won’t trip down the stairs, and by the time he’s got to the bottom and is looking out into the sea of faces again, he’s lost Michael. He searches in vain all the way back to their table, trying to map out just how far to the right the Blur table is from the Oasis one based on where it had been in relation to the stage, but then Liam’s in front of him, waving an award in his face and grinning inanely, and Calum’s line of sight is blocked by Bonehead jumping on Liam’s back, and Noel’s shouting something at the three of them through a smile, and Calum’s being forced into his seat.

The rest of the ceremony passes in a haze. Liam carries on heckling every act that gets up on stage, waving his award around over his head like it’ll somehow further his point, and Noel almost cries laughing at the sight of him until Liam’s fingers slip and the trophy goes flying and hits Noel smack in the face. Even that isn’t enough to get more than the ghost of a smile out of Calum, whose stomach is still twisting, eyes still flitting across the crowd, breath still catching every time a new award is announced just in case Michael will have to walk past their table, traipse up the stairs to their right, look down at Calum from the stage. Blur don’t win anything, though, much to the brothers’ delight, and as soon as they realise it’s winding down Liam’s saying something about an afterparty and trying to get up and leave before the ceremony’s officially ended. Tony grabs his arm and pulls him back down, mutters something about taking photos that both Noel and Liam scoff at, but one look from their management is enough to keep the two of them in their seats, albeit with glowers and grumbles.

The hosts close the awards in the most long-winded way Calum’s ever seen, and then they’re being ushered into some back room to take photos along with all the other acts. Noel and Liam are drunker than Calum’s seen them in months, shouting and laughing and throwing their arms around each other and pressing kisses to anyone who dares walk within five metres of them, and, seeing how irritated the rest of the acts and the photographer are at their antics, they ramp it up, yelling and screaming and singing until everyone’s shooting them filthy looks and Calum’s almost managing a proper smile. His eyes have been roaming the room since they got in, looking past the miserable looking bloke from Radiohead because he thought he’d seen a flash of blonde that had turned out to be Robbie Williams’ terrible haircut, but either Blur have already been and gone or they’re still hanging around outside.

“Cal,” Liam shouts, and then Calum’s being pulled into a headlock - quite a fucking feat, actually, because it’s Noel doing the headlocking, and he’s a good half-foot shorter than Calum. “What d'you reckon, eh? Best band on the fucking planet!”

“Don’t think that was quite what they said,” Calum says, and Noel ruffles his hair before letting him go, just enough that Calum can stand up straight, and wrapping an arm around Calum’s waist. Calum leans into it, a little unsteady from the alcohol and Michael, relishing the comfort of a steady anchor to counter the way he feels so fucking unbalanced from seeing Michael in the flesh again after five years.

“You’ve got to read between the lines , Cal,” Liam says earnestly. “They might not’ve said it, but it’s what they meant.”

“Eeyar,” Noel says suddenly, grinning wickedly. “Is that who I think it is?” Liam twists, following Noel’s gaze, and Calum does the same, turning to the door and finding-

“‘S fucking Dermot All-bran!” Liam crows, cackling gleefully as Damon’s eyes flit to the three of them. He smiles, pretty and polite, and heads in their direction, and as he comes through the door with the woman from Elastica in tow, four more people file in behind him - ginger guy, moody guy, glasses guy, and, to the detriment of Calum’s heartbeat, Michael.

“Congratulations,” Damon calls, nodding at the award in Liam’s hand. He’s almost reached them, and the rest of his band are trailing behind him, and Calum’s heart is beating so fucking fast and loud that he can barely hear Liam screaming next to him over the pounding in his ears as he watches Michael get closer and closer, carefully avoiding Calum’s burning gaze.

“Fucking right,” Liam says proudly. “Fucking best band in the world, we are. Real rock ‘n’ roll stars. Not like you posh fucking wankers.” The guy in glasses behind Damon rolls his eyes, and something that looks like irritation flashes across Damon’s face, but Calum barely cares.

Michael’s still not looking at him, all of three feet away, and Calum’s skin is fucking crawling, itching with the desire to reach out and touch him, to force him to look at Calum, to slot their fingers and their legs and their lips together again, just to see if they still fit. Fuck, he shouldn’t have drunk all that champagne.

“Don’t think we’ve met,” the tall guy says, holding out a hand. “I’m Alex. This is Graham-” glasses guy, who nods tightly, “-and Dave-” ginger guy, who holds up a hand in an awkward wave, “-and you know Damon. And our resident Australian, Mike.”

“Looks like a cunt,” Liam remarks, and Calum vaguely registers Noel and Bonehead laughing next to him, loud and giddy and a little spiteful.

“Ours is better than yours, anyway,” Noel says, arm tightening around Calum, somewhere between defensive and proud. Damon raises an eyebrow, a definite challenge in his eyes now.

“Is that so?” he says, and in the two years since Calum last heard him speak he’s forgotten how different his speaking voice is to how he sings, eloquent and deep and rich. It’s a secondary thought, though, because Calum’s still staring at Michael, willing him to take his eyes off Damon and look at Calum for just one fucking second, but Michael’s face remains carefully blank, and the closest he gets to looking at Calum is sending Liam a scornful glance.

“Aye, ‘course it is, you prick,” Liam says, brash and careless, and Damon turns to Calum.

“Calum, isn’t it?” he says. Calum tears his gaze away from Michael for a moment, enough to see the way Damon’s holding himself, and that whatever Calum says next is going to form Damon’s entire opinion of him.

“Yeah,” Calum says, aiming for bold and confident to match Liam, because that’s where his loyalties lie now, and hopes no one else can hear how dry his throat is.

“Didn’t you have a mate in Sydney called Calum?” Damon says, almost idly, turning to Michael. “Was he the one that moved to the UK?” Calum watches the line of Michael’s throat as he swallows, and tries not to superimpose the bruises his lips had left there the night before he’d left Australia for the first and last time on top of it.

“Yeah,” he says, and Calum’s heart fucking splinters at the sound of his voice. Even in that one syllable, he can hear his Michael, the same tone and sound and depth, but there’s a new edge to it, something slower and more controlled than the wild seventeen-year-old Calum had left behind. The years without Calum have added a gloss to him, a new confidence in his voice and his expression and how he holds himself, and Calum just wants Michael to fucking look at him.

Fuck it, he thinks - or maybe the champagne thinks for him - and he swallows.

“Hey, Michael,” he says quietly, and all hell breaks loose.

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chapter three

#malum #5sos fic #5sos fanfic #5sos fanfiction #5sos slash #i actually have some TIME tonight to chat i will be back #thats a threat i will be returning #my laptop is like freaking out at the number of tabs i have open right now but what am i supposed to do close them?#absolutely not #theres also a huge insect in my room and i have to wait for it to leave the door or i'm trapped in my room #none of these tags are antyhing to do with the fic i'm sorry i'm just stream of consciousness in here #ignore me my brain is malfunctioning #i hope everyone is doing well i miss being active here i'm so fucking BUSY atm #but come friday i will be back for good #Back for good by take that is a banger #okay i'm seriously going to shut up now please read my breakdown

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ofstarsandvibranium · 6 years ago

Text

A Huggable, Kissable Bear

Fandom: Marvel (Cop AU - Sweet as Cinnamon Sugar Universe)

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky Barnes x Reader

As requested by anonymous: Sweet as Cinnamon Sugar date ideas. It’s a small town, so there’s always some kind of festival or fair. Bucky does like to win stuffed animals for the ladies! We used to have outdoor concerts with Motown singers. Mom would pack a picnic and there was a car show. Just some thoughts!

A/N: i swear this is so fucking sweet. yall will need to go to the dentist after this!

warning: implication of fear of heights and a panic attack due to said fear.

Bucky picked you up at your apartment at 6pm. The sun was starting to set and it was a fairly cool night. So you decided to wear jeans, a white tshirt, and a cardigan. Although the outfit was simple, Bucky still found you just as beautiful as when you’re in your diner uniform hair in disarray and there are coffee stains all over your apron.

“So, Sarge, what’s the plan tonight?” you asked as he helped you into his car and hopped into the driver’s seat.

“Well, today’s the Spring Festival. Figured I’d take you there?”

You nodded in agreement, “Great! I haven’t gone in years! I’d love to see if things have changed since then.”

“Great,” Bucky said with a sigh of relief. He didn’t know if taking you to the festival was a good idea. Steve recommended it, but Bucky didn’t know if you were a festival person.

“Great,” you said smiling back at him. As Bucky continued to stare at you, you giggled, “So...we goin’, Sarge, or are ya gonna just stare at me in your car all day?”

Bucky chuckled, “Well, the festival doesn’t have anythin’ on this view right now.”

You giggled again and gave him a playful nudge, “You smooth talker. But seriously, let’s go! You got me all excited now!”

“Alright, sugar, we’re goin’. Hold onto ya panties.” Bucky started the car and switched the gear into drive.

He was driving out of the apartment parking lot when you smirked and said, “You think about my panties often, Sarge?”

Bucky choked on his own spit. He could feel his face heating up instantly as he began to stumble on excuses, “Well, no, I just-you see it’s just-it’s an expression and-”

He stopped when you burst into laughter, “Oh God! Take a breather, Bucky! I’m just kidding with ya!”

His shoulders visibly deflated in relief, “Dear God, sugar, you just about put me into a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry, Sarge,” you leaned over and pecked his cheek, “It won’t happen again,” and you settled into your seat again. Bucky could feel his cheeks heating up again.

____________________________

You and Bucky walked hand in hand along the fairgrounds of the festival. The entire area was decorated with flowers and pastel colors. Very spring-like indeed.

Although very cool on the outside, Bucky was freaking out on the inside. He hasn’t been on a date since he was with Dot. He doesn’t remember how to be this cool, suave guy he used to be. You made him nervous in the best of ways. Your smile, your laugh, hell, your entire presence caused butterflies in his stomach.

“Hey,” you poked Bucky in the side pulling him away from his thoughts.

“Hm? Sorry, sugar. Got lost in my thoughts.”

You tilted your head to the side and gave him a small smile, “Care to share with the class?”

“Well, uh,” Bucky used his free hand to nervously rub the back of his neck, “I’m just..” he looked down and mumbled something incoherently.

You leaned in closer, “Huh?” you couldn’t quite hear due to the volume of the festival activities.

Bucky cleared his throat, “I’m...nervous.”

Your heart swelled, “Buck, it’s okay. I get it, but there’s nothin’ to be nervous about. It’s just me.”

He shook his head with an empty chuckle, “That’s exactly why I’m nervous. You’re-God, sugar, you’re perfect. You’re the sweetest girl I know and not to mention you’re so damn beautiful. I’m this older, divorced single father. I barely get to spend time with my daughter. I’ve gained a lot of weight so I’m not necessarily attracting positive atten-”

“Hey,” you cupped Bucky’s face, causing him to stop mid-sentence, “I told you, Bucky, it’s what’s on the inside that counts. And for the record, I think you’re an amazing man and father. Life dealt you a bunch of bad cards, but you’re making the best out of it. From what I’ve seen, Becca still adores you and holds no malice towards you. And you think you don’t grab any positive attention ‘cause of how you look? You clearly don’t hear Gladys or Irene talk about wanting to jump your bones.” the mention of the older women’s names made Bucky chuckle, which made you smile, “And your smile is so beautiful, Buck.

Bucky’s head hung low, “Geez. What a way to start our first date, huh, sugar? i told you, I’m a mess.”

You shook your head, “I don’t mind it, Sarge. Not one bit.” you slipped your hand into his again and tugged at, “So, you mentioned you’re a pretty sharp shooter. How ‘bout we test that? Think you can win me one of those giant bears?” you nod towards the game booth where you shoot moving targets. The ultimate prize being a giant bear.

Bucky’s shoulders lifted into a confident stance, “Oh, sugar, I’ll win you ten giant bears!” he then dragged you over to the booth, an excited and determined look on his face, making you giggle.

_____________________

Bucky didn’t win you ten bears. But he definitely won you two. They were both a lot bigger than the both of you combined. You decided to keep one and let Bucky take the other home for Becca. You were sure she’d appreciate it.

“I’m gonna be real honest, sugar, the more time I spend with you, the more I wanna kiss ya and hold ya and never let go.”

“Be careful, Sarge. Do that and I’m never leaving your side.”

Bucky squeezed your hand, “Oh I bet on it.”

You both then moved towards the food area. You were completely overwhelmed over the different options of fried foods. Fried oreos, fried hamburgers, fried ice cream. There was even a vendor selling fried alligator!

Bucky nodded towards said booth, “Hey, wanna try alligator?”

You hesitated. The thought was a bit disgusting to you, but you were also curious, “I will if you do.”

“Deal.” he brought you over to an empty table. You both set the big bears on one side of the table and he spoke to the bears, “Alright, fellas, I’m leaving you in charge of this precious cargo here, got it? Nothin’ happens to her.” he looks at you and gives you a wink before he waltz over to the line to get some fried alligator.

You propped your arm on the table, cheek resting on your hand, dreamingly staring at Bucky. You couldn’t believe how lucky you felt to be on a date with not only a great guy, but the guy you’ve been crushing for the past two years since you’ve been working at the diner.

Bucky glanced your way and when he caught you staring at him, a big grin appeared on his face. There was that fluttering feeling in his stomach again.

“Y/N!” your dream-like state was interrupted when you heard your name called. You looked around until you saw Jamie running toward you.

You caught the six year old and pulled her onto your lap, “Well hey there, Miss Jamie!”

Peggy came rushing over to you, looking a bit frazzled, “Jamie Ann Rogers! What did I say about running off like that?”

Jamie shrunk into your arms as she mumbled out, “Sorry, mommy.”

Peggy sighed and bent down to kiss her daughter’s head, “It’s alright, sweetheart. Just don’t do it again, alright?” she then turned towards you and smiled, “Hello, Y/N, enjoying your date with James?”

You waved and nodded, “Hey, Peggy, and yes. He won me these two guys,” you gestured to the bears, “and now he’s getting me some fried alligator.”

“Alligator?! Eeeeww!” Jamie exclaimed making you and Peggy laugh.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try is, darling,” Peggy said.

“Where’s Steve?” you asked.

“Oh, he’ll be here in a bit. He’s coming off a shift.”

“Oh hey, Peg. Hey, Jamie.”

The six year old waved, “Hi Uncle Bucky! You got Y/N alligator?”

Bucky nodded as he sat on the bench beside you, sliding over three different small paper trays, “I got alligator, kangaroo, and snake.”

You laughed in disbelief, “Excuse me?”

He shrugged, “I got curious!” Bucky held up a skewer to you, “Here. This is the alligator.”

You apprehensively lean forward, taking a reasonable bite of the fried meat, chewing it into your mouth. Bucky did the same, keeping eye contact with you as he chewed.

You slowly nodded, “Alright. It’s not bad.,” you said swallowing.

Bucky chuckled, “It literally tastes just like chicken.” He offered it to Jamie, who pulled away in disgust, “Ew! No, Uncle Bucky!” The three of you laughed at her disgust.

You then bit into the kangaroo and that didn’t taste bad either. You couldn’t really explain the taste. You wanted to say it reminded you of a combination of chicken and pork. Snake was the weirdest one out of the three.

“I don’t even know how to describe it! It’s so weird but so good!” Bucky continued you feed you as you continued to hold onto Jamie, who was now snacking on a hot dog, thanks to her mother.

When you and Bucky finished, Peggy grabbed her daughter, “Alright, sweetheart, we’re gonna let Y/N and Uncle Bucky continue their date. Say your good-byes.”

Jamie proceeded to lean forward kissing Bucky’s cheek and then yours, “Bye Uncle Bucky! Bye Y/N! Have fun on your date!”

You and Bucky grabbed the giant teddy bears and waved good-bye to little Jamie. Bucky then wrapped his arm around your shoulders and nodded towards the ferris wheel, “Wanna go on it?”

You looked at the caged compartments going around in what you thought was a big circular death trap, “Uuuuuhhhh-”

He chuckled, “C’mon. It’ll be fine. I’m a police officer. I’m supposed to make sure you’re safe. So you’ll definitely be okay with me in there.”

You sighed, “Fine, but if we die, I’ll make sure to make your afterlife a not-so living Hell!”

“Alright. Fair enough.” he practically pushed you towards the line to get into the ferris wheel. As you approached the front, little by little, Bucky felt yourself shaking, “Hey,” you looked at him with frightened eyes and his heart dropped, “Sugar, if you really don’t wanna go on this, we don’t have to. I didn’t mean to force ya-”

You shook your head, “No, Buck. I-I gotta do this. Face my fear, ya know?”

There were about five people ahead of you, “You sure?”

You took deep breath, “Yeah. Just keep holding onto me?”

“I promise I won’t let go.” Once you got into the compartment, you and Bucky set the two bears on the bench across from you. Then you and Bucky settled into the other one. His arm went protectively around you and his other hand held your hand. Bucky whispered reassuring words into your ear, “Sssshhh. It’s okay, sugar. Nothin’s gonna happen to ya. I got you, Y/N. You’re safe.”

You cuddled up into his chest, eyes tightly shut as the ride began to move, “Let me know when we’re at the top.”

“You sure?” you nodded and Bucky said, “Alright.”

Minutes go by and you feel the ride come to a halt. Bucky’s whisper startles you for a second, before you calm down at the sound of his voice, “We’re at the top, sweetheart.”

You took a deep breath and slowly and you leaned over the grate, peering down at the world below you, “Oooooh no.” you could feel your heart racing, hands becoming clammy, body begin to shake.

“Hey, hey, sugar, focus on me, okay?” Bucky cupped your face, getting you to look at him, “Look at me, okay? Can you tell me a story?”

You looked at him confused, “What?”

“Just trust me. Tell me a story. Can be about anything you want.”

“U-Uh. Okay. W-When I was first working at the diner, I-I,”

You whimpered and Bucky shook his head, “You can do it. I got you. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you. Keep going.”

You gulped, “I wanted to quit. Some people were rude to me ‘cause I was taking to long with their orders. I was just starting to work there and-and they just wouldn’t gimme a break.”

“Understandable. People are really mean when it comes to their food.”

“You were one of the first people to truly understand that I was just starting and told me to take as much time as I needed. I didn’t need to rush.”

“Well yeah. Not everyone gets the hang of things their first try.”

“You spoke so nicely to me and you thanked me, even if I took to long to refill your coffee. I gave you a cinnamon bun as a thanks and you gave a tip that I didn’t deserve.”

Bucky softly smiled as he recalled that was the first day you two met.

“I knew then that you were my favorite customer, even if I only just met you. Then you kept coming back-”

“The cinnamon buns are really good. I had to keep coming back for more,” Bucky said with a smirk and you chuckled.

“You’re lying and we both know it,” which made both of you giggle.

He leaned forward, forehead resting against yours, “Do you feel better now?”

You nodded and rested your hands on top of his, “Yeah. Thanks, Sarge.”

“You’re welcome, sugar,” Bucky mumbled. He stared into your beautiful Y/E/C eyes. They drew him in like a magnet. His eyes then glanced down to your lips before you closed the minimal distance between you. Your lips pressed against his in an unexpected kiss. For a moment, Bucky was frozen in surprise. You were kissing him??? You were kissing him!!!

He proceeded to kiss you back, which made you smile in relief. By God, your lips were so soft.

“YEEEAAAH! I SEE YOU TWO! YOU GET IT!” you hear a group of young teenage boys yelling at you and both of you pulled away to laugh.

The ferris wheel continued to move and, this time, you weren’t scared. No anymore.

_______________________

Bucky walked you back to your apartment after the comfortable silent ride home. Both of your hands intertwined and resting in your lap throughout the entire ride.

Bucky sighed as he leaned against the outside wall of your apartment, giant teddy bear in his arms. He then rested his head against the wall as he stared at you, “God, sugar, you don’t know how head over heels I am for ya.”

You stepped closer to him, “I think I’m starting to know,” you then leaned in pressing your lips against his once more. After that first kiss you two shared, you couldn’t stop kissing each other. It was an addiction, one that neither of you didn’t want to be treated.

Bucky groaned as he pulled away, “I gotta go. It’s late and I don’t wanna keep Wanda up waiting for me.”

You nodded, “It’s alright.” you took the bear from Bucky’s arms and he immediately stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“I had a great time tonight. The best in a while honestly,” he said with a shy smile.

“Me too.”

“So...are you willing to go on another date with me sometime?”

You nodded, “I’d love to. Just tell me when and I’ll be there.”

“Great.” he then leaned in and kissed your cheek, “Good night, sugar. Hope you have the sweetest dreams.”

“Thank you, Bucky. Good night.” you unlocked your door and stepped in, blowing him a kiss before closing it shut. You leaned against the door, completely breathless. This first date, besides your panic attack at the ferris wheel, was perfect. And you couldn’t wait to have more dates with Bucky.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #marvel #au #cop au #sweet as cinnamon sugar #chubby!bucky

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anastasiaskarsgard · 5 years ago

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So here’s AU single dad Mark, you can see the vibe his picture inspired here (who is inspired by a real person loosely)

Warning: cursing, mention of drugs and sex. Mention of violence.

“Doctor, you have one last appointment and then you’re free! New puppy needs vaccines and looks very healthy. The guy is seriously dreamy so just mentally prepare yourself for that.” My receptionist Ashley said as she handed me the file. “They’re in number 2.”

I glanced over the file and audibly groaned, drawing both receptionists attention. “I know Mark! Shit! I hope he didn’t recognize my name and come here on purpose. To be quite honest though, I don’t think he’ll even remember me.”

Ashley leaped from her chair to get close enough to whisper, “I need the deets Doc! Did you have a one night stand with him? Or lose your v card to him at prom? Or oh my gosh! did you choose your career over him and left him behind for vet school?”

“Stop reading smut on the internet, and come back to reality. He was 2 years older than me and talked to me one time at a party, informing me that I had potential if I would dress more like a girl, and less like a veterinarian. I doubt he’ll remember it tho.” I chuckled, shaking my head, “Get back to work.” I said as I walked over to room 2, taking a deep breath before opening the door, coming face to face with Mark. He was still drop dead gorgeous.

“My bad, I thought you’d come thru the other door. Dakota, Danielle. Please sit down nice for the Doctor, so your puppy doesn’t get nervous.”

Mark tried to wrangle his two small children to sit down, but at around 2-4 years old, that wasn’t gonna happen. I wondered what girl had snatched up Mark as I checked the puppy out.

“Oh my — kids earmuffs— “ Mark verified both children were in fact covering their ears before turning back to me with a big cheesy smile on his face. “No fucking way! You seriously became a veterinarian!” He exclaimed chuckling.

“Well you gave me the idea, so I just ran with it, “ I said with a smirk.

“Oh my God. You remember I said that? I was a punk, I’m sorry. I just had a thing for you and you’d always ignore me or blow me off, every time I tried to get your attention.”

“I don’t recall you ever trying to get my attention. I do recall you ignoring me.”

“No. I didn’t even have any classes in the portables and I’d go hang out over there and always say what’s up as you’d walk by. I went to all your basketball games and you never once acknowledged my existence and I tried to talk to you in the library a couple times and you would always shoosh me.”

“ well that’s what you’re supposed to do in a library. Also, going into the general vicinity of someone, and expecting them to know somehow that you’re there for them, isn’t very obvious, especially considering the one time you speak to them you tell her that she has potential but dresses like a veterinarian, which is pretty cool if you ask me.” I giggled. Oh sweet mother of God, I giggled. He was so hot, my brain was malfunctioning. Eventhough he was most likely full of shit and trying to get a discount or something, it was wild to think, I was so intimidated by him, I refused to entertain the idea that he might actually like me. It was pretty hilarious. “Looks like you found your happily ever after anyways. Who’s the lucky lady? Anyone I know?”

“Huh?” He looked confused for a few couple beats and then it dawned on him. “Oh yeah I got two awesome mini mes.”

“We’re the 3 musketeers!” A little voice squeaked out.

“Oh sorry. I just figured 2 kids that use ear muffs and the designer dog, someone had domesticated you.” I said looking up to see Mark blush.

“Remember Anna Winters? That’s his mommy and—“

“I don’t mean to interrupt Mark, but could I borrow your little musketeers to feed some newborn puppies that were dumped here? Then we can have a few minutes to catch up. I think you’re my last appointment. Do you mind? The girls and I do it, but they look like they’re good little helpers.”

Both children leaped out of their seats and started jumping up and down pleading to let them help so Mark agreed. I called Ashley in and she was super enthusiastic about having helpers, till she realized Mark wasn’t coming too. As soon as they closed the door, I turned to Mark.

“Thought it would be best if they didn’t hear adult conversations, especially involving their mother.”

“Mothers.”

“I kinda figured since your little girl looks possibly Latina?”

Mark nodded his head. “Yeah So Anna is a full fledged crackhead out in LA or something last I heard. Who knows? She might even be dead. She left him with me when he was a week old and never came back.”

“Wow! What a deplorable human being! But then you had naked time with a lady again, and she got pregnant too huh?” I teased. “Maybe no one told you how this works...”

“No I get it. Danielle’s mom was Dakota’s babysitter, and she just never really went away and it was convenient, and she cleaned and took care of Dakota. But she stopped taking birth control unbeknownst to me, and she winds up pregnant, wanting to get married.”

“So Wait! I know this part! You being the most romantic motherfucker on the planet, was like let’s go to Disneyland and get married in the castle right before the fireworks go off!” I had to give him some shit. He was such a cliche.

Mark laughed his same dorky weird laugh, and I couldn’t help but to laugh too. “No I told her I’m not marrying you. I don’t love you, and she’s like well then as soon as I have this kid, it’s all yours. If you don’t want me, I don’t want your ugly baby.”

“I’d be like ‘it got it from its mama’. She’s adorable though, so you really came out ahead there. What are the odds you’d get two deadbeat moms in a row?”

“Don’t remind me. What’s your story? You married? Kids?”

“Well I went to school and graduated top of my class, so i got into vet school, which is way harder than regular old medical school since there aren’t as many options. Plus it’s pretty challenging. With people you just got to figure out people. I have to know the dogs, cats, horses, goats, birds, lizards pretty much anything that’s alive and not from the primate family, i gotta figure it out. Last week somebody brought in a damn baby kangaroo, trying to tell me it’s a wallaby, and I was like where did you get a Kangaroo in Salt Lake City? Sorry, to answer your actual questions, No baby daddy’s cuz I’ve never met anyone that’s as awesome as I am, so until then I’m just saving the world, one litter at a time. Let’s go peek at them, come on.” I tiptoed out the door, over to the batch of kennels I had them living in, and we peeked around the wall, to see both kids feeding two puppies each, smiling from ear to ear.

“What kind of puppies are they?” Mark whispered.

“Go back in the room and I’ll tell you the story.”

He looked so adorable tiptoeing along, trying to be sneaky. He was like that one part of Fantasia where everybody knows but him that he’s too big to be sneaky.

We get back in the room and he sits on the little bench, patting the seat next to him, looking up at me all sexy like. He knows what he’s doing. “Come sit. I won’t bite.” He said with a lustful tone. Or maybe I just wanted to jump on him and any tone would be lustful......

“You keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna squirt you with the spray bottle,” I couldn’t help but laugh at my own joke. He found it less funny. “They’re all Blood Hounds. The mother got shot by the owners worthless boyfriend, claiming she attacked him, when I have a strong suspicion she was defending the woman from him. The mama dog did get ahold of the guy and shredded his arm up bad enough, it’ll never work again. The woman dropped the puppies off saying he’d kill them when he got home, so that’s how I got nine Bloodhound puppies that have to be fed every few hours. I didn’t have the heart to put them down, and the shelter would of killed them.”

“Aren’t Bloodhounds expensive?”

“Well yes. And they’re actually AKC, but I’m going to fix them all before I adopt them out. I rescue, I don’t profit off animal sales. Just maintenance. I actually offered them to the police since they’ve got the best noses in the business. They’re trying to get the money together to train them. Las Vegas wants two of them, but they got that casino money.”

“How much does it cost to train a dog?”

“Like $22k I think it is. Takes a few years depending if they’re looking for people, drugs, bombs... ”

“Wow. How are you not taken?” He blurted out.

“My bullshit tolerancy is almost non-existent, I work a lot, I’m the only one that thinks I’m funny, i dress like a veterinarian and I’m shallow. How are you single? All that man pretty and diaper changing skills.”

Mark looked down and blushed again. “Ok I’m just gonna go for it. Would you like to go to dinner sometime?” I swear he is holding his breath. Dammit. So cute.

“How about now? When they’re done feeding the puppies, you wanna go feed your rugrats?” I inquired.

“I meant like on a date, just you and me.”

He was so pretty, I wanted to sit on his face, “Oh ho! I cant be alone with you, I’ll get pregnant. Even now, I’m at risk. I need tiny chaperones.”

“Is that so?” He said rising to his feet with a mischevious look on his face, glancing between my eyes and lips. I took a step back and the wall was there. I was trapped. I tried to look oblivious but when he leaned against the wall behind me, with an arm on each side of my head, leaning in so his lips lightly brush my ear, he whispers; “where’s your spray bottle now?”

Oh fuck it. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. His lips were so soft and he was surprisingly gentle and not trying to be handsy. What the fuck was I doing!? I pulled away scanning his face for I don’t know what.

“What?” He asked all breathy and desperate, rubbing his perfect little nose on my cheek, getting almost close enough to kiss me, wanting me to close the gap.

“I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I’ll know when I see it.”

“Shut up and kiss me....please?”

Fuck. Anyone else I would have sent packing, but Mark was so tall, and beautiful, and confident, and took care of his kids, and God he smelled good, and if he fucked as well as he kissed, then I might just keep him. I pushed my lips into his and he kissed me a bit more aggressive biting my lower lip.

This was either a really great idea, or the worst idea I’ve ever had, but either way, I was gonna see how it played out.

#bill skarsgard #billy skarsgard #mark bill skarsgard #single dad mark #mark au #my writing

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georgiaoutloud-blog · 6 years ago

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Ashton Irwin: Tweet Me

You instantly feel nauseous as you stand up out of bed, holding onto the bed post for support as your stomach churned. You ran to the the bathroom and it seemed as though almost as soon as you got there you threw up into the toilet. Your mother came in to find you sprawled across the cold bathroom tiles.

"You can't possible go to that concert today, your to damn sick (y/n)." Your mom tutted as she helped you back to bed.

"But then I'll never get to see 5sos." You wined, reluctantly lying back onto the warm bed.

"There'll be other concerts." Your mom said, closing the door as she left, probably going to make some chicken noodle soup for you.

You grabbed your phone from your bedside table, opening the twitter app, you tweeted, "Sucks, I'm to sick go to the 5sos concert 😭😷"

After you tweeted, you tried to get some rest but your phone was blowing up with notifications, people were tweeting you cute messages like, "Get well soon" and "I'm sorry." You smiled before turning your phone off, it was nice seeing that people cared.

After your nap you woke up feeling bored, you turned your phone back on, there were tons more messages relating back to your tweet but one in particular caught your eye, sending you straight into fangirl mode. You screamed excitedly, your mom bursts into your room.

"(Y/n) what's wrong?" She worriedly asked, feeling your forehead for a temperature.

You seemed to have forgotten how to speak English, "OMG OMG OMG OMG." You squeal.

"(Y/f/n) tell me what is wrong with you right now." Your mom sternly said, tapping her foot in annoyance.

"Ashton freaking Irwin tweeted me." You say so quickly it came out in a blur, "He said he wishes he could come and hug me." After reading the tweet your mood instantly lifted making you feel a hundred times better. While you jumped around your room your mom just stood watching, happy to see you happy.

Your phone was constantly buzzing, people were congratulating you on the tweet from Ashton. "Omg congrats he noticed you." "How does it feel?" "I wish I was you." The messages were never ending.

Although you were the happiest you had ever felt you also felt sad about missing the concert that was now happening. You sighed, falling onto your bed, counting down the minutes to the end of the concert. Yes, you could watch it on YouTube in a few days but you wanted the thrill of being in the crowd, watching the people who meant the most to you doing what they love on stage.

The next day you were still feeling pretty down, your mom kept you home from school to keep an eye on you since you did still feel a little sick.

Halfway through the day you could here voices talking downstairs, you brushed it off, not thinking anything of it. Not long later there was a gentle but firm knock on your closed bedroom door.

"Can I come in (y/n)?" A strangely familiar voice said, although you'd never heard it in real life before.

You stayed silent, the medication was getting to your head and you didn't quite know what was happening. Instead of answering you got up and swung open the door revealing a very real Ashton Irwin. You stood, staring at the boy in front of you, your idol, your world.

Your first thought was that your room was a mess and you looked like crap but then you realised that Ashton Irwin was standing in front of you. "Who? What? Why? When?" Were the only questions you asked.

"Surprise." The boy grinned, his usual adorable grin, the one you fangirled over in pictures.

"It's you." You looked at him wide eyed in disbelief, your jaw touching the ground.

"Yup it's me, your mum let me in. I thought that all our fans should be at our concert but you couldn't make it so I brought the concert to you, well a quarter of it, the other guys couldn't come." His thick, kangaroo-like, accent made you feel warm and happy inside.

"Oh my goodness, Ashton, come in." You stutter, letting him go past you into your bedroom. "Sorry about the mess, I wasn't exactly expecting you to show up."

"Eh, our hotel room looks worse than this." He chuckled, his curls bouncing around his head. "So (y/n), I tweeted you saying that I wish I could come hug you. And here I am."

You felt so many emotions, you could have cried, you could have screamed, you could have even passed out but you stayed cool, a little dazed maybe but you acted as calm as possible. Without a word Ashton engulfed you into a warm hug, his body towering over yours.

You and Ashton talked for hours and hours until he had to leave to go back to the hotel, ready for yet another concert that you sadly wouldn't be attending. "Can I have your number? We should keep in touch. Your a really cool girl (y/n), there's not many people like you."

Of course you agreed to give Ashton your number, he also gave you his after you promised not to leak it to everyone. "How did you know where I lived?" You asked him as he was about to leave.

"Your mum can tell you that." He giggled, giving you one last hug. You honestly didn't want him to leave but you knew he was busy and you had already taken some of his precious time.

Ashton turned to leave but quickly spun around to face you, "One last thing." Without warning Ashton's lips met yours, it was a short and very sweet kiss, something you would forever remember. As Ashton ducked into his car, disappearing into the distance, your finger lingered on your lips, craving the softness of Ashton's lips to be back on yours.

People would never believe you if you told them that Ashton Irwin had come to your house then proceeded to kiss you but you didn't care, you knew it was true and so did Ashton.

Unknown number:

Hey ;) -Ash

You clutched your phone tightly in your hand, rereading the text a million times before replying, you didn't think he'd actually text you. You were no longer just another fan, you were the fan Ashton liked.

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burmecianblackmage · 6 years ago

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KNOW THE MUN - for real! - THROUGH MUSE!

Tag muns you want to know better; repost - don’t reblog.

What inspired you to try/create that muse/s: The year is 2013, and yours truly is a more or less active player on a german site called Legend of the Green Dragon. After having started with a mage character back in 2006 and eventually retiring him, I’ve been playing a young Samurai for a good year and a half, maybe already two, and I am a member of a small guild. It is a guild of similar characters, allowing for their stories to mix and mesh rather fluidly. One of them becomes my boy’s teacher, the other his rival that always tries to one up him when it comes to a certain lady corsair, who after a while falls for my boy. And there is also another girl, older than my boy, that used to be his new master’s sole student (and love interest), and that is mad furious about having to share her esteemed Sensei’s attention with my character.

It is with the mun behind said girl that I am talking, sitting in a little cafe with her as I am on my way back from visiting some people in Germany and decided to stop by. After all, since the guild meet.up the year before, we’ve been rather close friends, capable of both talking about serious stuff and worries as well as brainstorming some delightful nonsense.

One of these nonsense thoughts we have comes up when we discuss Final Fantasy, especially my fondness for Black Mages and FF IX. Having played the game as well and having taken a deep liking to the character of Freya, my friend remarks that she feels her part had been too small ultimately, and that it’s a shame we never got to explore Burmecia and the Burmecians more. And that’s when it happens:

“What if there was a Burmecian that was also a Black Mage? A Burmecian Black Mage?”

It is a couple weeks later when I am back home already and have mostly forgotten about it that I receive a message from my friend, with a dA link attached. A link to this sketch.

Initially, nothing comes from the idea, but I hold on to the sketch. And then one day, when upon lamenting the decline in activity on LotGD, a friend suggests roleplaying on tumblr, and I start to ponder what kind of muse I could play, I remember the sketch.

The basic concept for Sceada (whose name was lazily picked identically to my uername on most sites, I have to admit) takes less than two days to take shape, and on February 4th 2014, I first throw my new creation at another roleplayer and their muse - which, most fittingly, happens to be Freya Crescent.

And from there on out, the little Burmecian Black Mage as well as his backstory and characteristics continued to grow andfrow, further taking shape before ultimately arriving at what you are looking at today - and from here on out, he’ll keep growing further...

What is inspiration for that muse/s: To a large extent, Sceada is an amalgamation of mriad stories I read, as well as several mangas(animes featuring wizards and spellcasters, and last but not least the question, how an adult Vivi might be. There’s constantly stuff influencing and inspiring new facts and developments about him, be it from music that touches me, narratives that move me or even random ideas that come up in conversation, Much of Sceada has been shaped by both what happens to him in plays, as well as what people have come up with together with me.

There’s even some crucial facts about him that only came about because of an at first glance unrelated comment by someone, like for example, Sceada not being a “real” Burmecian, and actually having a non-Burmecian father. That initially came about courtesy of a remark about how he didn’t really look all that rat like, and more like a, I quote, “a damn Tree-Kangaroo” - a sentiment I do not really agree with, but even so... it inspired his mixed parenthood, which in turn developed into an explanation on why he can use magic. Funny how that sometimes goes, huh?

Thread/AU that made you really happy: Currently, I’d have difficulties naming a favorite AU, simply because I don’t seem to have any left running anymore. Sure, I could count the ships as respective verses/AUs, but nah. Those are still the same Sceada. So yeah...

I was always fond of the group verses, and the interactions born from those. Especially Pledged Prelude back in the day offered me a lot of great interaction, and has proven to be a big part of the foundation on which Sceada is ultimately built. Though, strictly speaking it was no AU, and is part of his canon, so well.... I don’t know. Crystathereum was fun, but sadly didn’t get underway as much as we all hoped it would, and the same goes for Crowned Reveries. They allowed me to meet new people, and gave me some fun plays, but ultimately they didn’t stick as long as I’d have hoped.

Speaking of favorite threads, there’s some that come to mind. From the AUs, the battle between Victoria F. Stein and Sceada in Myrefall was a clear favorite, as it highlighted not only a lot about Sceada’s skills but also about his character, and featured some truly interesting - and disturbing - choices on his end. Setting your own clothes and fur on fire so you won’t get ripped to shreds by a blizzard full of icy blades? And then actually managing to save the city he despised as a direct result of that move and the static electricity it built in the storm clouds overhead? Talk about crazy, and crazy fun to write.

There’s naturally also a ton of shipping threads on that list. I always especially adored the interactions between Sceada and Leonora, his first love, and how much he grew from them. Another favorite is Sceada finding Mara after a nightmare, and despite them not being a couple yet comforting her with the words “Nothing you confess could make me love you any less”, I really liked the feeling of that one. Or Maria opening Sceada’s eyes to the fact that Black Magic need not mean destruction necessarily. Selphie telling him she wants children with him, and the lead up to him wanting them to. Sceada finding Fran in the forest after she removed herself due to being in heat. Sceada inviting Maria for Valentine’s Day as friends and realizing slowly that there might be more between them.

I could go on for hours. But for now, let me end this list with saying that there’s many more that could be on here, so many more that were accumulated over the four and a half years I’ve been here by now (and even more if we add my other blogs, because everything with Edea and Kamiizumi was just so great <3), and I’m sure that list will only grow. I’m confident that before long, many many more memorable plays could be added here, with all sorts of partners.

Something really special on your wishlist: Hmm... two things come to mind rather quickly for that. One would be to see Sceada actively teach someone about Magic as a mentor or even professor of sorts. I want to see him pass on his knowledge, see him be an example for the next generation and perhaps even admired by his students - or by his protege, should he only have one student. It’d definitely be interesting to see him in such a role.

Likewise, I really want to see him in a fatherly role. This can be by becoming an actual father, or in others words, by having a child with someone he holds dear, but I can also see it with him watching over someone else’s child, for whichever reason it happens. Did he adopt them? Did their parents leave them in his care while they left for a couple years? Did he find them alone and abandoned? Did he save them from an abusive household? I’d be down for anything in that regard. And I’d really like to see not only the happy sides of being a father, but also the awkward and sometimes uncomfortable sides. The thought of Sceada having to give a child the talk is particularly amusing to me, I have to admit...

Thinking about it now, there’s two more I could actually mention, albeit briefly: I’d like to see the conflict between Sceada and his mother unfold, and not just in drabbles but in actual plays with people witnessing it and being an influence. And if possible, I’d like to explore a polyamorous Sceada one day, as I feel it could suit him well - or, at least, have him confronted with the idea, and realize why he finds it appealing, but potentially not the right thing for him. That’d work too.

Something you are looking for in short future for your muse: Finally making some progress with his Journey. I’ve been awfully slow with it for numerous reasons... *sigh* Also, in some of the ships, there are a number of small... let’s call them milestones for now, that I’d like to reach. But those will develop at their own pace.

Share something related to your muse!

While I was in rehab, my girlfriend had a plush made of Sceada for me, based on one of my favorite art pieces of him. Gotta say, I’m really fond of this one.

And for something only slightly related to Sceada, I want to say that it still baffles me that people would pay money to commission art of my little Burmecian. Seriously, that’s a big deal for me, you guys. Now, for several reasons I may not be capable of showing all of it on this blog (especially the two most recent pieces *cough*), but it is always certain to make me extremely happy.

What do you think about character’s design/how do you came up with this: Both the plays and ideas have shaped Sceada into who he is today and what he looks like. And quite frankly, even if I could start over anew, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

What your muse teached you: It’s less my muse that thought me this and more the muses that interacted with him, but... Everyone deserves to be loved, but that does not mean that you deserve a specific person’s love. Loving yourself and accepting who you are is important. And there are always many sides to a situation. Just because something was devised for destruction does not mean that it can only bring harm, that it cannot protect what we cherish and hold dear.

What is roleplay for you: In equally parts a place where I am allowed to dream, as well as an escape from the real world. It is where I can meet people and bond with them, and write a story no one person could ever write on their own. It is my hobby and my joy, and sometimes, it is also my pride.

Just say something nice about another mun!: I’ve met many a wonderful friend on here, and it would not be fair to just pick one from out of them I feel. So I’ll use this opportunity to tag some people, both ones I actively talk to a lot and those I sadly haven’t as much anymore. So, consider this a shout-out to @artemisxbow @thislovelylady @containyourmainposure @sunny-explosions @dovsebrii @rosalia-the-guardian @riotxblade @the-shadow-of-a-wielder and @not-a-rogue

tagged: @rosalia-the-guardian here: [x], plus I saw it from several others

tagging: I think most of the people that I would nominate and that are active already did this one, so... I’ll pass the tagging for today. If you see this and wanna do this, feel free to tag me though~

#RequestsHeeded #Mun Info #Muse Info #this got rather long... apologies for that x.x

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grapehyasynth · 7 years ago

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AOS Rewatch, Part 9

2x03

JEMMA WE HAVE JEMMA

The cheery little opening with Jemma’s morning routine is a fun little tidbit but also does not seem to match her reality at all? Like yes it’s meant to fool the audience into thinking she left SHIELD and is super happy but she’s alone in this sequence, not putting on a good face for Hydra, so it’s actually quite disingenuous

Hunter in his tiny tanktop. lol I wonder how much the men volunteer to show off their arms and how much is Ann Foley doing God’s work

Jemma carries a gun in her purse and the Hydra security guards were okay with it? Also, our baby Jemma carries a gun in her purse now!

She has a bunch of fancy hats hanging in the hallway of her apartment -- I want to know more

Jemma: “it’s been a tad lonely”

Coulson says Jemma is “very likeable” (thx dad)

I want to know if Fitz knew already/this early where Jemma was -- did he suspect?

Fitz calls Jemma “Jemma”, not “Simmons,” in an official briefing

Jemma likes happy hour and karaoke

Hydra’s black lab coats (in contrast to SHIELD’s white ones) are a bit on the nose

Jemma may be becoming a better liar, but she does the not-breaking-eye-contact thing that Ward called Skye out for as a tell

Fitz is really sensitive to people keeping things from him (a natural human reaction, I think, but made that much worse by many events from last season)

imaginary Jemma speaks for Fitz’s rational side

Omg. The Fitz scenes with Ward. I can’t. Iain’s acting. I die. We all die.

Does anyone actually believe Ward was trying to save Fitzsimmons?

Jemma: “Fitz is very hard to impress”

Just hearing “nice work Fitz” from Coulson probably did so much good for our boy

Skye claims SHIELD is different from Hydra because they wouldn’t take an asset out, but that’s exactly what they do with Donnie, on Coulson’s orders...

There’s no way Donnie would’ve fallen overboard from that show -- the angle (his height, the height of the side of the ship) is all wrong

May believes in Simmons -- “She can handle it. She’s good” (love the contrast to beginning of S1 when May/everyone was like damn these two kids didn’t even pass their field test)

Fitz: “I’m not a killer” -- REMEMBER THIS IN TWO AND A HALF YEARS MMKAY?

I love that Fitzsimmons both asked about each other and were not at all subtle with their emotions even as they tried to be slick

2x04

First of all, solid ep all around

I love watching Hunter be the smooth man undercover. His flirting, his kissing, his little wink to Skye!

I think we *all* love this undercover ep with Philinda

I always think of the BTS picture of Ming and Clark practicing the dance on the deck of a ship

Coulson isn’t wearing a tie and went for a few buttons undone -- bold!

Hunter first met Bobbi on a spring night on a pier

Fitz at May flirting: “That’s alarming”

“Maybe Talbot is still pissed because we kidnapped him that one time”

I also always think of the gag reel portion of Ming and Clark pretending to make out in the elevator

So much messy tuck going on in this episode

Hunter with the soccer ball on the plane -- I want scenes of him and Fitz playing and getting yelled at. I want BTS of Nick and Iain fooling around with it between scenes.

Mack: “All my exes are awesome”

Hunter, Mack, and Trip all know each other’s past a bit (Hunter knows Mack’s romantic history, the ex with quinoa) so it’s strange to me that they never mention Bobbi by name. Obviously, again it’s meant to keep the audience in the dark, but it rings false

“You hate being alone” imaginary Jemma says -- this is SO IMPORTANT to Fitz’s characterization, how we as an audience see and understand him, how we write him -- Fitz is often written (including by me) as a recluse, but that’s more something that shows up in him after the pod, and still seemingly against his will. He likes people, he wants to be with them. He just struggles.

Fitz calling the lab “our place” <3

“Where are you based?” “Currently? About five feet away from kicking your ass.” May. Just -- what a queen.

Coulson would tap May as the next director

Fitz looks so earnest and desperate as he wishes to join in on socializing

I love Coulson outing fake May. “May hates coffee.”

May frees herself and kicks multiple asses- I repeat, what a queen.

I love the team helping Fitz fill in the blanks as they try to fix the plane. They’re eager to help him, to include him -- or maybe they’re just aware of their dangerous situation

Coulson about the 2 Mays: “I can’t believe I’m the only one seeing this right now”

You can see in one shot that it’s Ming’s stunt double, but on the whole it’s impressively seamless

Hunter does one thing and then says “Is that it? Is the plane fixed now?”

I would watch a whole hour (or a whole series) of just Nick and Iain, in character or not.

God their adorable high-five.

Hunter reaching out to Fitz with the beer <3

I love the codependence in Fitzsimmons’s relationship but I also think it’s very healthy for them to have other friends so I love the scenes with Fitz and his bros

“Moving on” -- Fitz clearly doesn’t believe himself

I can’t help thinking of the outtake of Nick salaciously licking his overflowing bottle

May has a cabin in the Australian Outback and Coulson likes kangaroos. Noted.

2x05

Another solid ep all around.

Hunter’s look of delight when Skye challenges Coulson

Poll: Do you say oh-belisk or ah-belisk? (for obelisk)

Kyle Maclachlan’s delivery of “I’m a man trying to put my family back together” is excellent

I love Fitz acknowledging that Mack is quite a man -- whether it’s him projecting what he imagines Jemma would think or thinking it for himself, it’s a nice intricacy

The whole “I still miss her” convo <3

“Shut up Ward” -- why don’t more people say that?

So the writing, essentially, is a way for the obelisk/terrigenesis/Inhuman gene/whatever to propagate? When it doesn’t succeed in a host (like people who aren’t Inhuman, like Coulson and Garrett), it needs to find a viable host and uses the writing to guide candidates there?

I’m curious what city Jemma’s supposed to be in

QUEEEEEENNNN BOBBBBIIIIIIIIIII

Did Jemma move the secret communique or did Bobbi? Either way, v slick

The first time I watched this, I definitely didn’t think Bobbi would be SHIELD. One of my favorite surprise reveals

I wonder if Jemma’s new, darker wardrobe was meant to be a reflection of her emotional state or of her trying to go under the radar at Hydra

lol that they sent at least four men in full TAC gear and helmets to grab Jemma

BOBBI AND HER FREAKING BATONS AND HAIRFLIP

And Jemma’s reaction to the aforementioned is perfect

Hunter: “So is this a group hug type situation?”

I feel like Hunter’s drinking is emphasized too heavily with no follow-through

I love Jemma rambling

OH GOD MY CHILDREN REUNITING

HE CALLS HER SIMMONS AND SHE LOOKS DEVASTATED BY THAT AND HIS SLIGHTLY TERRIFIED RESPONSE AND HER CLENCHED HANDS I DIE

I love the Bobbi/Mack friendship

I love Hunter but I really really love him being flummoxed by Bobbi

Trip knew Bobbi but not that she was Hunter’s ex?

I’m still amazed they got Kyle Maclachlan for this. He’s such a powerhouse.

2x06

I enjoy Scarlotti (the mohawked fake-SHIELD guy) -- he always reminded me of an evil Hunter

lol at the Grumpy Cat mug. There’s gotta be a backstory to why they included that. That was like a full ten or twenty second bit. Why?

The backdrop for the Belgian ambassador or whatever is a quaint little town -- he’d probably be in a city

Jemma’s trying so hard to act normal. Fitz’s adoration for her is so blatant. It’s so hard to know what to feel for these two, to know what they need. To be fair, if someone looked at me that openly worshiping, I’d probably be terrified, especially if I felt like they also hated me for leaving them

Ugh their dynamics are so complex. He accepts Mack helping him/finishing his sentences, but he gets upset when Jemma does it, even though they used to for years. Jemma, meanwhile, is overcompensating, walking on eggshells, not sure where they stand.

Hunter is so thrown off by Bobbi I LOVE IT

The Huntingbird “Don’t die out there” ritual <3

Hunter: “excuse me for doing my job thoroughly. and with style.”

Huntingbird is such a power couple

Poor May having to babysit Huntingbird; Mack has to babysit Fitzsimmons

Fitz says SO MUCH to her it’s amazing. “You gave up on me”, “You think i’m useless”, “I needed you”, “For all I know you could’ve--” -- I wish they’d had a chance/been forced to really talk

I still don’t know the truth of the Ward brothers/the well, but maybe that’s the point

Jemma brings 2 mugs, trying to reach out to Fitz, willing to accept that it’ll take work. And the way he looks when he sees her, the way he says hi -- there’s still hope

“I thought we were rebuilding trust, Coulson” -- lol you’re delusional, Ward

Hunter stalling at the safe house and May and Bobbi crashing in is so amazing

Bobbi and Hunter with the simultaneous leg sweep

Scarlotti’s knife rope seems really inefficient

Adrianne Palicki was born to be a superhero -- with her casual baton twirls and her suit, she’s so set

Jemma is trying so hard, in her own way -- giving Fitz the space she thinks he needs, going instead to Mack to thank him for being Fitz’s friend

The tears in Jemma’s eyes when she says “I know, why do you think I left?”

I’m so glad Mack and Jemma eventually get a resolution to this tension and have that lovely conversation in 3B, but UGH my heart.

Christian Ward says “At first I was ashamed” and I fully expect him to continue “...I WAS PETRIFIED”

“Tell Skye this doesn’t change anything” you’re such a gross man Ward

#aos rewatch #grape rambles #agents of shield #fitzsimmons #aos #fs #fs tag #jemma simmons #leo fitz

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iknownothingihearnothing · 8 years ago

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Sense8 Recap: “Who Am I?”

Alrighty, my first recap back from the dead. And I don’t mean as a vampire.

Sense8 is my new obsession. It’s definitely sci-fi, and I always say “Eh, I don’t really like sci-fi. I prefer stuff more grounded in reality.” Yet, my favorite shows are stuff like Game of Thrones and, of course, my beloved Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel.

I think what really appealed to me about Sense8 was that it isn’t all about pretty white Americans doing pretty white American stuff while being in peril. Don’t get me wrong, the actors are certainly pretty, but they come from all backgrounds, in all different parts of the world. I really dig this Diversity Revolution we’re having nowadays. The television audience is demanding that more types of people are represented and that’s awesome.

Now, I admit that I got into Sense8 originally for one reason. Well, one actor, really:

Hallo, mein Herr! Wie geht’s dir?

I love Max Riemelt. Like, adore to the point where it should be considered unhealthy but I digress. I have total Max Riemeltitis. See, I love German movies, and Max up there is A Pretty Big Deal in Germany. He’s been working for many years. And I, as a fan, have come to appreciate his body of work...as well as his body.

Eh? Eh?

Hashtag-bad-joke.

No but seriously. If you wanna check out the guy’s earlier work, watch The Wave, After the Fall, and The German Friend.

So, I started watching Sense8 for one actor but was drawn in because it’s awesome. All the cast is great in their parts. Yes, they are connected via this psychic thingie but I also enjoy watching their individual lives unfold. Additionally, it helps that our couples have crazy chemistry with each other.

Especially Kala and Wolfgang. Holy crap! Those two sizzle like pancakes on the griddle.

(This man is a Pancake Artiste and my soulmate.)

I totes ship couples who are undeniably hot for each other but can’t be together ‘cause Reasons. See: the Buffy and Angel UST Factor.

Good Lord, those two make me wanna kill myself. In a good way. If that’s possible. Y’all B/Aers know what I mean.

Sense8 explores all the beautiful layers and complexities that make up this insanity that is the human condition. It asks, what does it mean to be human while at the same time making us wonder what the hell is going on.

Now, on to the episode! We open on Will and Riley, our steadfast Already There couple. Will is tossing and turning. Daryl Hannah Angelica is idling on the staircase, all ghosty because she’s dead and stuff, begging Will for help. Will, for a little refresher, has been trying to help the other sensates with psychic showdowns with Whispers via heroin injections. To double the irony, he’s a cop and has kept his body a temple, yet now he’s a heroin addict.

In the dream...or is it a memory?...Whispers has a bunch of electrodes attached to his head while he stands next to Angelica and taps stuff into a computer. Some dude, likely a fellow sensate, is strapped to an operating table and seems to be dying. When he wakes up like this--

--Angelica expresses a wee bit o’ trepidation at what they’re doing. Yeah, I’d follow that gut instinct, Angie.

Whispers, being Mad Evil, holds her hand and kisses her and is all--

I would not trust Whispers to catch me in a Trust Circle. I bet he’d just let me fall to the cold, hard ground. And laugh.

So Zombie Sensate, who kinda looks like Drake, wakes up all Zombied and immediately, under Whispers’ command, it seems, slits some poor schmuck’s throat open.

It’s gross.

Icky!

Angelica says it’s all her fault. Will screams and gasps (I think--Deaf Chick here) and Riley wakes up, soothing him, letting him know that it’s okay and he’s safe. D’aww. Those two are so sweet.

Checking in with Nomi, Amanita, and Mama Caplan, they are tromping through a research facility in San Fran looking for info on genetics. Nomi coyly brings up “homo-sensoriums” with their guide, which are apparently what are Amazing 8 are. So, really, they are, like, a whole new specie of human. That’s nucking futs!

Their guide suggests they go see a Dr. Kolovi at the University of Chicago for more info. She doesn’t agree with his views personally but hey! Who knows, he could be right. People thought Darwin was cracked for his theory of evolution. She tells Nomi a homo-sensorium could walk into her office one day and she’d have no idea. The shit-eating grin Nomi sends her is, well, shit-eating.

Over to Lito, Hernando, and Dani in Mexico City (Isn’t it weird that all the sensates live in *really* populated cities? Mexico City, San Fran, Chitown, London, Berlin, Nairobi, Seoul, Mumbai. No one’s from, like, Bumfuck, Louisiana or Kangaroo Fart, Australia.). Lito and Dani are getting ready for the premiere of Lito’s movie. Remember, he’s been un-closeted ever since Dani’s assdick of an ex leaked her smexy photos. It’s the first real red carpet event Lito’s attended since his outing, and he’s trying to get Hernando to attend. He enlists Dani’s help, and he eventually acquiesces. They kiss--

--while Lito has a mouth full of toothpaste. Look, man. I like a dude with minty breath as much as the next person. In fact, I prefer it. I certainly don’t wanna mack on a guy with breath stinking of Doritos. But there’s such a thing as too fresh, you know what I mean?

Then, as Lito presumably leaves to actually spit out that toothpaste, Hernando wonders if he should be careful what he wished for--being out and proud with his man.

In Nairobi, Capheus is driving the Van DAMN and it’s interspersed with shots of Lito, Hernando, and Dani getting out of the limo to attend the movie premiere of..I forget what it’s called but the poster features Lito with a nun and a church in the background so you KNOW it’s horridly amazing. Once at the red carpet, a fan gifts Lito with a heart-shaped balloon, which he hesitates to take but does with a thanks. The reporter, Mariana, immediately is on the prowl. She wants to know about those pictures. You know, THOSE pictures. Lito is obviously a bit taken aback and stutters that she went right for the jugular.

Red carpet speak for--

Then she needles him further, demanding to know if he’s denying the allegations and that if he’s a homosexual. Poor Lito asks why that matters and Mariana justifies, “It matters to the fans!” That’s what they all say to get the scoop, innit?

In Nairobi, Capheus is also being interviewed by a lady who works for the local television station. She wants to know why he is called Van DAMN and he asks her if she’s ever seen Lionheart.

She snipes back that she doesn’t watch movies that glorify violence, ones where the white dude saves the world.

On the red carpet, Mariana needles Lito a bit further by asking if Hernando is the guy from the photos; she didn’t recognize him with his clothes on. Lito tells her her problem is her lack of understanding and Nomi steps in to point out that labels are the opposite of understanding.

While at the same time, in Nairobi, the reporter is giving Capheus a hard time about idolizing Jean-Claude because he’s white. Sun steps in to ask what courage has to do with a color of a man’s skin.

Yes! In yo’ faces, Mean Reporter Ladies!

Faced with animosity from both reporters, both Lito and Capheus give a speech about just being a kid growing up watching movies with their moms and aunties but they are not those same people anymore. And when they are asked who they are now, there is a montage of all the awesome stuff that has transpired over the course of the series, and they answer simultaneously that who they are now doesn’t matter because everyone’s their own person. And stuff.

Then they both hug it out in their psychic bro connection thing.

The sensates lucked out. They all truly get along, trust, and respect each other. And we’ll learn over the course of the season that that’s not always the case. I love watching these guys interact, whether it’s coming together to protect one of their own and take down a Bad Guy or just to chill. Lito and Capheus should have more scenes together.

Zakia, the Nairobi reporter introduces herself as, looks intrigued. Mariana just looks pissed off.

In the theatre, as Lito on the screen ambles through a cemetery, Lito in his seat tells Hernando a big scene is a-comin’. That big scene is a kiss. Unfortunately, instead of titillating the masses, the crowd just starts laughing. It’s an embarrassing and sad moment for poor Lito and makes me wanna hug him.

In Nairobi, Zakia appears, now dressed in street clothes. She wants to apologize for rustling Capheus’ jimmies earlier. He spoke such beautiful words (a lot of them thanks to Lito; Lito is gonna help get him laid) and they moved Zakia. Would Capheus like to join her for a bite to eat?

I love Jela. We could all use a Jela in our lives. Man or woman.

Our next two sensates are our Buffy and Angel of the group. I’m pretty sure there’s no curse involved with these two, however. At least, not that kind of curse. So Kala and Rajan are buying their first house, and Rajan must make a shizload of cashmoney because that is a Cribs-worthy house. Swimming pool and all. It’s so awesome, the whole family stops to take a selfie while they’re exploring so they can brag share their happiness.

In Berlin, meanwhile, Wolfie and Felix are partying it up in some underground club, getting shitfaced, because that is what they do--that is, other than steal and shoot things. There are quite a bit of club scenes featured in Wolfie’s stories and that’s not just because he’s a badass. I have a few friends in Berlin that tell me you can’t throw a rock in the city these days without hitting the entrance to some illicit club somewhere.

Here’s my favorite German getting more shitfaced.

Entschuldigung...hast du den... *gurgles, smashes through the door*

Some Shady McShade dude comes by their table, introducing himself as Sebastian Fuchs--

*Gigglesnort*. Look, I know. I KNOW, it’s immature and the name means “Fox” in German, okay, I KNOW, and it’s pronounced FOOKS, I KNOW! But...come on, Wachowskis! There are SO many German surnames. Y’all couldn’t think of a better one? A less...non four letter word sounding and looking one? This show is meant for an English-speaking audience, after all.

I mean, there’s a reason that village in Austria keeps getting its welcome sign stolen by American soldiers stationed overseas, you know. It’s because it says WELCOME TO FUCKING.

If you can’t read German that says “Please, not so fast”. It’s like they were asking for it.

Sebastian Fuchs asks Felix if he likes his club. Felix thinks it fucking rocks. Sebastian then decides to just...give it to him.

Hm. Nothing weird there.

Capheus and Zakia are getting that bite. Zakia wonders how he can be so optimistic. She guesses she’s seen too much bad shit. Capheus counters that her simply being a lady journalist would not have been possible in their grandmas’ day and age. Which is very true. You’ve gotta keep getting up in the morning, he continues, and hope each day will be better than the last. Zakia smiles.

Back to Will and Riley. Will seems to be having another dreamemory. This time there’s...a house? And there’s Whispers. He’s standing with a lady. Maybe his wife? And kid, riding a horsey?

Yep, she’s his wife. I know because--

Damn. His wife and Angelica. Whispers is a pimp. An evil pimp.

Riley hastily grabs a notepad and asks Will if he managed to get a name. He didn’t but he saw his wife. He’s getting closer.

Next we have Kala working in her lab when Riley anxiously mind-visits her to tell her that Will is conked out. She mind-rushes to their loft with her supply of medicines to increase his vitamin intake and...science. But, she cautions, this can’t continue for much longer.

All together now--

The poor dude can’t be addicted to heroin for much longer, you say? No shit.

Nomi, Amanita, and Bug have been trying to do their hacking thang but they cannot seem to crack into the BPO facility in Iceland. Every time they try, they’re very nearly traced and Bug is forced to go apeshit on some innocent laptop. “They’re almost as paranoid as I am!” he exclaims.

BPO is full of tin foil hatters.

At the loft, all the sensates are gathered around a still unconscious Will. His chi is low, Sun says. Will has fought hard for them, Capheus adds, but this is a battle he can no longer fight alone. Then Wolfgang steps out of the shadows like a badass and demands Riley not give up on him, as he wouldn’t give up on any of them.

Contrasting with this rather ominous scene is the Rasal family gathered around on the beautiful terrace of their new home in stunning Mumbai. Rajan’s dad has an announcement: he’s gonna run for office. Kala’s father chokes on his wine. Rajan’s mom is supportive but looks skeptical. Kala’s eyes say “oh shit”.

In Chicago, Nomi and Amanita run to attend a seminar conducted by Prof. Kolovi. In his lecture, he alleges that homo sapiens came along and wiped other species out. So, basically, we’re murderers. Survival of the fittest and all that. Afterwards, they ask him if, as in his book, he believes homo sensorium still exist. He thinks it’s possible or that we inherited some of their traits. Then Neets asks him about a former student of his, a Dr. Matheson. She whips out a photo, and Kolovi recognizes him but he has no idea how to get in touch with the dude.

On the way out of campus, Neets figures Kolovi could either be an absent-minded professor or a really cunning liar.

At the loft, Riley is feeding Will this weird Icelandic goop when Whispers shows up. Will seems to have the upper hand on the situation at first, guessing that he is in a facility somewhere in London merely by his suit, the sound of shoes on the floor, the lack of air conditioning, etc. But Whispers quickly retaliates, letting him know that he’s a “fucking amateur”. “They” know that he and Riley are still in Iceland, that they never left. Whispers and his Evil Inc. can hear the birds and the ocean, they know that goop comes from Iceland. It won’t be long before they’ll track down their exact location. Pretty soon they will hear helicopters and Riley will be his.

That’s when Riley injects the heroin and Whispers goes bye bye. And then shuts the recording of the “birds and sea” off. Leaves the loft. And goes to meet her daddy. In Amsterdam.

They totally fooled Whispers. They’re not in Iceland.

I love Riley’s dad. I think he should be in every episode, musically narrating everything that’s happening. Of course, since I am Deaf Chick, it’ll mostly be toneless for me but who cares? He is a delight.

See, apparently, Riley has been getting food and meds--Icelandic food and meds, specifically to further the ruse that they’re still in Iceland--from Daddy. He’s been smuggling it all into the Netherlands. But of course, as a spy, he needs to dress the part.

They’re obviously so happy to see each other and it warms my cold, dead heart. Daddy is on his way to Vienna to perform with the Vienna Philharmonic, because he is that awesome. He also has more goop for Riley. And he worries.

Still in Chitown, Neets and Nomi go to see this lady Will urged them to drop unannounced to see. She is Sarah’s mother. Sarah, as you may recall, was the kidnap and murder victim young Will saw in his mind last season.

They ring the doorbell, Mind-Will in tow, Nomi all insecure, telling the woman stutteringly that she’s sorry and this is gonna sound all awks but--

Thankfully, the woman knows already what they’re there for. They’ve seen her daughter, yes? They go inside. The lady brings up her first visitor, a young boy at the time named Will. Her husband didn’t buy it, she said. He thought it was a load of crap and they were being taken for a ride.

The woman, Helen, goes on to add that Will returned when he graduated Cop School, where he confessed to seeing Sarah. Other people besides Will came to share stories of her also. Strangers, she said. Strangers we recognize. Jonas. Angelica. And Dr. Matheson. “Such a nice man.”

Dr. Matheson is Whispers.

Dr. Matheson killed Sarah.

Helen does not have the best judge of character.

Turns out, they met in the G&T program, of which Sarah was part. Dr. Matheson was her tutor. He walked her home one day and...ugh. Will has not forgotten. Will is going to avenge Sarah’s death.

Cut to Wolfie. He’s watching a tiger pace a cage at the Berlin Zoo in the Tiergarten. Sun appears next to him to ask why the zoo. His mother used to take him there after she and his father fought.

Kay, how adorbs his Little Wolfie?

I want to pinch his little freckled cheeks like my Yiddish Grandma.

That adorable kid will grow up to be Berlin’s biggest badass, who kills his asshole cousin with a rocket launcher.

Sun muses that cages are hard. Wolfgang counters that waiting is harder. And that;s when Will appears, all sweaty. They know he’s having a dreamvision. Riley, at his side, rushes to tend to him while in his dream, Will explores some sort of fancy office. Riley rushes to alert Kala, who mind-warps to Will to check his vitals and inject him. Then they all descend upon his office. In London.

Will was right.

Nomi uses her hackabilities to track down Whispers. They quickly get leads on his corporate letterhead...

...his boss’s class ring...

..even where the clay dog on his desk is from...

...and that he’s got kids.

Nomi and her crack team find it all within minutes.

Whispers is busted. And he looks terrified.

Meanwhile, Boss Man is all--

All the while, Nomi is tracking down who this guy is. After a few nos from Will, they’ve got it. He’s Richard Wilson Croome. Whispers/Matheson is astonished at being compromised, spills all his blockers, and scampers out of the office.

In addition, it was kind of cathartic to see Whispers cowtowing and being cowed by Boss Man. He thinks he’s top dog when in reality he’s just a cog in the machine. It’s awesome for the Amazing 8 and us and humbling for His Majesty.

Will concludes the episode by grabbing Whispers by the lapels and biting THIS fantabulous line:

“You think you’re hunting us? We’re coming for YOU.”

BAM!

What a great opening! And that last line? Woo, gave me chills, it did. I swear, all these actors are fucking fantastic. And I read they’ve become a sort of family, more so than other ensemble castmates even, because they travel the world together for their show. It’s pretty cool. I can’t wait for more! It’s my new THANG!

#sense8 #brian j smith #doona bae #max riemelt #jamie clayton #toby onwumere #miguel angel silvestre #tuppence middleton #tina desai #wachowskis #sense8 season 2

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violecentstrs · 8 years ago

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Our True Love - Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you for those who are following the story and the one that gave my previous two chapters likes and re-blogs. I really appreciate it! I didn’t think anyone would read it, but I am pleasantly surprised. So thank you very much for that again! Without further ado, I hope you enjoy the story! (Again, I apologize in advance for any grammatical mistakes in my stories.)

Previous Chapter(s): Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: None Word count: 3,043 Summary: Reader and Bucky doesn’t get along well after his marriage to Rosaline. Will her friendship with Bucky last or will they crumble and fade?

★ ★ ★

I haven’t laughed this much since Bucky’s engagement party.

“I swear! His white boy’s ass was running with 90 degrees arms on his sides like a robot.” Sam says as he re-enacts the way Steve runs. Bucky is swirling the drink in his hand, eyes staring out to somewhere in the crowd and lost in his own thought.

I clutch my stomach from the laughter, nearly spilling the drink in my hand. Steve only manage little chuckles, watching his friend do the exact opposite way of how he runs. It wasn’t weird to him.

“At least I actually run. Unlike you.” Steve answers. I place my hand over my mouth with my eyes shifting between both of them. Sam lets out a laugh before approaching Steve.

“You want me to show you how it’s done? I bet yo ass that even the Falcon can beat the American eagle any day!” Sam says while cracking his knuckles. Steve lifts his hands up before backing off, admitting defeat.

“Calm down, boys. Especially you, birdbrain.” I say, pushing Sam back a little by his shoulder. It did little to back him off since he is three times bigger than me. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“What about you? I bet you run like a kangaroo.” Sam says directly towards me with a mocking tone. I raise an eyebrow.

“Kangaroos don’t run. And I think I run quite normally compared to the both of you.” I say as Sam rolls his eyes. I look over towards Bucky to see if he is listening; of course not. I follow his gaze into the crowd. My chest tightens a little when I realize who he is looking at: Rosaline. I take a quiet deep breath.

“I bet you run like a robot too, Buck. Heck, you are a half robot yourself.” I call out to him. He turns his head to look at me with a small chuckle.

“Not that I know of. But I have to admit, Steve does run in a weird manner. Even when he was a kid. Right, punk?” He says while petting his hand on Steve’s shoulder. Steve rolls his eyes this time, getting a little tired of people making fun of the way he runs.

I watch as Steve and Bucky exchange laughter with each other at the statement Sam just made. The pain of the heartbreak is still there, but it is bearable now. After that night when Bucky was angry at me, I apologized to him the next day. He was still angry at me. But after a while, we are fine again. Not like what we used to be though, even lesser than that.

I missed seeing him laugh and smile. The way his hair falls down to his face when he leans down. The way his eyes stare at yours when you both talk. It helps with my acceptance process. I was also able to talk with Rosaline without feeling that physical pain in my chest. I even managed to visit their apartment without the need to bawl my eyes out when I get home.

“How are things with Rosaline, Frozone?” He directs the question to Bucky, catching my attention. A hint of red on his cheeks form before he steals a quick glance towards the laughing Rosaline by the couches.

“Great. She makes me happy. It is wonderful.” He answers, a little hesitant. When he talks about the things he loves, he gets shy. This side of him had always been adorable.

“Yeah, seems like you both are very happy together.” Steve says wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulder to pull him into a quick side hug. Bucky only let out a small laugh.

To see Bucky so happy, it does make my heart light up. The twinkle in his eyes, the sweet smile, and the shy voice: all had been traits of Bucky that I missed the most. I’m happy to get to see them again. Steve glances over at me. I replied to him with a smile. A very genuine one.

“Have you done the dirty?” Sam asks straights out, making me choke on my drink. Steve nudges Sam, signalling him to shut up. Bucky’s face turns into a playful one.

“Of course.”

That answer somehow made something rip inside my heart.

“So a baby might pop out soon, huh? You and Steve should plan that out. Both of your children will be friends like you both were. I bet Sharon and Rosaline don’t mind.” Sam adds. The thought made my head spin. Looks like I was wrong into thinking that I was already accepting their marriage after all.

“Y/N! Come here.” Sharon calls out for me. I breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Be right back.” I say to them before heading over to her. Thank God, Sharon. I can hear Steve and Sam laughing as I make my way through the crowd. Perhaps it was good that I left. I don’t know how I’ll handle the rest of that conversation.

When I arrived at the couches, Sharon was with Rosaline and a man I’ve never seen before. I held my breath when I finally saw his face.

“Y/N, this is Richard, my step-brother. He recently moved here to find a job.” Rosaline introduces him to me as her brown eyes sparkle under the light. When my eyes caught with his, I feel little butterflies flutter around in my stomach. He was extremely good looking.

Dark brown hair, green eyes, tan skin and a very sexy jaw line.

“H…Hi, Richard, nice… uh, a pleasure meeting you. I’m Y/N.” I stutter a little while holding my hand out to shake his. He gives me the warmest and sweetest smile I’ve ever seen. And I thought Bucky’s smile was the sweetest.

“The pleasure is all mine, Y/N. I heard a great deal about you from these two ladies.” He says charmingly.

His voice melts my very core. I blush at the statement as he pulls my hand up to leave a sweet kiss on the back of it. I can feel my insides shake at the elegant gesture. His lips feels soft and warm against my skin.

“I hope they said nothing bad about me.” I joke, keeping my eyes glued on him.

“Well, that’s that, I need to check on the cake. Richard, why don’t you chat with Y/N? Come, Sharon.” Rosaline winks at me before pulling Sharon off the couch. Sharon just smiles before trailing after Rosaline.

I watch them disappear out into the kitchen while still trying to make sense of that little wink Rosaline just delivered to me. Now here I am, sitting alone with this man I had just met. My heart beats fast as I sink deeper into the couch with my drink still in my hand.

This is so awkward. I don’t deal well with new people by myself. Especially when that person is extremely hot. I grip onto the glass in my hand a little tight, unsure of how to start a conversation with this man.

“You work at the Avengers Headquarters, as Rosy says?” He begins, sipping on the glass of wine in his hand. I didn’t try to make eye contact with him, not when I’m alone. I just feel like I will make a fool of myself at any second if I do.

“Yeah, I manage files mostly. Keeping the system organized in the missions division.” I answer, keeping my eyes down at my feet.

“They must depend on you a lot then. You work hard, don’t you?” He asks. I let out a small laugh still my eyes glued to my shoes. But I do manage a few glances every now and then. He is handsome after all; I can’t miss this chance.

“No, I just keep things organized more than anything really. That’s all.” I say, glancing up at him. I catch his green eyes in mine. My heart skips a beat.

“Hm, how long have you been working there?” He asks, still keeping a strong grip on my gaze. I play with my hair, straightening it out; it was a little tangled.

Oh God, wait, how do I even look like, right now? My eyes shift around the room to see if I can get a reflection of myself anywhere. Is my hair okay? Is it tangled and weird? Is my face clean? Is there a little chocolate stain on the side of my lips when I ate that chocolate earlier? Is there boogers in my nose?

“Y/N?” I jump at his voice.

“Ye…Yes?” I say looking at him. He raises an eyebrow. So cute.

“I asked you a question.” His chuckle is so warm and sweet, like hot chocolate.

“O…Oh yeah. Urr, I’ve been working there for four years.” I say. My voice is a little shaky. Oh God, such an impression I’m leaving on this man. He lets out a small laugh. I look at him surprised.

“Sharon told me that you can be very shifty and nervous around new people.” He says, looking right through me. I turn back to the glass in my hand, embarrassed at his statement. Gosh, I’m an idiot.

“Just relax and don’t be shy. I’m a laidback kind of guy.” He says, leaning into me a little. I look at him, catching his eyes in mine again. Stunning. This man is utterly beautiful. So beautiful it made me forget all about my heartbreak when Bucky slipped that ring on Rosaline’s finger.

I take a deep breath before managing a smile. Right. I should just take it easy with this. We ended up talking that whole night after I finally manage to grow comfortable around him.

Both getting excited when either of us mentioned the things we like. Like our love and interest for musicals, the different books and the types of music among others. Agreeing with each other on certain things we disagree upon and debating on the ones we do have different views on.

It was like out of a book. Meeting someone who just seems to understand everything we say and feel. I had forgotten where I was after being so deep in a conversation with him. It felt like we were the only ones in the room despite the other twenty different people there.

I was happy and excited. We both had an instant connection. But, all the while we were conversing, I could not shake the feeling of someone watching us from far.

People started leaving at around eleven at night. I step outside in the small garden to get some fresh air after Rosaline called Richard over to help her.

Steve and Sharon had planted the flowers in the back, but all that’s left are leaves since it is summer. I look at the clear night sky, catching a few stars scattered around in the blanket of darkness. I smile satisfyingly.

“You seemed to have enjoyed yourself tonight.” Steve’s voice coming from behind. I turn to look at him. I blush a little when I catch a glimpse of Richard talking to Sam inside the house. I smile.

“Yeah, it was nice. Thank you for inviting me. I hope Sharon will like the perfume.” I say, drifting my attention back to the sky. Steve stands next to me following my gaze to the sky above.

“I’m sure she will.” We were quiet for a few moments. The laughter and chatter from inside the house is still loud despite how many people left.

“Do you still have feelings for Bucky?” That question just slapped me in the face. Hard. I forgot about Bucky momentarily when I was lost in Richard’s eyes.

“Takes a while, Steve. Three years of feelings does not fade away in three months. But I am doing better every day.” I answer. I suddenly smelt a familiar scent when the breeze brushes through. I inhale the air and turn my attention to a bush flower just next to me.

“Lavender?” I ask. Steve nods. His blue eyes seems bright under the night sky.

“Oh. You need them too, huh?” I look up at him, picking off a stem of the flower from the bush.

“I do have problem sleeping sometimes, yes. But I mostly grew them for Bucky.” I look up at him, blinking. I let out a small giggle.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just the things that you would do for Bucky is adorable.” I say while running the flowers under my nose. Such a heavenly scent.

Steve keeps his eyes on me. He slides his hands in his pocket, showing the little shyness creeping up from underneath his blank expression. Anyone is lucky enough to get Steve as their best friend. He will do anything to keep you safe. I wonder if Bucky even knows how much Steve cares for him.

“Steve. Rosaline and I are about to leave.” Bucky calls out from the doorway of the house. Speak of the devil. He looks at me surprised.

“Oh, Y/N. I was looking for you.” He says while coming down the steps towards Steve. His blue polo shirt and black jeans make him blend in with the darkness around the garden a little too easily. Only that his metal arm would have given away his position if he did try to sneak up on someone.

“I’ll go say bye to Rosaline first, then.” Steve makes his way up to his house a little too fast. I am left alone with Bucky now. I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t know what to expect if I ended up making contact with them.

“Did you have fun tonight?” He asks. I twirl the stem between my fingers, smiling to myself before looking up at him. His light blue eyes staring deeply into mine.

“I did. It was so much fun. Did you?” I answer genuinely. I truly enjoyed my time here, especially with Richard. It was the break I needed, with the exception of the little questions from both Sam and Steve earlier.

“I did as well… Richard seems to like it being around you.” He says. My heart jumps a little at the mention of his name. When I turn to Bucky he had a surprised look on his face. I must’ve been blushing.

“Is that so? He is interesting and we did talk a lot. We share a lot of things in common.” I say while remembering back to the conversations we had. His expression changes a little.

“You seem to awfully like it being around him too.” Bucky says, running his metal fingers through his hair. I watch his hand carefully brushes the strands away from his face. The way the metal glimmers under the moonlight and the light from inside the house reflects on his features takes my breath away.

I was speechless. My heart thumps wildly in my chest as I stare at him. He is truly a piece of art work. From the top of his head down to the shoes; he looks like someone straight out of a painting. His blue eyes fall back on me.

“What?” He asks, pulling me out of my daydream. I shake my head before smelling the scent of the flowers in my hand again. It calmed my nerves.

“Lavender?” He asks while looking at me. I look down at the flowers before holding it out to him.

“Yup. Do they still help you sleep?” I ask him. He holds out his metal hand, accepting the flower. Despite it being a killing a machine, his metal hand holds the flower rather delicately. He was afraid to crush it.

“Yeah. A little.” He answers while looking at me.

“I’m glad. Keep using it then.” I say while tucking my hair behind my ear.

“Bucky, honey. Let’s go!” Rosaline calls out from inside the house.

“I’ll be there, doll.” He shouts back at her. The tone of his voice made my heart crack. I manage a smile for him.

“I’ll see you later then, Sergeant.” I hesitate for a moment but eventually, I reach out to give him a good solid hug. His arms wrap around me tightly and almost desperately too. The way he pulled me in against him knocked a bit of the wind out of me. A moment of nostalgia passes through us.

I haven’t hugged Bucky in so long now, have I?

After what feels like forever, I pulled myself away from the hug. I didn’t want anyone to see us like that. Bucky didn’t seem to want to let me go in that instance, though. My hands linger on his shoulders as his lingers on my waist. I look up at him, examining the familiar blue eyes. One I had seen so many times at nights like these.

“Y/N, I—”

“Y/N! I found you!” Richard yells while going down the small steps. I glance over at Bucky when I feel his hands suddenly gripping at my shirt. But we part away from each other immediately when Richard approached us.

“I’d like your phone number, please.” He says while handing me his phone. I take the phone and enter in my number quickly. When I hand it back to him, Richard leans in to peck my cheeks softly. My body froze when his lips make contact against my skin again. My chest feels like it’s going to burst.

“Thank you, darling. We’ll keep in contact. Let’s go, James.” Richard winks at me before making his way up the steps. I place my hand over my cheeks where Richard had kissed me. My face warms up.

“James!” Richard calls out again, waiting by the doorway. I look over at Bucky who is still standing next to me. He is wearing a rather dark expression on his face. He looks over at me.

“I’ll see you later.” He says darkly as he makes his way back into the house. I watch him as he disappears into it with Richard. My heart is beating wildly and happily inside my chest at the kiss Richard had left me with. But at the same time, my chest tightens with worry; why did Bucky look so angry?

★ ★ ★

A/N: I didn’t realize that with each chapters, the story gets longer and longer. I’ll try to play it down a little next time, but we’ll see. I hope you enjoyed it and let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to fix or improve on. Your inputs are much appreciated. Thank you very much!

Next chapter coming soon!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #sam wilson #OC #captain america #captain america fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #sebastian stan #the winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfiction #otl #ourtruelove

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skittidyne · 8 years ago

Text

this is for @kaiyouchan and i won’t explain why

Kenma couldn’t really be called ‘awake’ just yet. The morning is still grey and drab, full of fog and dew, like the day is still in the same semi-conscious state the little witch is in.

Tetsurou has a lot of fondness for the quiet parts of the morning. There’s a ritual to it all, full of softness and silence, all of it drenched in familiarity. He’s never been able to replicate this kind of feeling with either of the tengu, not like this, not in the cottony parts of the morning, but that’s alright. Tetsurou hoards these mornings like precious gems.

Kenma gets out of bed usually on his own (usually spurred on by Midna), but that’s about as much as he’ll do without further provocation. Tetsurou likes to think that the cat is on his side; she’s already been fed by the time she drags Kenma out of bed, so there’s no real reason except to get him upright and out in the kitchen.

Tetsurou slides a bowl of fruit loops across the table as Kenma sits down. His eyes are still scrunched shut, nose a bit scrunched too, like the entire idea of consciousness still offends his dreaming mind. Kenma pours milk into his cereal with magic so he doesn’t have to move more than he must. It’s always best to give him a bit of sugar in the mornings, to help kickstart the waking process, Tetsurou has found. Cereal works as well as pancakes, if a little less fun to prepare.

Tetsurou sets his chin in his hands and happily watches Kenma try to feed himself. He himself isn’t hungry yet; he usually doesn’t eat until whenever lunch is, as much as that varies; Tetsurou has his own routines, and he prefers them that way, despite Keiji’s occasional nagging.

Kenma isn’t much more conscious by the time he’s worked through most of his breakfast. Tetsurou can only see a sliver of eye peer up at him, like he’s checking to make sure he’s present, before Kenma turns away again. His hair hasn’t quite grown out again, but it’s long enough to hide his eyes when he wants.

(Not right now, though. It’s still unruly from bed - and the night before - and Kenma hasn’t bothered to brush it yet. For everyone who says Tetsurou’s hair is a mess, he’d like to point them to Kenma some time.)

Kenma curls up on the couch, using Tetsurou as a pillow, and they both check the news and cat apps and email on Kenma’s phone. Tetsurou feeds the Neko Atsume cats for him, Kenma scrolls through news sites and taps out the accurate ones, and Kenma has dozed off again by the time Tetsurou is invested in a feel-good story about big cat cubs in an overseas zoo. The grey of the morning has turned to silver, then to bright pink and blue as the sun is well up over the horizon, but neither stir just yet. There’s no need yet.

Midna, yet again, is the one to decide Kenma’s schedule. She jumps down onto his stomach from the back of the couch with little remorse, making him oof and hiss in pain. She meows directly in his face.

“I think she says it’s morning time,” Tetsurou says quietly, not wanting to break the morning’s peace.

“She kept me up last night,” Kenma petulantly replies, “so I’m still tired. Brat.”

Midna meows again, then headbutts him, purring loudly. Tetsurou can’t help but chuckle. “It’s not her fault it stormed.”

“How did I end up with two babies about loud noises?”

“Hey, I’m good with thunder!”

“You’re both still bad with fireworks and gunshots.”

Tetsurou hums and doesn’t reply; Kenma certainly doesn’t push the issue. He’s never judged Tetsurou for that kind of thing, but neither will he shy from the topic, and it comes up from time to time without warning, like now. He doesn’t like to think about it.

“Sorry,” Kenma murmurs. From this angle, Tetsurou can’t see his eyes, but his mouth has a hint of a frown in the corners.

“You’re fine, you’re just cranky because your sleep was interrupted by a ball of fur and claws. Do I need to dress you too?” he coos. Kenma’s mouth immediately twists down into a scowl, but as he shifts around so he can glare up at Tetsurou, he knows the heavy bit has passed.

They may be into the talking portion of the morning, but it’s still soft at the edges.

They continue through their routine - Tetsurou does, Kenma goes along like a limp noodle. Speech doesn’t always equal ready for the day, and since there isn’t much on the plate for today, Tetsurou lets it slide. He kind of wishes his lazy days corresponded to Kenma’s, though. It’d be nice to lay around in bed and cuddle for an extra few hours, groggy and warm and extra affectionate.

Eventually, Tetsurou drags Kenma into something close to clothing. He still doesn’t really see the difference between sweatpants and pajama pants, but he trusts Kenma’s preference, and he himself likes wearing soft pants out and about, too. They haven’t been able to find a size that perfectly fits both his hips and his long legs, but they’re trying, and Tetsurou doesn’t matter the exposed ankles when it’s warm out.

It’s well past noon when they manage to leave. Kenma has pulled on that ridiculous hoodie with the pouch on the front that Tadashi had gotten him (as a joke, Tetsurou thinks, but he’d also given one to Suga, so maybe not) and Midna eagerly clambers in. It’s not as kangaroo-ish as Kei claims, but it’s still an overwhelmingly adorable sight. Kenma’s phone is full of pictures like this.

(Midna goes along with it because she doesn’t have to wear her harness if she stays in the pocket. Tetsurou doesn’t understand the connection between witch and familiar, but it results in a spectacularly well-trained animal, he’ll give them that.)

They walk instead of taking a broom or trying to squish onto the train. This way takes them through the shopping district, so while Tetsurou doesn’t know what’s on the list of today’s errands, he can guess. He window shops as they make their way toward the bookstore.

Tetsurou considers it a bad omen when they find the part timers standing outside the store.

Tadashi isn’t on shift, apparently, but Kei is, and his mood doesn’t seem to approve when he spots them. Not that that’s all that surprising or indicative of what’s going on inside, since that’s his default expression (disdain), but the others are worrisome. “Is Tadashi not here today?” Kenma asks as soon as they’re near enough. Midna pops her head out of the top of the pocket and the tall redheaded guy - Tetsurou thinks his name is Inuoka, or something, all he knows is that he’s the guy Tadashi accidentally turned into a werewolf - coos at her. She lays her ears flat and glares at him.

“He caught something, I guess?” the werewolf guy volunteers after a cheery little wave. “Tsukki’s filling in for him!”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I borrowed a book from Sugawara from him. Can you return it?” Kenma asks.

“Ah, Sugawara is actually...” Werepuppy makes a complicated hand gesture, seeming embarrassed, and Kei’s mood doesn’t improve, either.

“What trouble has he started now?” Tetsurou asks with a dramatic sigh. Kenma inclines his head toward the store, and Tetsurou steps around him to investigate in his stead.

Inside, he is surprised to see Suga here again. But more surprising than that is that that his beau is nowhere to be found. Yukie glances over to him, three sticks of pocky stuck in her mouth, and otherwise dismisses him. “Kuroo!” Suga calls as soon as he spots him, meaning Tetsurou can’t just back out of the store again. “Alright, you’re a neutral enough party. Settle something for us!”

Yukie slurps down the pocky like they’re noodles. He doesn’t want to know how. “He’s not exactly a neutral party,” she points out.

“We can’t use your coworkers, they’re too biased.”

“What about the little witch who summoned him? He doesn’t like you.”

“Now you’re just being rude,” Suga pouts. With a gesture and a running leap, he clambers up onto one of the bookshelves, peering over into the next aisle over.

Something breathes a jet of fire back at him.

“What the hell are you two up to in here?” Tetsurou groans.

Yukie swipes the pomegranate smoothie off of the countertop and slurps it loudly as she sidles around to stand at his side. Suga spares them both a particularly dirty look. “So, there’s like, a thing here, and Koushi thinks he gets rights to it? Even though it’s not his store and it’s my job to eat trespassing creatures.”

“Iwaizumi told me that Tooru told him that Kyoutani is missing a wrymling from his clinic. I’m not about to let her eat someone’s pet!”

“That’s quite the chain of events,” Tetsurou remarks.

“Also, it’s totally not a wyrmling,” Yukie adds with another slurp.

“I think I know a wyrmling when I see one.”

“It’s some kind of feral salamander.”

“It’s definitely a wyrmling!”

“It doesn’t have wings.”

“You can see the wing joints, it’s just missing them right now. I think I know what amputated wings look like,” Suga exclaims, exasperated, and peeks down into the aisle again. More fire.

“So you want me to guess at what this thing is?” Tetsurou asks, definitely not here for this kind of bickering.

“No, you need to decide who gets it! Do you want me to return this to some poor soul who lost their pet?” Suga demands.

“It’s setting the store on fire,” Yukie retorts. She finishes the smoothie with one last, extra loud slurp. (Tetsurou kind of wonders if hunger spirits are immune to things like brain freeze.) “Daichi would be ma-aa-ad,” she sings, taunting.

Suga gives her a baleful, kicked puppy look.

“Let’s see what this thing is,” Tetsurou breaks in, and he and Yukie sidle around bookshelves until he sees a squat, fat little reptile thing sitting in the middle of the aisle, happily gnawing on a selection of burnt romance novels.

Tetsurou has never seen a salamander before, and he’d only seen a wyrmling once, years ago.

“No clue, guys.”

Both Suga and Yukie groan.

“But I can help you catch it. I feel kinda bad for the books,” he adds.

It takes an ingenious (read: ridiculous) mixture of sleep soot (who knew that shit was flammable?), levitation, another smoothie, Suga’s coat, and Yukie’s stockings to tie it off before the thing is angrily swaddled and definitely doused. It squirms and squeaks wetly, looking particularly sorry for itself, if such mystery creatures are capable of that kind of thing.

And, because he’s good-hearted but stupid, Tetsurou stashes the thing under one arm and announced, “Alright, I’ll be taking this, then!”

“Huh?”

“We have to stop by the clinic later for Midna, so I can see if this little thing is the missing pet.”

“You just want to eat it yourself,” Yukie accuses with narrowed eyes. Even Suga looks like he agrees.

“That’s rude. I would never eat something that has the possibility of burning me from the inside-out.” If it’s not the pet, though, he thinks he may give it to Kei. He may have mellowed out on the spiritual diet front, but Tetsurou still feels the need to feed him whenever they see each other.

Not that they need to know he’s sniping this for such a reason.

“I’ll be calling Tooru later to check on that,” Suga says, relenting with a scowl.

“You do that. Oh - but Kenma has a book to return to you. We borrowed it from Tadashi awhile back.”

Suga trails him out of the store, to Yukie’s irritation. The part timers take in their sooty appearances and the angry reptile under Tetsurou’s arm, but none of them comment; with a shooing motion, they scurry back into the store to hopefully fix things before a less lax manager comes in to see the mess.

Kenma’s eyes fix onto the mystery creature. To Tetsurou’s disappointment, he doesn’t immediately identify it, or even comment on it. Instead, he holds out a battered old notebook in Suga’s direction.

“That little shit! I didn’t even know he had this!” Suga exclaims, affronted, and clutches at the notebook like he’s being reunited with something particularly valuable. It hadn’t even been that useful of a book. Kenma doesn’t comment, so neither does Tetsurou, though he does shift the angry little creature away from Kenma and Midna, just in case it decides to start spitting fire again.

After Suga leaves, and Kenma drags Tetsurou away from the bookstore before more can happen, Kenma quietly says, “You get into trouble a lot.”

“Nah, this is just another regular day.”

“Not really.”

“Sleepy morning, extra cuddles, running errands with a cat and running into magical mayhem? Yeah, it’s a normal day.”

“We have other, more normal days.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

Tetsurou grins, and tries not to laugh at Kenma’s face when he realizes they’ve lapsed into another one of their little arguments. He always does the scrunchy nose thing when he does. “We can try again tomorrow for a ‘normal’ day, whatever that means.”

“...Kay,” Kenma sighs, and reaches over to grab Tetsurou’s free hand. “Tomorrow, then.”

#bbac feelings #y'know just a day in the life

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wayneooverton · 6 years ago

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Where is New Zealand? And other questions you’re too embarrassed to ask

I don’t know why this keeps happening, but New Zealand has been left off a world map. Again.

This isn’t the first time either. In fact, it happens frequently. WTF guys?

There was even a #GetNZOnTheMap campaign to remind people that hey, we’re a tiny but awesome nation down here in the Pacific so please don’t forget about us.

I know, it’s hard to keep up with every country, especially the tiny ones that seem far, far away but I thought this blog had done a decent enough job of helping shed light on what New Zealand is all about for foreigners.

Apparently, there’s still work to do, so let’s get into it.

Is New Zealand Real?

No joke, this is the first auto-fill question that pops up in google after you type “Is New Zealand…”

Yes, it’s real. It’s an actual country with a functioning government and real humans with jobs and lives and hobbies. Population – under 5 million people.

Someone please tell that to Kazakhstan who once detained a Kiwi traveling there because they were skeptical that New Zealand was a real country. Jesus.

Where is it?

New Zealand is an island nation the South Pacific Ocean, about 2,000 km east of Australia across the Tasman Sea.

It’s made up two main islands (North and South Islands, yeah we know, creative) and a few off-shoot smaller islands.

Bottom of the world!

Is it the same as Australia?

No, they are completely separate countries. Please don’t ever ask this in New Zealand if you don’t want to get punched in the face.

Ok, but can you drive to Australia?

Also no. These two countries are separated by 2,000km of open ocean. Definitely not.

Are there any dangerous animals?

No, not really, unless you count humans.

We have no venomous snakes, spiders, scorpions or bitey insects unlike our neighbors across the Tasman.

We do have one species of venomous spiders, the katipō, which is super rare to see. They are quite shy and will probably only bite if being squished. There is no evidence of any deaths due to a katipō bite in the last 100 years so you’re probably safe.

There have been a few, rare spottings of red back and white tail spiders, likely brought over from Australia. Thanks a lot, guys. But again, nothing to worry about, you probably won’t even see them.

What side of the road do they drive on?

In New Zealand we drive on the left side of the road.

If you’re visiting and you have never driven on the left before, you’d do everyone a great favor if you looked up the road code and familiarized yourself with this driving style before coming over.

Roads are different here, they are mountainous, winding, and generally not that great. And dangerous tourist drivers are all too common here.

Is New Zealand a modernized country?

Yes. We have electricity and cars and even the coveted world wide web.

We don’t have central heating though, so I guess it depends on your definition of modernized. (Okay, okay we do have heating but old New Zealand houses are notoriously drafty and poorly insulated.)

Do you have kangaroos?

Negative. We’re happy to keep that drama over in Australia.

Do you have dolphins?

Yes! It’s common to see dolphins all along the coast.

Do you have sharks?

Yes, however, shark attacks are infrequent. Only 12 people have been killed in shark attacks since we began keeping records.

You tend to have sharks when you’re an island nation surrounded by open ocean.

Do you have owls?

I don’t know why this is a frequently search question, but apparently, it is. Yes, we have owls in case you were curious for some reason.

The native morepork or ruru is an owl and it is known for its haunting, melancholic call and is an important creature in Māori culture and it’s the only native owl species left in New Zealand.

Do you have penguins?

Do we ever!

New Zealand is home to more 7 species of penguins: Rockhopper Penguin, Tawaki or Fiordland Penguin, Snares Penguin, Erect-crested Penguin, Yellow-eyed Penguin, White-flippered Penguin and Blue Penguin.

They aren’t as big as the Emperor Penguins you’re probably picturing in your head right now but they are still cute and adorable, and many of them are endangered.

Do you have crocodiles?

Fuck no.

Are there really as many sheep as everyone says?

Yes, we have about 9 sheep to every 1 person in New Zealand. They are cute and adorable when you first get here but like most things, they quickly become commonplace and really not all that interesting.

Springtime here is amazing when all the little lambies are born.

Where is Old Zealand?

The name New Zealand comes from the Dutch word “Zeeland” and was dubbed New Zealand after being spotted by Dutch Explorer Abel Tasman from the Netherlands in 1642.

As you may have guessed Zeeland is a Dutch province in the Netherlands. The Māori name for New Zealand is “Aotearoa” which means land of the long white cloud.

A much cooler name if you ask me.

Do New Zealanders live in Hobbit Holes?

What the hell is this question? Sigh.

Although if you’re Lord of the Ring obsessed, you can visit the original set of Hobbiton and take a tour. Just keep in mind actual, real Kiwis live in actual, real houses.

No one lives in the hobbit holes in Hobbiton. I hate to spoil it, but there is nothing inside, and they’re empty.

Do they celebrate Australia day?

No. Australia celebrates Australia day, and even there it is controversial.

Do they celebrate the Fourth of July?

No. Think of why that holiday was created and then ask yourself why any other country in the world would celebrate that besides America.

Is New Zealand part of the EU?

No. We are not even apart of Europe.

We were once governed by Great Britain but slowly gained our independence and now remain as a colony of Great Britain. Technically, the queen of England is also our queen but we run our parliament completely separate from the Monarchy.

Is it really like what I saw in Lord of the Rings?

I mean I guess?

Scenery wise, it’s just as (if not more) impressive than the movies. Culture-wise? No. Please refer to my earlier answer on living in Hobbit Holes.

When are their seasons?

New Zealand is in the Southern Hemisphere so they have summer from December through February, autumn from March until May, winter from June until August, and spring occurs from September to November.

It’s basically opposite.

Does the toilet water flush the other way?

I literally have no idea. This is something I’ve never paid attention to. I wouldn’t even know which way the water flushes in the northern hemisphere. Y’all need to get a life.

It’s a small country, I should easily be able to get from the top to the bottom, right?

Technically, sure, depending on your definition of easy.

You can certainly drive the length of the entire country (albeit, you have to put your car on a ferry to get between islands), however, it’s going to take you a while.

By area, New Zealand is slightly larger in size than Great Britain and driving from tip to tip will take you well over 24 hours in a car. The roads are long and crazy, no modern straight highways here.

Does New Zealand have a president?

No, we have a Prime Minister and she’s a certified BOSS.

View this post on Instagram

Happy Lunar New Year!

A post shared by Jacinda Ardern (@jacindaardern) on Feb 2, 2019 at 2:26am PST

Is New Zealand safe?

Yes, super safe.

In spite of the recent terrorist attack in Christchurch, we have a few random spots of crime but compared to the rest of the world, we’re doing okay. Our murder rates have recently hit a 40 year low.

And our boss of a Prime Minister Jacinda has had our gun laws changed in six days to make it even safer.

Is New Zealand expensive?

It really depends on what you think expensive is. If you’re coming to visit and you’re expecting prices on par with SE Asia, yeah, you’ll be in for a shock.

Here are some price points to help give you an idea so you can make your own conclusions: a beer at the pub ($8-10), movie ticket ($18-20), a liter of gasoline ($2.30/liter, $8.50/gallon), an in-season avocado ($2), an out of season avocado ($6.50), a coffee from a coffee shop ($4.50-$5), monthly rent ($800 – $1200/month), a cheap lunch ($10).

Most people consider it fairly expensive, especially kiwis.

What language do they speak in New Zealand?

New Zealand has three official languages:Māori, New Zealand Sign Language, and English.

They tend to mumble when speaking English so even though, yes, technically it is English, it might leave you scratching your head for a hot minute before you figure out what they’re talking about. Kiwi slang is going strong here!

What continent does it belong to?

No continent. New Zealand belongs to Oceania which is a region of the world, not a continent.

A continent is a large land of mass so places in the world (like New Zealand and Hawaii) that do not belong to a continent but rather a region of the world that is dominated by water. Oceania is divided into sub-regions including Polynesia, Micronesia, and Melanesia.

New Zealand falls into the subregion of Oceania, Polynesia (as does Hawaii in case you were wondering)

Is it really as magical as it seems?

Yes. But also no, of course not.

New Zealand is doing some amazing things and yeah, sure, it’s stupidly beautiful but at the end of the day, it’s a country, just like yours. We have our own issues and areas for improvement just like any other country. Sure we have postcards worthy landscapes around every corner. But we also have one of the highest youth suicide rates in the world and the runoff and mismanagement by the dairy industry is polluting the country at a rate that’s almost laughable.

Yes, we are planning the use of single-use plastic. But we also have one of the highest rates for family violence in the developed world. What I’m trying to say is, yes it’s a great country but just like any country, we still have a lot of work to do.

People to idealize it here, me included. It’s magical to many but it is imperfect too.

What did I miss? Have any burning questions about New Zealand that you were too afraid to ask? Spill and we’ll reply, though we can’t promise we won’t sass.

The post Where is New Zealand? And other questions you’re too embarrassed to ask appeared first on Young Adventuress.

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gsmatthews95 · 6 years ago

Text

Oz: a recap

The time has come. It has been ten months in waiting but it had to come. It is with a slight twinge of sadness but an overpowering sense of excitement and happiness that I am leaving Australia on my way to Singapore. Which is actually pretty ideal because I have a nice long 9 hour layover. There are very few occasions I would describe a 9 hour layover as "ideal" but this is one of them. Such a cool city. So much to do and see. And, apparently, it isn't even too big. So I'm hoping I should be able to DO/COMPLETE Singapore in a nice six hour stint, tick it off my list, add another pin to the map and tell everyone about how I've now basically completed Asia. Sick eh?. A wee bit more background before I delve into the meat of this potentially juicy post which I think I will compare to a fat fillet steak by comparison to the rest of my posts that I would say are more like coles BBQ sausages, 24 for $8... good value but not much substance. A good reference I reckon. So I'm currently on my flight. It is maybe 9am Aussie time and I am awake, not that tired, with very little to do in this flight as I went for the lost budget option (still pretty expenny). You have to pay 11 bucks for films, Ye right. Go do one scoot airlines. Urgh, absolute scandal for a 7 hour flight. No worries however. Gives me ample time to write an absolute Goliath of a blog post. Okay seriously guys stop cheering. It's distracting me and my brain flow you have to pay for food and entertainment. Not good. However, the there are two upsides to this flight with nothing to do, firstly it allows me to blog blog blog and the other upside of this prehistoric flight comfort is that it gives me a chance to register to Stephen Hawkins "a brief history of time", what a bangin audiobook. Well bloody confusing but I feel cleverer listening to it. Although in the last nine months I have forgotten the vast, vast majority of it. All the better it's like a new book. I'm now not that excited however about my connecting flight to Berlin. 14 hours. 13 hours of no films, just sleep, urgh lame. I may find some more wee audiobooks. I'll tell you what, I may get the game Of thrones ones. They'd be immense, especially as I'm now a proper game of thrones loser (read loser as legend/fanatic).

This is what I mean, I have so much time to ramble this piece is gonna drag. Oo I have an idea. As I didn't have this blog for the majority of the trip should I go back and wrote posts for them? Hmmmm, that does kinda defeat the point of the blog though. I don't think I'll do that. the other nagging question is whether I carry on the blog for the next 3 months as I galavant around Europe. I think I should. You're welcome guys. I love you all too. Also sick that I'm using my British passport to its full extent before we F off out of Europe as part of brexit. Wooo freedom of movement. Cosmopolitan ideals, something we should probs all strive for as much as possible. However, I do think we probs made the right decision leaving the EU as most people who have spoken to me about it will know. This post is not about my political views however. Otherwise it would not be called holidaying. Maybe something like #Jezza4PM would be a better name for it if I were to become a political blogger slash activist. But I digress.

So as many of you may have gauged from speaking to me, reading this blog or merely by observing my Facebook presence. I have had an immense time. Even though my article about the ups and downs of travelling may have seemed a bit depressing, I can safely say the last ten months, yes that ten months, a long time, have been smashing. I am currently conflicted, in poor stylistic technique I have embarked upon this post without a plan. And now I am at a crossroads. Do I continue chronologically or thematically? I think I will stay true to convincing writing styles and go thematically. Let's push the boat out he he. Ok ok ok so I'll start with my hostels. I believe I do want to talk about them a little bit first. To start, I have been in lots. Off the top of my head in Sydney alone I was in 7 separate hostels. Many for a week as I was forced to move because of the price increase, my bed being sold, being chucked out etc. But 3 main ones. Firstly, hump. What to say about this place. A mad house, a good outside smoking area, a room that stays open all night and a lot of sound people who I've seen since leaving Sydney too. One jack gawthorpe, I've seen in four separate places (who's stalking who...). My month or so there was heavy. There was always something going on, I have very fond memories. Secondly, dury house. As described by James, my friend who I took there one night: "that was literally a crack den". Yes James, but it was our crack den. With the roof that never closed and the never ending session, there was always something going on, whether it be 11am on a Sunday morning or 4am on a Friday night. And again some belter people, who again I've seen down the east coast. Thirdly, finally, and ultimately we had the palms. What a place. What a time. November-December 2017. The palms glory days. Clean hostel, nice kitchen, comfy beds, sound people, like a giant sharehouse it had the intimate feel that you knew everyone but was big enough to still be lots of fun. The palms massive made my first xmas away from home so fun and so comforting. Never forget. Loved everyone there, except dan obvs, I hate dan. Everyone else though, I love you. And the hostel. I'll give a quick shout out to bev and micks in Melbourne. Small, intimate, cosy and friendly. Not that exciting or fun but enjoyable for my three weeks. Plus it was the cheapest place around. However, barossa backpackers. Dirty, smelly, small, tiny kitchen, leaky fridges, small room, had to pay for wifi and in the middle of nowhere. Pretty crap hostel tbh. But as I was there for some time, working with and living with everyone. I had an unreal time. Even working in a potato factory. So much fun cause you're constantly with you're mates and chilling, I won't forget those few months in barossa. The hostels down the east coast were nice. Big and nice but with my motivation waiting and the fact that I was staying at each place for a few days I didn't really form much of a bond with many of them. The hostel is key to your experience. Regardless how long you are in a place for but especially if it's for the long term. And overall I think I did well with a only a few mistakes.

Work. Ok so work never went quite as I'd hoped before I came out to Australia. Maybe I was naive, maybe I just wasn't made for call centres. My one regret actually was not going in to construction in Sydney, making lots of money, doing easy work and finishing at 3:30 each day. I then could have done it all over oz as I'd have had experience and wouldn't have had to do some of my crap jobs. We live and learn, one of my bigger regrets I'd say. No hassle though, all has worked out well and I haven't been too low on money. But yes call centres and cold calling, not the job for me. Neither as it turns out is face to face fundraising. What I have learnt though is that there is no worse job than those and I now have sympathy for those doing it, I have the knowledge that I will never work in a job like that again and it has now given me a great appreciation of any job that isn't that. Which was one reason I think I enjoyed the potatoes so much. Mainly because it was so easy and so much less depressing than my other jobs. Everyone constantly complained, I just smiled and said it could be worse. People said the job would break me. It never did. Smashing job, smashing people, smashing time. The worst of all these jobs though was the charity fundraising, I knew it would be but I just wanted 2-3 weeks work and it paid well. I lasted 1 week. Never again. The best job. Easy. Grape picking and wine making. It was so sick. I got a lot of hours, lots of free wine and food and learnt to make wine in the sun. Dream job. I even have a wine named after me, I'm gonna get a case delivered home of the 2018 vintage GSM lol. But that's enough about work after all it is a work holiday visa.

This part will be harder to split up do I discuss specific experiences? Or parts of the journey. Oo I have an idea. Animals. I have devoted a few pieces to various animals but I haven't spoken about all of them. There are two that I will leave out though as they deserve their own piece. Australia, famous for its diverse and unique wildlife and I think I've done well in seeing a lot of it. And I got selfies with lots of them. Firstly I have fed and patted wild kangaroos and wallabies. So cute, they love carrots btw, not apples so much. One of the wallabies even had a tiny Joey in its pouch. Too much for my heart. They're great I loved em both. Then came the quokka. As many of you may have seen by my Valentine's Day post devoted to this one. They are like giant rodents. Although they're not giant, and they're actually cute. I dunno how to describe them actually just look at my photo, well adorable. I will now move on to the dangerous segment of the list of animals, cause, as we all know, that's what oz is most famous for. Firstly, the red back spider, v venomous. Hannah (friend not sister) almost died as she entered his layer/graveyard and only just escaped with her life. I have also seen three wild snakes, woohoo. That was a real target. The python in the kitchen and the two cuties slithering across the path in Lichfield national park and the twelve (4) apostles. Now. The personal favourite. The crocs. There have been lots of crocs, none completely in the wild without a tour guide sadly, but the jumping crocs were wild and were damn sick. I even have a croc tooth necklace (sorry axel, Brutus and dominator). The one animal conspicuous by its absence I haven't seen though, sadly, a shark. Waaaaa I should have gone shark cage diving, ah it was too expensive anyway. I think I'll carry on with my sea critters vibe now for a few more. Next was the manta. MANTA MANTA MANTA. I saw lots in Indonesia but another at whitsundays. So big, graceful and noble. I love them, as everyone does, they're god personified in an animal I reckon. I would like to be a manta ray. Next up dolphins. Not many and both times I saw them from a cliff. Not overly exciting mainly because I have been spoilt in the past both in cornwall And in the SAN blas when they swam with our boat, so very nice. My final sea dweller. Whales. Lots of humpbacks as I said in my Fraser Island piece. They are awesome, so big and majestic and loving. I would also like to be a whale. Sue me. I saw lots of camels too, they're funny I like camels teehee and dingos, they're so cute, not scary. I would like to chat to a dingo and befriend him. I love dingos. I think however, my proudest find and subsequent selfie was with the koalas. We found 8 on magnetic island. One barely 8 foot away. Perfect for a selfie. And I snapped it yay. They're such chillers too, I love koalas. I love animals actually. I also miss Rolland, I love you too Rolland!!!

So as to stop myself writing another dissertation I may make this the final para. And I'm going to try and be concise. My favourite moments. I won't describe them much but merely mention them. There's a variety of reasons why a moment could have been so great. Maybe where I was, what I was doing, who I was with. Who knows? Maybe I just felt at peace and the world felt right for a moment. Deep. And I'm not talking about every moment I sat down with a full box of goon. Ok ok seriously. The hump boat party. Both 1 and 2. Unreal, a boat party in the Sydney harbour, beers, mates, opera house, swimming, tunes, I won't ever forget those two days. My first moment seeing the extent of the blue mountains at the end of the garden of the nbb Jill and Richard had so kindly rented for us. A little ten minute walk and you were on the edge of the crator with the blue trees stretching out, I reckon I spent a couple of hours just sat there over the three days, peaceful. Sash, pretty much every sash, but one in particular when I'm pretty sure everyone I knew in Sydney was there. It was sunny and we boogied. I was having so much fun several separate people came and asked me if I sold drugs cause I was so deliriously happy. Oo also the sash it rained that was unreal, dancing in the rain with the boys, never forget. Two more from Sydney. The beach party, amazing. One of the best, if not the best day of my life. Music and goon on the beach, swimming as the sun set over the harbour bridge, so wicked. And finally xmas day. Singing for the Aussie prime minister with a broken voice having lost it the night before was something I will NEVER ever forget especially as I have the video of it all ahahahaha. We move on to mine and Hannis road trip. My first thought. The pinnacles. The pinnacles were sick, so random just a load of pointy rocks in the ground. I doubt two people have ever been so excited in one place. So funny. Also actually hannah, all of our carpool karaokes. They made your company bearable. Completing the 8km hike in kalbari was also a good moment as it was 30+ degrees and we had about two litres of water between us, stupid English. But we did it, I'm proud. Finally hanni, 100% when we chilled with Roos in morriset park for hours after Jill and richard basically laughed us down for going, v funny. A good afternoon. Days of our lives festival. Awesome, what a send off from Sydney. Dury house you did yourselves and me proud, cheers for convincing me to go xoxoxo. The whole outback trip was awesome, if I picked a few moments though... I reckon the first proper big fire was a great moment, and sorting out the car light that we couldn't turn off meaning we didn't have to take the fuse out every time we stopped the car, sheer happiness. Also getting in to alice springs. This may seem weird but I cannot explain how touchy everyone was, we needed food, civilisation, electricity, a shower and some goon. We got all of the above and spirits were restored. Also the natural springs were amazing. So beautiful, completely free and refreshing. Darwin, croc diving, easy, it was unreal. Spotting the koalas on magnetic island obvs was memorable. I want to pick some moments from Fraser but it was all so fun. If I had to pick a few though, I'd say the horse racing on the second night united everyone, we were all so into it and the crumbed sausage obvs haha. I have missed things out but when I look back on oz these are the things I feel stand out as specific moments but like I've said before travelling isn't just about the moments (sorry Alina) but the whole experience, what you feel and who you meet.

What a holiday. I am content with my time in oz. if I came back I'd change things but I'm happy just the way they went. It's been sick. Stay posted I have one more oz piece before we move to EUROPE yahoooooooo. This piece has literally killed at least two hours of my flight maybe even three. I have been very engrossed aha. But back to mr hawking for me. G.

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