#in sunday morning when everyones a husk

[angst-king]

Corruption of Humanity Chp2

(CW this chp will contain of isolation. this chp's pretty tame) The weekend was tame she couldn’t come in on Sunday due to the center getting temporarily shut down til Tuesday. Tuesday came and when she got there, there were a lot more people hustling around, more people wearing lab coats, some in an almost FBI-grade uniform. Emily still hadn’t gotten a lanyard badge yet so she couldn’t get through the gates without help. Thankfully a woman with dark brown and blond hair saw her.

“Hi, are you the new handler/attending?” Emily nodded and the woman used her badge to let her through.

“I’m Eve, you must be Emily, nice to meet you!” “Nice to meet you too, so what happened yesterday?” Emily asked while they walked down the hall.

“Well, one of the level 3 bordering on 4 patients somehow managed to breach containment and wasn’t the happiest to go back,” Eve said with a slightly nervous chuckle, Emily looked surprised.

“Shit really?! Is everyone okay, did you get them back?” “Yeah it took a bit but they managed to lure him back, I mean I don’t exactly blame him for trying to escape. The shit I’ve seen over the years I’d try too if I were them.” Emily raised a brow at Eve’s response, what did she mean by that? If it was just over the fact that they didn’t like being locked up then that was understandable but. With how Eve said it, there seemed to be more about this center than what meets the eye.

“What do you mean by that?” Eve slowly stopped walking and looked around before answering with a serious look on her face.

“This place isn’t as helpful as it wants you to think, I can’t say much right now but. You will quickly see this place isn’t to help them or for the public’s safety.” Emily didn’t know what to make of this, it's not that she didn’t believe Eve, she knew places could be corrupt. She didn’t know what to feel, Emily just nodded quietly.

“I’m doing what I can to make things bearable for the patients here, as long as you don’t get in my way we’re good.” “I-I want to help in any way I can, I-I’m new so I don’t know what I’m doing though.” “It's okay if you want you can stick with me, I would say also stick with Husk but he’s got his hands full with another coworker of ours and I don’t want you around when those two get into spatting matches.” Eve continued their walk to the employee stock room.

Inside there were two other people, a woman with short silvery white hair and amber eyes almost golden. A young man with short brown hair and similar eyes, both were changing out of tactical gear into a set of scrubs and talking.

“Adam, can you move I need to get into the med bin and pack a grab bag?” Asked Eve, Adam smirked and leaned over the woman.

“Oh come on no ‘hi’ or ‘good morning~’ some girlfriend you are” Eve rolled her eyes and pushed past him to get to the shelf she needed. Adam stumbled back and adjusted his scrub uniform with a ‘hmph’. Finally, he and the other woman noticed Emily standing beside the door awkwardly.

“Ey you must be the fresh meat we heard we got the other day” “Yup, I started Saturday.” “You wanna join the exorcism team? It's a lot more fun hunting down these monsters than it is watching them drool and scream.” “Th-the what?” Adam folded his arms over his chest pointing his thumb at himself dawning a proud grin.

“The exorcism team, we’re the ones who bring in or take out those freaky beasts. We’re also the ones who handle containment breaches. Lute’s my second in command” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the silver-haired woman pulling knee pads over a set of scrub pants.

“I-I think I’m good, I don’t mind looking after the patients. I’ve already got two of them, Charlie and Vaggie.”

Adam let out a laugh and leaned against the wall.

“Ah, so what’s it like dealing with freaky angel’s daughter?” Emily furrowed her brows but before Adam could say anything else Eve handed Emily a red bag, and grabbed her by the hand leading her out the door.

“Talk to you later Adam, can’t be late for rounds.” She said as the door shut behind them, Emily took the bag and saw a key card lanyard hanging from it put it around her neck, and slung the bag over her shoulder.

“What did Adam mean?” Emily inquired referring to him calling Charlie ‘the freaky angel’s daughter’ “I’ll tell you in private, let's go check on your patients first, they need their vitals taken.” Eve dodged, Emily figured it was serious if this had to be explained in private. Emily knew not to ask any further questions on the subject and just followed Eve to the level one group. Up first was Charlie, Eve asked Emily if she wanted her to come in the room with her but Emily declined.

“I can handle it myself, she seems to like me. So I think I’ll be okay” “Alright, I’ll wait out here in case you need me.” With a nod, Emily swiped her new card and entered Charlie’s room. This time Charlie was sitting up in a mess of blankets on her bed, brushing out her hair, softly singing to herself while facing a plastic mirror. Emily realized that Charlie looked to be the same age as her. She knew Charlie wasn’t human and she didn’t know how aging worked as a Nephilim but, she and Emily appeared to be very close in age—looking to be in her early maybe mid-20s.

“Hi Charlie, I like your singing voice.” Charlie stopped but thanked her in return, she looked exhausted as if she hadn’t slept in days. Dark circles shadowed her under eyes, the way her eyes stared back at her looked unfocused and trance-like.

“Well I have to do vitals on you, is that alright?” Charlie’s trance-like state quickly changed to scared and he scurried into the corner of her bed wide-eyed and terrified.

“N-no no no no please no no no” Emily held up her hands defensively showing there was nothing in her hands that could hurt Charlie.

“Hey hey it's alright, I’m not going to hurt you I promise, I just need to check a few things.” Charlie seemed ready to cry and started shaking by now. What happened for her to get so scared of a check-up? This couldn’t have been her first time right?

“Is this your first time getting a check-up?” Charlie shook her head and whimpered while curling up, knees to her chest as her tail wrapped around her securely.

“N-no more experiments, pl-please, th-they-they hurt, and-and are scary.” Tears began to fall down her face and Emily could feel her own heart breaking. Maybe Eve was right this place was doing some fucked up things, she didn’t know what they had done for Charlie to react in such a way over a simple check but it had to be bad. Emily backed out of the room to see Eve looking sympathetic.

“She freaked out when you mentioned taking vitals, didn’t she?” Eve asked, Emily nodded solemnly, Eve sighed and told her to stay out of the room. Heading inside herself, Emily stayed behind to watch through the one-way glass window. She watched Eve calm Charlie down and perform the vitals check while she stood outside feeling bad. Had she approached her wrong? Was she too sudden, should she have talked to her first? Was it because she was new, and Charlie didn’t feel safe letting her do it?

Eve came ten minutes later and started towards Vaggie’s room.

“Hey don’t be too hard on yourself, you’re new so you’re learning. You didn’t expect Charlie to react like that. I’ll handle Vaggie because I know she can be a bit combative, especially after hearing Charlie cry.”

Emily agreed and once again she was tasked with observing through the window. Eve was correct in Vaggie’s combativeness. Vaggie would push her away, yell, and shield her with a pillow. It took a solid 7 minutes until Vaggie would let Eve examine her. Coming back out with a tired huff, Eve told her to follow her to her office. Once inside the door was shut and Eve offered Emily a seat. She gratefully took ready to Eve to explain everything.

“You asked what Adam meant by ‘freaky angel’s daughter’…As you know Charlie’s file says Nephilim which means a cross between an angel and a human. But she looks similar to a demon.” Eve slid herself into a chair as she spoke lowly.

“That's due to an experiment that happened many years ago. I had a friend, her name was Lilith, and Lilith worked with a patient named Lucifer. He was one of our firsts and was created by the owners, he was an angel. A seraphim and archangel. He wasn’t treated very well but Lilith became his handler and started to treat him like you would any human being. With love and care. They eventually fell in love and they weren’t the best at hiding it. One day the team decided it would be a good idea to see what changes they could do to Lucifer….They ended up changing him into a demon though he still possessed his seraph abilities. This didn’t stop Lilith from loving him though.” Eve’s eyes trailed to the floor with sadness, it sounded like she missed Lilith as if she had gone.

“Lucifer loved Lilith too, one thing led to another and they had a baby by some miracle….but that miracle was cut short by the organization…I don’t know where Lilith is now or if she’s even alive, and Charlie has never known who either of her parents were.” Emily was on the edge of her seat, they took their baby from them. It's been years and Charlie still doesn’t know! What had they done with Lilith, would they really kill her off?

“Wh-what happened to Lucifer?” “He’s kept in isolation, weakened so he can’t escape or go out to see anyone. He’s barely taken care of anymore. It's truly inhumane what they do to the patients here.”

“What else have they done?” Eve crossed one leg over the other and pushed her hair up into a ponytail.

“Most of these patients here….most of them used to be human, not all were created or found or brought. They were turned. Some were utterly sick fucking criminals from the prison system, others were psych patients or regular people. They’re brought in and experimented on to see what they can be turned into. They’re hardly fed and treated like animals. Yes, many of these patients are dangerous and have never been safe for the public but, they used to be human.”

“W-wait what?! They just take random people and turn them into ‘specimens’?” Eve nodded, Emily wouldn’t believe it, this place was definately not as advertised. What Eve was explaining was sick in the head, how could someone do that to another human being!?

“You said you wanted to help them, do what you could for them?” “Yes, I try to prevent too much traumatizing stuff from happening to them. I try and comfort the patients after or before experiments, sometimes I’ll even try to convince the other teams not to go through with it. That one doesn’t work very often but when it does I’m grateful. Though it's been just me and Husk trying to help the patients, everyone else is hellbent on making their lives miserable.”

“Husk?” “Oh he’s one of the handlers, he looks like a grumpy middle almost old man who hates everyone but he can be very sweet when he needs to be. He handled a patient named Alastor, and another named Angel-Dust. You might meet him soon who knows.” Emily didn’t know what to do with all of this information, she just started working here! What could she do? Was it ethical to keep working here knowing what they did? Sure the pay was all right but this was insane that they were even allowed to do any of this!

“I know it's a lot to take in and I understand if you want to quit while you still can. Sometimes I often regret not doing so much, much sooner.” Eve said reassuring she couldn’t be upset with Emily if she did. But Emily didn’t know what to do, one part of her was saying she should quit. However another was telling her to stay, that she could help, and everything would be okay once she got used to it!

“I’ll think about it.”

[christmascocos2023]

Sunday 20th August

Take 2 of Motorised Canoe trip! Up again 0445 . This time the wind is not mad and no rain so🤞. Must say was a bit harder to get up this morning😁.

Have just got back and it was magic! Weather perfect. Where you go is to 4 separate islands but all in a protected area(by islands and reef). Area is used a lot for kite surfing as apparently international standard. We went at the peak of high tide and it is not deep at all as you can easily see the bottom. It is another picture perfect environment . The group was 20 and all couples except me. Big advantage was as the canoes are 2 person I got to go with Kylie one of the guides. So thankfully didn’t have to start the motors or steer. I just sat in the bow and my only job was to drop the anchor when told😁. So I was able to look around and enjoy the trip with no responsibilities 😁.

The canoes are motorised outrigger canoes. The motor looks a bit like a glorified lawn mower engine😂.We got a very quick introduction on how to start the motors and when, how to turn them off quickly and when and how to steer. Also what to do if we got in trouble. Kylie’s husband Ash comes with a motor boat and Kylie leads and he brings up the rear. Some of the men knew boats but some were pretty challenged as I was but by the end everyone was looking pretty confident. We only had trouble with one engine and that was my boat and as Kylie the driver not a drama. It is Ash’s job to fix the mechanical/motor issues as they arise on the hop so to speak.

The first trip in the canoes was the longest and most challenging as a bit of swell and chop so got soaking wet but was going to be anyway! They do loan you wet bags for your gear to protect them from getting wet. In the chop the canoes can take on water and they have a handy thing to bail water that gets in If needed. Some is ok but to much isn’t! You are told you will get wet in the canoes!.

Our first stop was an island that they had set up tables and there looked to be a bit of a structure on it though not sure what is for. Kylie put some food scraps out for the 1 remaining chook on the island and it also brings lots hermit crabs. We then were served cheeses,ham some salmon with sourdough bread, biscuits and dips. With that was choice cool drinks,beer or Champagne. Very civilised as we all stood on the beach and chatted. Ash then told us we were going to have a Hermit crab race. He drew a big circle and then another one just inside it and a small one in the middle. We all got ourselves a crab put them in the inner circle and we stood on the outer one. The first crab to reach the circle before the one we were standing on won. My crab came equal 3rd after a slow start. He came up from behind 🤣🤣.

We then went over to an island that has a colony of endangered skinks and did a count of what we saw in 3 designated areas. This is done for parks and wildlife to help keep tabs on them. Sort of citizen science. The next island we stopped and walked through a path across the island(about 10mins max) saw a huge frangipani tree the size of a coconut palm and popped out in an area that apparently at low tide you can walk from tiny island to the next on and there are lots! This area apparently is a big one for bird lovers as a type of bird that does get to Australia ones in migrations at certain time year. Sorry don’t remember all the specifics as not into birds😁.

This island is also the one the locals come and spend the day or camp (not legal but the locals ignore it😂) Johnny Clunies Ross who lives on West Island camps there a lot apparently 😁. Beautiful place if you have a little dingy to come across as a family even for the day which they do. Saw lots families enjoying it, cooking little gas fired burners I assume they bring themselves. Lots shade, very safe for kids, couple hammock s set up, pretty perfect! Ash also did a coconut husking demonstration and we tried the flesh of the ripe coconut and of one that was not fully mature so the white bit filled the whole nut and was soft rather than just the edges of the harder coconut meat. Some people tried to husk one themselves as we had the option. As the husk uses a star picket sticking about 30-40 cm out of the ground it is a bit risky but none got hurt trying.

We then went to the island from which we did snorkelling. I have developed a problem keeping my face down when snorkelling, partly due to be concerned I would end up off course and separated from my group and partly because my claustrophobia seems to kick in. So it was with some trepidation I decided to at least try. The idea was to snorkel around the island and pop out the other side directly opposite where our canoes were and walk to them. As it turns out the walk was about 2 mins😁. Kylie led us and Ash stood on a headland with a life buoy in case anyone got into trouble. Have to say pretty hard to do so given it is quite shallow and you can stand but have to be careful to stand on sand bits and not on the corals,but as you turn the headland there is a strong current. Fortunately it just pulls you to the sandbar near where we were to get out. However to see some really good bits you need to swim against it to get there and I am obviously not a strong enough swimmer as I couldn’t quite make it. However I bobbed up a few times when saw sand and then snorkelled so did see heaps. Saw lots fish with some swimming so close they would almost touch your goggles, Corals, sea cucumbers, reef sharks babies, and 4 turtles! It was well worth braving it even if I did pop up a few times😂😂.

We then helped put the canoes up and got driven home. It was a magic day and if tomorrow is the same weather my Turtle tour should be the same.🤞.

Comment

They advertise for kids and any age group . The website actually says you have to be able to get in and out of a canoes and moderate fitness.However we had an obese man and his elderly father who uses a walking stick turn up. They ended up not coming when they realised that some physical stuff was needed. They were offered a ride with Ash in the boat but the elderly man would not have been able to get into it. You have to be able to at the very least get into the canoes backside first, no step ins, obviously you have to be able to get out and sling an anchor, walk in water and on a track that whilst flat is strewn with dead coconut fronds and fallen coconut trees you have to step over. You don’t have to snorkel so that is fine. They also provide snorkelling gear if you don’t have it and they have a few reef shoes and Crocs you can use assuming they fit😁.

Although told to bring bathers(in fact you need to wear them as no place to change and anyway you get wet as soon as you head out on the first leg😂.) some people just wore shorts and top or those Kathmandu long travel trousers. I assume because they didn’t intend to snorkel they assumed they wouldn’t need bathers😏.

I would definitely recommend this tour, well worth it.

We were also told that Cocos is suffering with affects climate change. The seas are rising, sea temps increasing and tides changing. There has also been a loss of their sea grass due to the dredging done to created and build the Ferry Jetty which took years longer than predicted . This is what killed off the sea grass and with it the food for Green Turtles who have had to compete with the other type for the centre of corals.Plus loss of some fish.

Also there is the work on the runway that is being done by RAAF and apparently they expect to have a RAAF base here in a few years. So this little idyllic island will change.☹️

A few photos of the motorised canoe trip. Don’t do it justice ! I used the canoe again next day when did the Turtle Tour again with Kylie working the motor 😁. Also couple of the crab race😁

[pengosolvent]

music poll (edit: closed)

Thank you to everyone who voted!

---

i gotta make a vid or two about songs of mine that changed over time sort of like a progress vid where i play old versions of the song and point out changes 

id appreciate if you voted in the poll! https://twitter.com/PengoSolvent/status/899020488512598017

[i-am-not-a-who-i-am-a-what]

there was a moment from yesterday’s episode that set off so many alarm bells in my head and i haven’t seen anyone talking about it yet so i’m going to get my thoughts out there. i’m putting the majority of this post under a readmore bc it got very long thanks to all the transcript quotes i pulled but i really want to know what everyone else thinks about the Implications™

BASIRA

Okay. So… what do we know about Hill Top Road?

ARCHIVIST

Not much.

BASIRA

Another blind spot?

ARCHIVIST

No, it’s – I could look at it, but it… it was… it was like a… a hole. You know that feeling you get when you look down from a, a great height, like you’re being pulled into the abyss?

BASIRA

Kind of?

ARCHIVIST

[Getting lost in thought] Well it was… was like that. Normally I can see it, see the… webs, and feel the power of The Spider emanating from it, but… as I would look… it’s like my mind…. follows the paths of The Web,

[STATIC RISES]

the strands going down and… out… [Catching self] It’s quite disorientating.

[STATIC FADES]

my first thought after hearing this exchange was “huh, that sounds eerily similar to the description of the table the not-them was trapped in.” here it is from mag 3 - across the street:

I’d become enraptured by the table on which he’d placed my tea. It was an ornate wooden thing, with a snaking pattern of lines weaving their way around towards the centre. The pattern was hypnotic and shifted as I watched it, like an optical illusion. I found my eyes following the lines towards the middle of the table, where there was nothing but a small square hole.

my first instinct was that this was some foreshadowing for jon meeting some kind of horrible fate, because well... remember what happened the last time someone got mesmerized by the table?

SASHA

Oh, hey. I’ve found… I’ve found that table you were talking about. Don’t really see what all the fuss is about. Just a… basic… optical illusion. Nothing special… just… just a… wait…

[Hushed and panicked] Jon! Jon, I think there’s someone here. Hello? I see you. Show yourself!

but then i started thinking more about why the table specifically would be referenced, and i remembered the earliest we see it used as artifact of the web, and where: with raymond fielding in hill top road in mag 59 - recluse:

On Sunday evenings, however, we’d all gather for the evening meal, and before we sat down to eat, he would remove the bright white tablecloth that covered it, and we’d gather around the dark wood. I remember it was carved in all sorts of strange swirling designs and patterns. It felt like if you picked a line, any line, you could follow it through to the center, to some deep truth, if only your eye could keep track of the strands that had caught it.

it was while i was checking the transcripts to find the above quote that i also remembered the hole in center of the table that the web pattern leads towards wasn’t always empty - it used to contain a box, and that box contained an apple.

again from again from mag 59:

The center of the table looked, at first, like it was simply part of the wooden top, but if you looked closely, as I did so often, you could see an outline marking the very middle as a small, square box, carved with patterns just like the ones that laced their way over the rest of the table. I don’t remember how long we sat around the table those evenings, nor do I have any memory of what we might have eaten.

...

I reached over and pulled the wooden square from the center of the table. On its own, it appeared to be a small wooden box, and the lid opened smoothly, as my hands moved in a practiced motion. Inside was an apple, green and fresh and still wet with morning dew.

I knew I was going to eat it. I could feel tears desperately trying to push themselves out of my eyes, but I instead decided not to cry. I placed the box down on the table, reached over, and picked up the apple.

the box from the center of the table makes its first appearance in the very first hill top road statement, mag 8 - burned out, where we learn that apparently the apple was full of spiders. 

considering the web’s predilection for filling it’s victim’s bodies with spiders (carlos vittery, annabell cane, the spider husks trevor encountered, the victim of the chelicerae website, the old woman in annabell’s statement, francis, etc.) i think this goes a ways to explain what happened to raymond’s other victims, and what would have happened to mag 59′s statement giver if he’d bitten into the apple:

They lay still now, wrapped in their sticky cocoons. Their bodies seemed warped and bloated in a way I didn’t recognize. But that’s only because at that point in my life, I had never before seen a spider egg sac.

more importantly though, we also learn that the box was buried under the burnt up tree in hill top road’s garden, the one whose uprooting was implied to be linked to agnes’s death: 

STATEMENT

At that moment I made my decision. It was easy, like destroying this tree was the only thing to do, the only path to follow ... When the tree lay on its side, uprooted and powerless, I gazed into the hole where it had sat and noticed something lying there in the dirt.

Climbing down, I retrieved what turned out to be a small wooden box, about six inches square, with an intricate pattern carved along the outside. Engraved lines covered it, warping and weaving together, making it hard to look away.

...

ARCHIVIST

Except… We cannot prove any connection, but Martin unearthed a report on an Agnes Montague, who was found dead in her Sheffield flat on the evening of November 23rd 2006, the same day Mr. Lensik claims to have uprooted the tree.

and keep in mind that the only reason the statement giver in mag 59 didn’t eat the apple, didn’t succumb to the web... was agnes’s kiss:

As the man in the suit told me to follow him in a clipped BBC accent, Agnes walked over, and gestured for me to lean down and listen to her. I did so, but instead of a conspiratorial whisper, she just gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, then ran off down the hall.

...

All at once, my cheek erupted in pain. It was like someone had pressed a hot branding iron into my face, and I could swear that I heard the flesh sizzle as I let out a scream and fell to my knees. I raised my hands to my face and realized in that moment two very important things. The first is that my face seemed to be untouched; I could feel no injury or burn. The second was that raising my hand had been a truly voluntary act. I had willed it myself, and whatever power had been gripping me, tugging me into its web, I was free of it.

at this point you’re probably wondering why i think all this is relevant in terms of what might happen with hill top road, and i have two potential ideas: 

my first idea has to do with the theory that agnes is lingering on as a ghost. this theory isn’t mine, i first encountered it shortly after mag 167 - curiosity aired through this post’s attempt to fix what bits of the timeline were thrown out of wack by the new info. if anyone has any other posts or general thoughts about this theory feel free to share them, i’d love to read them!

this theory is relevant to my speculation that agnes might finally make an appearance because she might have been the ghost seen by one of the statement givers in mag 100 - i guess you had to be there:

MARTIN

Right. Right.

[THROAT CLEARING]

Statement of Lynne Hammond, er, recorded 2nd of May 2017, regarding…

Uh, what, what’s this one about?

LYNNE

I saw a ghost.

MARTIN

O-kay.. Regarding a… a ghost. Statement begins.

who appeared as one of the cultists in mag 190 - scavengers: 

MARTIN

[Puzzled] Celia?

CELIA

Probably. The, um… place I was trapped in, they took my name. I never got it back. But I like Celia, so… yeah! Celia it is.

MARTIN

Uh… H-Hello… Celia.

and was recognized and directly confirmed to be the same person by martin in mag 191 - what we lose:

MARTIN

…

Hey, I meant to ask. Do you recognise that woman, Celia?

ARCHIVIST

Um… no, I, I don’t think so. Why?

MARTIN

I’d swear she gave a statement once.

having her only pop up in mag 190 would have just been a fun easter egg, but having martin directly call out her presence the next episode sounds to me like jonny telling the audience to pay attention, to remember that her statement had to do with the ghost of a young woman on fire who might have been agnes. 

my second idea involves web lighter.

over various statements throughout the previous four seasons we’ve been shown that the web and the desolation have been at war, and hill top road has been their battlefield. the best examples of this come from mag 139 - chosen and mag 149 - infectious doubts respectively. 

on the one hand we have agnes being planted in hill top road by the cult of the lightless flame in an effort to both control her powers and derail the web’s plans, which seems to begin the conflict:

The compromise we came to was Hill Top Road. We knew it was a stronghold of the Web, full of other children Agnes’ age. We would supervise from a distance, but were confident she would be in no danger. The Mother of Puppets has always suffered at our hand; all the manipulation and subtle venom in the world means nothing against a pure and unrestrained force of destruction and ruin.

and on the other we have the web binding gertrude to agnes, thus thwarting the desolation’s ritual, which also involved hill top road:

ARTHUR

Alright. Agnes. How’d you do it? Never did understand it, not really.

GERTRUDE

Ah. That’s a fair enough question. It was the Web. I didn’t know it at the time, of course, and I would call it an accident, but it never is, with them. It’s only after the fact that you can see all the subtle manipulations

... 

So, I began researching what I thought was a counter-ritual of sorts. Like I said, I was young, naive. I somehow found just the right books, made just the right connections, and even got what I thought was a piece of blind good luck when I found a tin box in the ashes of Hill Top Road, containing some perfectly preserved cuttings of her hair.

wouldn’t it seem symbolic, fitting with the dream logic we’ve been working with all season (and that the fears have always tended to work with), if what ended the metaphysical war was an artifact touched by both the web and the desolation? 

say perhaps... a device that creates fire while being marked by a symbol of the spider? one that just so happened to be delivered to the institute at the same time as a certain table?

TIM

Er, what is it?

ARCHIVIST

A lighter. An old Zippo.

TIM

You smoke?

ARCHIVIST

No. And I don’t allow ignition sources in my archive!

TIM

Okay. Is there anything unusual about it?

ARCHIVIST

Not really. Just a sort of spider web design on the front. Doesn’t mean anything to me. You?

TIM

Ah no. No.

ARCHIVIST

Well… show it to the others, see what they think. You said there was something else as well?

TIM

Oh, ah yes, yeah, it was sent straight to the Artefact Storage, a table of some sort. Ah, looks old. Quite pretty, though. Fascinating design on it.

all signs point to the best hope of escaping whatever plans the web has for jon lying with the desolation, or at least with fire, and who should be waiting in hill top road than someone who’s been known to burn statements in the past... and someone who, as of mag 162 - a cozy cabin, was the last person to mention the lighter: 

MARTIN

So, should we destroy it? Before we go?

[THE CABIN CREAKS VERY LOUDLY.]

ARCHIVIST

I honestly don’t know if we can.

[HE SIGHS.]

MARTIN

Mm.

ARCHIVIST

Besides, there’s – far worse out there. Better to try and avoid it, I think.

MARTIN

We’re not even gonna try? Look, we’ve got your lighter; maybe if we just –

i haven’t even begun to touch on the multiple instances of spiral marked individuals interacting with hill top road, or the potential role of the rift leading from the world without the institute to the reality with the institute from mag 114 - cracked foundations, or the foreshadowing we’ve gotten throughout this season that the archive might be destroyed by fire and how it’s looking more and more like that means jon might die, or the significance of the tapes and what power might be behind them...

but it’s nearing five in the morning where i am and i’ve been working on this frankly gargantuan post since about midnight, so i’m going to let more meta-inclined minds take it from here. tell me what you think! where do you agree with me, where do you think i’ve gone astray? hell, tell me if you think i’m just spinning my wheels, this is the first real theory post i’ve ever made so i might be completely off base, at least i tried lol.

tl;dr: 

the call back to the imagery surrounding the web table and its long history with hill top road and the desolation is leading me to believe that whatever plans the web has in hill top road for jon, fire is going to have a significant role in whether or not the web gets what it wants; either agnes herself might finally make an appearance or the web lighter might finally come into play.

[queenofbaws]

So I know that (starve) sundays are over now (which is a sadder thought than I would like to admit lol), but if you wouldn't mind doing just one more prompt for it I would love you forever and ever. Just, can I get a snapshot of that hive mind goodness of the five kids at some point during that story? Realizing that the fresh meat on the mountain is their parents, the fight that obviously would have taken place after Chris dragged Hannah off, someone just being done with Josh's theatrics with the dolls, anything? Please?

She noticed first because She always noticed first - She’d been on the mountain for longer than all of them, any of them, everyone and everything, as though a part of Her had been hewn from the rock itself back before time meant anything - and that sense of knowing, capital-k and otherwise, started with Her and rippled out, out, outward like a breeze through grass.

It was the lodge, of course it was the lodge, it was the lodge because something about that place was a magnet; it had drawn them in once upon a time, and now it drew in others, slower now than before, but like gnats to nectar they always seemed to find their way back to poke and prod and whisper about the ghosts that still clung to the ribs of that burnt-out husk...if only they knew.

she would have to stop Her, watch Her, pull Her back, some part of her long-lost self still holding fast to the idea She ate too much, killed too much, and the more people who were swallowed by the mountain, the higher the risk of worse coming to take their place. The others tamped down the worry of another (a new) hunter laying traps, but the others didn’t spend any time with Her outside of their heads and their lungs - they never had and never would and if Beth had still been there she would’ve agreed a hundred times over - they didn’t know the depths of Her angerhatefuryhungerreach.

So when the shapes limping their way to the lodge (not wounded but old, weak and soft and smelling like sunny Sunday mornings) awoke a spark of recognition, of nostalgia, of a different sort of Knowing entirely, it came with a flicker of something else, something she hadn’t known since her thoughts had been her own: Fear.

Because She noticed first, but She didn’t know them.

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

[sknnymnne]

drowning (spencer reid x reader) part 1

summary: y/n mourns the loss of her best friend, spencer reid, reminiscing about how she always wished that they were something more. however, a case in las vegas reveals some disturbing information, causing y/n to rethink some things.

a/n: this is my first fic ever! i have some past writing experience, so hopefully this isn’t horrible. please give me constructive criticism, and let me know how i can improve :). i hope you enjoy! you can read part two here. (p.s., let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!)

...............................................................................

spencer’s death left a gaping hole in everyone’s heart. especially mine.

i was definitely a lot quieter. this grim attitude seemed to cloud over me, never fading. of course, i was constantly on the brink of tears, inches away from exploding from the pain that spencer’s passing caused. weeks after his funeral, my eyes remained glassy.

i wore spencer’s scarf every day, without fail. it didn’t matter if the purple fabric clashed with my outfit, or if it were 80 degrees outside. it was his favorite, and it had become mine too.

everyone had noticed my change in behavior. the glimmer in my eyes wasn’t there anymore, the glimmer of hope, life. i felt like an empty husk, walking around preforming my daily tasks on autopilot, just waiting for my best friend to knock on the apartment door.

spencer and i had clicked the day they met. four years, seven weeks, and two days ago. from the day we met, i had always wanted to be more than friends. however, spencer and his friendship was too valuable a thing to risk. so, i buried my feelings deep inside. stayed a respectable distance away from him on the couch. didn’t run my hands through his curls, didn’t wipe away his tears. my god, did i long for more. longed to say the words left unsaid, the ones spencer would never hear leave my lips.

“i love you.”

god, i wanted to love him in many ways, of course. i wanted to watch doctor who with him, laugh about inside jokes, learn new things together. pepper his face with kisses, hug him after a long case, lean my head on his shoulder on our way home.

at this point, none of these would exist in the real world. in the dream world, sure, but spencer would never come back. he would never walk through the elevator doors with a cup of coffee. he would never again come over to watch obscure german films. we would never split the last chocolate sprinkled donut. gone were the days of greeting him every morning, talking about each other’s weekends. it was all gone too soon. so fast.

i was drowning, and i was going down fast. grief was gripping me by the hips and pulling me into a state of ever growing darkness. there was nothing to grab onto. i didn’t know if i would ever be able to crawl back out.

...............................................................................

the first day back after his death was grim. as we reviewed the case file, a part of us waited for spencer’s excited voice to interject with a fact or statistic about serial killers. however, the room was filled with a mournful silence, accompanied by everyone’s eyes gravitating towards spencer’s empty chair.

“wheels up in 30.” hotch managed to whisper.

as we somberly packed their items, everyone seemed to be looking at spencer’s desk, his TARDIS mug still sitting in the corner. it was just the way he had left it. of course, i put on his scarf before heading over to the jet.

the case went by in a blur. nothing felt real anymore. it still didn’t make sense that spencer was gone. forever. they caught the unsub, sure, but that wasn’t nearly enough for me. all i could think about was spencer, how much i missed him, and how he died.

...............................................................................

spencer passed away on a sunday. ironically, the day of rest wasn’t relaxing in the slightest. it started when he began receiving fan mail from a “kathryn snow” in connecticut. she was just a curious college student full of questions, and spencer was more than happy to answer all of them. it was adorable seeing him so excited about helping someone.

eventually, it turned out that “kathryn snow” was actually “bryan evans,” and that bryan had an extreme obsession with spencer.

spencer’s life truly ended when he was kidnapped by bryan. bryan had tortured him, and just before we arrived, had tried to kill himself and spencer, ultimately failing at both. however, the damage to spencer was done. seeing him beaten and bruised like that it something i’ll never forget.

bryan was arrested, but escaped when he was being transferred to prison. every day, it killed me that spencer’s murderer was still out there.

spencer died on the way to the hospital.

we never saw his body.

...............................................................................

present day.

...............................................................................

“hey, y/n,” jj gave me a slight smile as she entered the elevator.

“hi,” i murmured.

“are you okay?” she rested a loving hand on my shoulder, her eyebrows knitted in concern.

“i’m fine,” i replied. “seriously”

“y/n, you know that’s not true.” she replied. “come on, tell me what’s wrong. please?”

jj always meant well, but i couldn’t bring myself to tell her about what had been going on. the nightmares had returned. of course i knew it was ridiculous to cope through them alone, and that they could compromise my skills at the BAU, but i just couldn’t talk about it. not now, at least. i was still drowning, and i was getting too deep.

“i’ll tell you about it later,” i managed to give her a small smile. “i just don’t want to talk about it at work.”

“okay.” she returned my smile, but i could still see the motherly concern in her eyes. “just tell me when you’re ready and i’ll be here.”

the elevator dinged as we reached the floor that the BAU was on, and we began to walk through the glass doors together. however, i stopped dead in my tracks when i saw spencer’s desk and felt my heart drop.

“what is it?” jj asked.

“his mug..” i mumbled. “it’s gone.”

ever since the day spencer died, i had made sure that nobody touched that mug. it had stayed in the same place on his desk for the past three weeks, collecting dust. it was somewhat comforting, knowing that would always be the same.

however, that comfort’s disappeared.

“i’m sure someone just moved it to the kitchen,” she tried to reassure me. “we’ll get it back, don’t worry.”

i knew that it was irrational to expect that no one would move the mug someday. an intern, and unsuspecting colleague. it was also irrational to think that spencer’s desk would always be spencer’s desk. someone else would sit there soon, with their own coffee cup. there was nothing i could do about it.

hotch breezed past jj and i.

“we’ve got a case.”

as we always did, we all sat at the round table, leaving spencer’s seat empty. it was a constant reminder of how easy it was to lose each other.

“four men in las vegas have been brutally tortured and murdered.” garcia winced as she showed the crime scene photos. “physically, they all appeared similar. it seems like our unsub has a pretty specific type.” she attempted to joke.

however, i couldn’t help but notice how familiar the torture was on each of the victims. the scratches, the cuts, the-

spencer.

“it’s bryan.” i blurted.

“what?” hotch furrowed his eyebrows

“look, the wounds are almost identical to spencer’s.” the words seemed to spill out of me. “we know that evans is meticulous, and the victims could be surrogates for spence.”

emily and jj both looked at me with that unintentional condescending concern.

“if you’re right, y/n, we need to get there asap.” hotch replied. “wheels up in 20.”

...............................................................................

we arrived in las vegas, and confirmed that my suspicions were indeed correct. it was bryan.

“it doesn’t make sense that evans would start killing just after he escaped.” derek mused. “he’s smart. he would know that we would learn about it and find him.”

“maybe,” rossi said, ”that’s what he wants.”

“what if it’s a trap?” i asked. “it’s definitely possible that he’d want us now that he got spencer.” i choked on spencer’s name.

“or he has reid and he wants us to know.” hotch appeared in the doorway of the conference room.

“what?” my voice shook. no. no no no. spencer was dead. he couldn’t be alive. he died in the ambulance.

we never saw his body.

we never saw his body.

“the emts who took him to the hospital,” rossi was just as shocked as i was. “were they even certified? did we even check?”

“two unsubs,” derek “evans, and another one in there with reid.”

“is he even dead?”

those last four words seemed to echo endlessly through my body. had this bastard had my best friend for three weeks, and i didn’t even know? had all my mourning been for nothing? was spencer even alive, or was i just getting my hopes up?

is he even dead?

god, i hope not.

[nightingiall]

things i love about you: our rituals

a post-little do you know drabble series // story page

happy december! today marks six (!!!!!!) years since i started the december drabbles, which means it’s moniall’s anniversary! to commemorate the occasion, here’s a special lil something. also, if you want to relive my bad 2014 writing the drabbles that started it all, i will finally be posting them on wattpad. enjoy!

There used to be a time Mona hated the cold.

She couldn’t handle it. It made her feel like all her blood vessels had simply seized, wound up so tightly that she needed to find every single bit of warmth to bury herself under in order to feel like she could function again.

As she watched the tiny flurries of white drift from the sky to delicately blanket the ground in a layer of snow, she smiled to herself, remembering the first time they were here at their little cabin. It was the beginning of so much, of friendship, of love, of rituals they could seek solace in year after year. Four bedrooms, a generously sized dining room, and a roaring fireplace had somehow transformed from a simple husk of wood to a safe place, a home away from home, filled with laughter and jokes no one else would understand.

The snow picked up slightly, very quickly covering the driveway in white, and she realized that she no longer minded the cold. Not when she had this, a winter cabin filled with all the people she loved. There were even several new additions to the family, one of whom now pawed happily at her feet. She scooped the little fluffball into her arms, cradling it like a small child. “Hi, baby,” she cooed, holding the puppy up to see out the window. “Have you ever seen snow before?”

They certainly hadn’t gotten any in the city. And this sweet little pup was only a baby. Mona figured snow must be a new concept to her. She wondered if she’d like to trot around in the white slush tomorrow morning.

Niall had gotten the puppy as a surprise.

They’d arrived back from San Francisco for only a week before it happened. He had it all planned out. It was a Sunday afternoon. They’d devoured their dinner, a bottle of wine popped open, and the radio was turned to a blues station. Mona was washing up their plates in the sink when Niall had slinked up behind her, hands curled easily around her hips as he pressed his warm lips to her shoulder. “I got something for us,” he’d murmured into her hair, his voice that raspy sort of sweetness he took up when he was up to something.

She hummed, his voice a delicious vibrato down her spine. “What?”

When she’d placed the last plate in the dish rack and dried her hands on a towel, he spun her around, hands still a warm weight on her skin. The sun had already started to slink down the horizon, catching on adjacent buildings and throwing warm golden light into their apartment through the kitchen window. Niall’s eyes glimmered with it, bright blue meshing with rich gold sunlight. He was grinning widely at her in that irresistible way of his, and she let herself get whisked along with his excitement. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Okay,” she laughed, because he’d started to tug her towards the front entrance, just as the doorbell chimed. “But what is it.”

He instructed her to open the door and she eyed him suspiciously. “I promise you’re going to adore it!”

With an exasperated sigh, she did as she was told, fingers trembling slightly in anticipation. Waiting outside the door in a chestnut brown wicker basket lined with a soft white fleece blanket was the tiny little pup. Its fur matched the basket, a curly, chocolaty brown, and it was adorably nestled into itself as it slumbered peacefully.

Mona couldn’t help the way she had gasped, hands over her mouth in pure shock. “Is it ours?”

Niall was already smiling when she looked at him. “Yep. All ours.”

The excitement rushed through her like a tsunami, like champagne bubbles gushing when the bottle is opened. She almost wanted to scream but settled for a squeal instead, hopping slightly on her toes before just jumping into Niall’s arms. He laughed as she thanked him profusely, holding her close. She’d been planting the idea of getting a puppy for ages and she honestly didn’t even think he’d been considering it.

As they brought the little ball of cuteness inside, he explained that Duncan’s neighbor’s labradoodle had given birth. They’d taken them all to the vet to get checked and had been looking to give some of them away. This one was female. Like magic, “A Sunday Kind of Love” played softly on the radio, and they decided to name their newest addition to the family Etta.

“What’re you doing?” Niall was asking her now, where she was still standing in front of the window, watching the snow cover the earth.

She shrugged, still cradling the pup. “Etta’s never seen snow.”

He laughed as he leaned against the kitchen doorframe, cheeks flushed with that gorgeous pink that came from gut-busting laughter and too much whiskey. Behind him, the living room was quiet. Everyone else had probably ambled up to bed. She didn’t particularly care. It meant she got this moment all to herself, watching Niall stand there, looking soft and warm in his gray sweats and ugly Christmas sweater. She let Etta run off as she took him in, the light behind him fanning out around his head like a halo, blue eyes watching her with the world of love.

She crossed her arms as she leaned back against the countertop on the far side of the kitchen. “Did you stand there on purpose?”

He was grinning wildly, hands shoved into his pockets. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Really?” She raised a brow. “So you don’t always stand under that very doorframe every year just to get a mistletoe kiss?”

He looked up, feigning shock at the unmistakable plant dangling from the wood. “Mistletoe? I didn’t even notice it there.”

A laugh bubbled out of her, and she couldn’t help herself. She was drawn to him as always, feet pulling her towards him until she was close enough to wrap her arms around his waist, close enough to graze the corner of his mouth with her lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she murmured, blood rushing at the way his breath audibly caught in his throat, his hands pressing hard into her hips. “You’ll be scamming me into these mistletoe kisses until you’re old and wrinkly.”

A grunt sounded from deep in his throat when she pressed closer, still not meeting his lips. “If the implication is that you’ll be the one to kiss me under the mistletoe when I’m old and wrinkly then yes I damn will.”

When she finally let him catch her lips with his, it was like the world fell away. Big bursts of color flashed behind her closed eyelids as he kissed her, slow and searing, arms wrapping around her waist tightly until her feet were swept right off the ground when he straightened. She giggled into his mouth when he started walking towards the living room, her feet dangling helplessly until he finally put her down in front of the couch.

“Home Alone is on,” he said breathlessly, still stealing short kisses on any bits of skin he could find. “Wanna watch?”

She huffed on a laugh. “Are you sure we’ll just watch?”

At this, he laughed too, pulling away completely. “Dunno if I can make that promise, my darlin’,” he teased, sending her a wink before retrieving a basket that was hidden under the dining table. It was only now that Mona noticed he’d moved the coffee table, spreading a sheet in the space between the couch and TV.

“What’s all this?” she asked, taken by surprise.

Niall shrugged, placing the basket down on the sheet and sitting down, tugging on her hand to do the same. “Just…something.”

Inside the basket was a loaf of the homemade bread they’d made today—still a bit warm in its paper bag—cartons of butter and jellies, a thermos, and a platter of chocolate chip cookies. Apparently, he’d put it all together when no one was watching. Her heart surged with affection for all the thought he put into everything.

They lounged about, ripping pieces of bread and pairing it with butter or jelly, sipping on hot chocolate, which was what was in the thermos. They alternated between watching the movie and watching Etta and Fudge, Harlow’s cat, prod at each other. Etta just wanted to be a friend to Fudge, who was not having it, which was quite amusing.

By the time they finished the bread, they didn’t have much room for the cookies, so they split one as they curled into each other, lounging back against the couch, laughing along to the movie. “I love you,” she murmured to him eventually, pressing a kiss to his chin because she felt so full with emotion, so much that she felt like she might just burst. They were here, in the cabin, where it all began. So much was different. And everything was just right.

Which was why, in hindsight, she probably should have expected it. The circumstances were just right, everything falling into place perfectly. She should have expected it, but she didn’t.

Because when she placed a half-asleep Etta into her makeshift bed and turned around, Niall kneeling on one knee, hands outstretched, holding a ring box, was not a sight she saw coming. Her heart stopped for a moment, eyes widened in complete shock. He hadn’t even said anything yet and she already thought she might cry.

“Mona,” he started, clearly fighting back a slew of emotions himself, “Erm, I’ll be honest, I had a whole speech planned, but my brain has just gone completely blank.” They both laughed thickly. Mona stepped closer. “That happens sometimes anyway, when it comes to you. Sometimes you look at me and I forget my own name. In fact, the first time you smiled at me, I tripped on a branch. Remember?”

She nodded, unable to form words at the moment. She remembered. It was college orientation. She had hardly known that in a few months, she’d fall in love with this boy in a log cabin and her life would change forever.

Niall took a deep breath. “The point is, I am head over heels in love with you. Everything just makes sense with you, and I have never met anyone who is perfect for me in every single way.” An inadvertent sob left her lips, just as she noticed his voice wavering. “I want to spend forever with you, doing everything and nothing, though good days and bad days. I love you so fucking much. And it would be the greatest honor of my life to be your husband.” He smiled, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “So, what d’you say…will you marry me?”

Mona sobbed through her laughter, kneeling on the ground in front of him, caressing his face in her hands and swiping away the tears that managed to slip through his lashline. “Yes. Yes, I would love nothing more. Yes yes yes.” Niall laughed and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight and slipping the ring onto her finger at the same time. “I love you,” she cried into the curve of his shoulder, completely overwhelmed and yet completely at peace. All she wanted was to spend her whole life with her wonderful, beautiful sunshine boy.

It wasn’t until they both calmed down a bit that she got a good look at the ring. And even through her fuzzy eyesight, blurred by her tears, she recognized that opal stone, surrounded by tiny diamonds, as the one her mother wore for years. She had always admired it when she was a kid, always thought it was a timeless piece of jewelry.

She glanced up at him. “Is this…”

“Yeah.” He trailed a finger over the stone, holding her fingers delicately in his.

She was starting to cry again. “Mom gave it to you?”

He brushed away some of her hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. “Yeah. She said you like it, having something your dad picked out.”

Her eyes welled with tears as she hiccupped slightly in her surprise. Of course. Because along with being her mom’s, opal was also her dad’s birthstone. There was a piece of him inside of this ring and she now had the privilege of carrying it around forever. Niall thumbed away her tears and she looked at him, her heart fit to bursting as she wrapped her arms around him again, her movements so intense that he fell backwards against the sheet.

Their quiet laughter filled the room, and when she pulled back, his face was filled with such adoration, such reverence, that she found herself leaning forward to kiss him tenderly. His love spilled from his lips and into her soul. He filled her with sunshine and loved her unconditionally. Sweet, wonderful Niall. He was hers.

All hers.

~

Mona was flipping a pancake when Niall strolled into the kitchen, all soft smiles and sleepy eyes and messy bedroom hair. He huffed out a laugh at the sight of her, probably because of what she was wearing. His ugly Christmas sweater from the night before.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mumbled, as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, fingers trailing on the hem of the sweater, grazing her skin underneath. “How does this look better on you than it ever did on me?”

She giggled at his words. She felt as though she were on cloud nine, woke up with a smile and couldn’t seem to shake it. Every so often, she’d catch a glimpse of the ring on her left hand and grin wildly to herself, sometimes wondering if she’d simply dreamt the whole night up.

But, no, she hadn’t. Because Niall was sidled up to her, chest pressed against her back as he pressed slow and hot kisses all the way up the side of her neck and down her jawline. “Good mornin’, fiancée,” he murmured, smiling wide against her skin.

She flipped her last pancake onto the platter and turned the skillet off, turning towards him to wrap her arms across his shoulders. “Good morning, future husband,” she replied, melting right into him as he kissed her slow and deep, goosebumps rippling across her skin at the words. It all felt a bit surreal.

He hummed, pressing her against the fridge, skimming his tongue along her lower lip. “I love the sound of that.”

They kept the news from their friends for a whole day. There was something fun and whimsical about it, going about their day doing mundane things with everyone, like eating breakfast or bringing Etta out into the snow for the first time, catching knowing looks from each other because no one else knew what had happened the night before. It was nice to be able to soak it all in, to enjoy it for themselves for a while, without anyone knowing.

Finally, on Christmas morning, as everyone lounged about on the couch, opening presents, they spilled. Niall was the one to announce it, telling everyone that they had news to share and pretending to be somber and melancholy. Harlow, Zayn, Liam, and Harry all froze hilariously when they caught the sudden shift in the mood, all of them sitting down and eyeing Niall and Mona carefully.

Harry was the one to ask what was wrong, and he looked so concerned that Mona couldn’t help the way the laughter just bubbled out of her. She looked at Niall, who’d started to laugh too, before holding up her left hand, the opal gem catching the light and glittering.

“We’re getting married!” they said simultaneously, and everyone was stunned into a few moments of silence before erupting into a deafening round of cheers. Harlow started crying as she hugged Mona tightly, and even the boys started tearing up a bit.

Perhaps it had been a long time coming. But it didn’t matter.

They were here now, endlessly overjoyed, popping open a bottle of champagne to celebrate.

They were here now, and they had the rest of their lives to go.

[simsadventures]

Only Mine: Chapter 11: Night Out

Summary: Attending a ball with Bucky as his official girlfriend is a big deal for you, and you try to prepare accordingly. Meanwhile, Bucky tries to determine the actions of his enemies.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex (nothing graphic here), mobster AU, swearing, angst

Word Count: 3035

A/N: Who’s excited for this? Because I definitely am! Reader’s dress are showcased in the moodboard, for anyone interested, but feel free to imagine any dress you like. It’s your story after all! FEEDBACK is gold my people, so please, please let me know what you all thought of this chapter. Lots of love!! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

Waking up, you felt butterflies in your stomach. Well, it actually felt more like a bunch of bats were trying to tear you from the inside, trying to get away, but that didn’t sound so romantic, so when Nat asked you how you were feeling, you told her the butterfly version.

It was Friday morning, and even though you had to go to work, you couldn’t care less about that. Tonight was the night when you’d finally be introduced as Bucky’s girlfriend to more than his closest men and family. And as much as you were nervous about the whole thing, you couldn’t help yourself to feel excited as well.  

You knew that the Bucky you’d see in the evening would be a very different version to what you were used to, but you also realised that if this relationship was gonna work, you’d have to get used to even to his official mobster persona. You told him like a million times during the week, that if he treated you like one of your bitches, he’d regret it. Greatly.

And despite him being the actually dangerous one in the relationship, you heard him gulp through the phone, and he just husked out a simple understood, which made you smirk in return. This big mafia boss was yours, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

True, you two didn’t have any conversation regarding your feelings, but if tonight went well, you were determined to tell him how you felt about him. You weren’t able to hide it any longer. Every second you spent with Bucky convinced you that you were doing the right thing, letting him have your heart. As cautious as you were during the very beginnings of your relationship, none of it bothered you now. Every day, Bucky proved to you just how much you meant to him, even if the actual words never left his mouth.

Work was torture because all you could think of was your beautiful dress awaiting you at home, the wonders that Nat could do with your make-up, and the moment you finally was with Bucky again. He has been busy the whole week, only managing to visit you once, for a brief talk before you fell asleep, completely exhausted. You knew he was there with you until you fell asleep, drawing circles on your exposed back, humming compliments into your ear. You remembered thinking that you could get used to something like this every night because sleep always came easier when Bucky was there with you.

So when you finally escaped work, thinking about all those things that happened between you and Bucky, and about what was about to happen, you almost sprinted the whole way to your apartment. You felt like an idiot feeling so giddy about such thing, but you just couldn’t help yourself. Your man would be astounded by your appearance tonight, and you knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself.

—-

“What do you mean nobody saw him for the last 3 weeks?” Bucky’s voice boomed through his office, every man sitting there, shrinking further into their chairs. Bucky was furious, the vein on his forehead was ticking like a time bomb, ready to explode, his nostrils flaring like an angry lion. Even Sam and Steve were quiet, their heads bowed because they knew too well that were they to piss Bucky off at that particular moment, a bullet might be the next thing they saw.

As much as Bucky seemingly calmed down ever since you walked into his life, it didn’t seem to affect his work. He was as ruthless as ever, maybe even more, because now he had an actual person to protect from all the shit happening in the city.

And Pierce being underground didn’t seem like him, and it made chills run down Bucky’s spine. He needed to know where Pierce was at all times, and because his men forgot to mention that they couldn’t find him for the good part of the month, Bucky was ready to explode.

“Why the fuck is nobody speaking up? Didn’t I tell you that the second something changes with that motherfucker, you come right to me? Huh? Or are you idiots to fucking dumb to remember a simple task? I’m looking at you two shitheads, Rumlow, Johnson. I thought you were assigned to his case!”

The two men still didn’t look at Bucky, probably not even breathing in fear it would make Bucky snap.

“I expect answers!” Bucky yelled, and he saw Peter flinching from the corner of his eye. But he didn’t care, not at that moment. Somebody’s hurt feelings were the last of his worries, and if he had to, he would beat the information out of his own men.

“We thought he just had a vacation, or something, y’know?”

Boom.

A book that was laying on Bucky’s side of the table was sent flying across the room and landed with a loud thud.

“Vacation? You’ve got to be kidding me, Rumlow. For fuck’s sake. Dig deeper and fucking find him. And I’m telling you, if anybody crashes tonight’s party, heads will be chopped off. And I fucking mean it, so I advise everybody here to fucking do something about it. I want all the other guys at the ball too, I want everyone there in case Pierce decided to show up.”

Bucky yelled and left the room before he actually hurt somebody. Steve and Sam shared a look before they both got up from their chairs and followed Bucky outside. The rest of the men remained seated, waiting till they heard some door closing behind Bucky, so they could sneak out unwatched.

Bucky went outside to the porch, watching the trees move under the light breeze, trying to think of things to calm him down. He really didn’t want to have to kill anybody on his own team, but it was getting harder and harder to keep to that.

He knew Steve and Sam would come to talk to him, so it didn’t surprise him when he heard the door opening and closing and set of two boots strutting towards him.

“It’s probably nothing, Buck, and you know it. If the guys genuinely thought it was something, they would have told you. I bet they just didn’t want to disturb your honeymoon phase with Y/N. We all see how happy you are with her, and nobody wants to destroy that,” Steve said softly, patting Bucky on his shoulder.

Bucky sighed and closed his eyes. He knew Steve was probably right about the men, and definitely right about you. Just the thought of you laughing at something stupid he told you made a small smile creep to his cheeks. You’ve ruined him for any other woman, that was for sure. Maybe, you even ruined him for the line of work, people trying to protect him from any sort of information was not something that happened too often.

“I know, and all that’s nice, but when I give an order, I fucking expect people to follow it, and not think about my poor, poor heart. I’m the boss here, and something, I’ve the feeling people forget it.”

“Ha! Don’t worry, you instilled the fear of God in them a long time ago. Nobody doubts what you’re willing to do for the city, for your men. Trust me, man, if anything, they fear you even more, because everyone knows that were something to happen to Y/N, you’d probably murder half the city, including them,” Sam smiled at Bucky, patting his other shoulder.

Bucky nodded thankfully at both his friends, feeling better about himself and about the whole situation already. He huffed out a breath he was holding and let himself get excited about tonight. His birthday was on Sunday, but he wanted the ball to be on Friday, and the theme for this year was Hell. Simple but effective, Bucky thought, and he seriously couldn’t wait to see what you’d wear.

He wanted to buy you a dress, but you insisted on them being a surprise, and, honestly, Bucky wanted to be surprised by you and your beauty. The night couldn’t come soon enough for him.

—-

It was a surprise to find Peter standing in front of your door at 8 sharp, and even a bigger surprise was that Bucky wasn’t there with him. You scolded yourself inwardly because you knew it was his party and the host should probably be there for when all the guests arrived. Still. Your possessive ass wanted him for yourself, and it only now dawned on you that tonight would be the first night when you’d be with him, be he wouldn’t be entirely yours.

“You look exquisite, Y/N. Bucky is gonna faint when he sees you,” Peter interrupted your invasive thoughts, and you blushed slightly at his compliment. You looked him up and down, finding him dressed in a suit, looking sharp as hell.

“Well, you don’t look too bad yourself, Mr Handsome! All you mobster boys can dress up really nicely, Imma give you that,” you smirked at him, getting into the back of the car. You could see Peter blushing as well, and you had to chuckle. He really was too sweet for this life.

The car ride was filled with the two of you laughing like crazy people, him sharing some stories about his aunt May, while you told him what your younger twin-sisters did to prank you when they were little. You didn’t even realise you were driving so long when you suddenly saw a beautiful renaissance building in front of you, with red and black drapes hanging on the railings, giving the whole building a hellish look.

Bucky really did take the whole theme seriously, you thought as you got out of the car with Peter’s help.

You looked around the entrance, and could already see many people, standing there and chatting. Your eyes slid to the women, who were all scarcely dressed, all their dresses reminding you more of lingerie than an actual dress. You gulped and looked down at yourself, suddenly feeling weird in your silky red dress with tin straps and long slit. It was still a long dress, and you wished you wore something more revealing, doubting that Bucky would even spare you a glance in the vast amount of mini-dresses, where the women showed their panties without hesitation.

Peter saw your doubts, and he rushed to your side. He didn’t understand what was going on, but he wanted to make sure you were ok, nevertheless.

“He’s right inside, Y/N. C’mon, you look lovely, and I bet the big boss is anxiously awaiting your arrival.”

You scoffed and shook your head.

“Look around, Peter. Everyone looks much hotter than me and, let’s be honest, Bucky is more prone to look at the girls with their boobs spilling out of their dress than at me, barely showing anything other than a bit of cleavage and my leg. Ugh! I should’ve known that this was not a normal ball. Maybe I should’ve let Bucky buy me the damn dress, and he would actually like what he saw!”  

Peter squinted his eyes and then raised his eyebrow, unbelievingly.

“Wait a second. You think Bucky will be interested in anybody else than you? I meant it when I said you looked exquisite, and if you only gave Bucky the chance to actually tell you himself, maybe these idiotic doubts wouldn’t come to your mind,” Peter said with a smirk, proud that he could scold you like that without apologising.

You gaped at him slightly, before you blinked a few times and let him know that you were ready to walk into the lion’s den. You caught Peter’s elbow, not willing to face all those people alone, and he gladly let you use his arm as both physical and moral support.

You could feel people staring at you, some with curiosity, but most, and especially the women, with distrust and disdain. You pursed your lips even harder, not giving them the chance to talk to you because you needed to find your footing first. You needed to find Bucky to calm down. Or to tell you that you weren’t what he wanted and you could go home and cry.

Peter wasn’t really sure where his boss was, but he was determined to find him as soon as possible, preferably before you’ve had enough of your self-doubts and turned around to leave the party. From the very first second, Peter met you, he enjoyed your presence, around the mansion and around Bucky, and he was determined to keep you two together.

When he finally noticed three men, standing like they owned the place, and he noticed that the shapes of the heads matched heads of Bucky, Steve, and Sam, he quickened his pace, not realising that your high heels didn’t let you run around like him. He tapped Bucky’s shoulder, and for a second, he was scared of his boss because Bucky gave him a look that said how dare you to disturb me, but that quickly changed.

Bucky glanced at Peter with a snarky retort on his tongue, when he noticed somebody with their beauty beyond words gripping Peter’s arm and his heart skipped a beat.

You looked like a goddess, or the queen of hell, to be more precise. Your dress wasn’t as revealing as most of the women in the ballroom, but maybe that was why Bucky loved your dress even more. They hugged your curves perfectly, leaving little to the imagination as they accentuated your breasts and your hips with your ass, the slit on your leg revealing your perfect thigh to the world. And as happy as Bucky was to see you, he suddenly didn’t like that dress that much.

You watched as Bucky’s expression changed from bitchy to amazed, to angry in a few seconds, and the last look almost made you take a step back. Why he was angry, suddenly, was beyond you.

Bucky nodded at Peter, who then let go of your arm, and Bucky stood impossibly close to you, pressing his chest against you in a desperate hug.

“What do you think you’re wearing, doll?” He hissed into your ear, and you bowed your head, ashamed. You knew he’d be pissed because you didn’t show enough.

“I’m so sorry, James. I thought this was a ball as in a ball, but when I came and saw all the mini dresses all around, I felt like a fool. I still do. Maybe I can make Peter drive me to the closest mall, and I can get myself something shorter? Or maybe tighter? I know how much-“

“Shorter? Tighter? Have you lost your fucking mind? I thought you were revealing too much! Everyone can see your perfect body like that, and that body’s mine! I don’t want these sly men ogling what’s fucking mine!”

You frowned and pulled away from him slightly.

“What? Have you seen what the other women are wearing? I’m like the most modest person here, babe!”

“Yeah, but all these women are mostly sluts only here to try and get into our pants. And while I’d love you in my pants, I can’t stand the idea that other men are thinking the same fucking thing,” he growled and instinctively pulled you to him again. You let him and smirked into the crook of his neck. He still had eyes just for you.

“I’m yours, Mr Barnes. No need to be jealous. I don’t care what other people think as long as you’re not ogling other women,” he whispered into his ear, and it was now his turn to pull away, his mouth turned to an amused smirk.

“Other women? I don’t even fucking see other women, doll. I told you, you’re different, and you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

You giggled before he pulled you in a heated kiss, obviously laying claim on you, but you couldn’t care less. His claim on you meant that you had a claim on him, and so you happily obliged, hoping that all those bitches were watching you and understanding that your man was off-limits.

Bucky seemed to have read your mind because he gave you a knowing look and pecked your lips once again, before you started walking around the room, him talking to some important people, while you were standing by his side, calming him with your presence.

The whole night was rather pleasant, Bucky’s hand firmly placed on your hip, and whenever you had to go to the restroom, he would make Peter or Drax, or both take you there and back to him after. You wanted to fight him on this, but one stern look from him told you that this was not the place nor time when you should protest against his commands. So you always just rolled your eyes, inwardly, and let the guys take you to the restroom.

When you were back in Bucky’s arms, his shoulder lost the tension they had whenever you left his side. It was well after midnight, both you and Bucky had a glass of champagne in your hands, and you were stealing away a second for yourselves, having a hard time to keep your hands on your own bodies, when the other looked so delicious when you heard the first crash.

Bucky’s playful side was suddenly gone, and in was the sharp and concentrated man you remembered from the night of your attack. You exchanged a quick glance before you stepped into the room.

Another crash sounded, and you only then realised what it was. Gunshots. Somebody was shooting in the ballroom.

Before you knew what was happening, you were on the ground, panting heavily, and a pain shot through your whole body. This wasn’t happening.

It was only when you saw droplets of blood around you that you let the panic overwhelm you. You were under attack, and there was almost a zero chance that the two of you would make it out alive.

/ Next Chapter >

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[frmartinshomiliesandreflections]

21st March >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on John 12:20-33 for The Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle B:   ‘We would like to see Jesus’.

Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle B

Gospel (Except USA)

John 12:20-33

If a grain of wheat falls on the ground and dies, it yields a rich harvest

Among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. These approached Philip, who came from Bethsaida in Galilee, and put this request to him, ‘Sir, we should like to see Jesus.’ Philip went to tell Andrew, and Andrew and Philip together went to tell Jesus. Jesus replied to them:

‘Now the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. I tell you, most solemnly, unless a wheat grain falls on the ground and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies, it yields a rich harvest. Anyone who loves his life loses it; anyone who hates his life in this world will keep it for the eternal life. If a man serves me, he must follow me, wherever I am, my servant will be there too. If anyone serves me, my Father will honour him. Now my soul is troubled. What shall I say: Father, save me from this hour? But it was for this very reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name!’

A voice came from heaven, ‘I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.’ People standing by, who heard this, said it was a clap of thunder; others said, ‘It was an angel speaking to him.’ Jesus answered, ‘It was not for my sake that this voice came, but for yours.

‘Now sentence is being passed on this world; now the prince of this world is to be overthrown. And when I am lifted up from the earth, I shall draw all men to myself.’

By these words he indicated the kind of death he would die.

Gospel (USA)

John 12:20–33

If a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it produces much fruit.

Some Greeks who had come to worship at the Passover Feast came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and asked him, “Sir, we would like to see Jesus.” Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Amen, amen, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will preserve it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there also will my servant be. The Father will honor whoever serves me.

   “I am troubled now. Yet what should I say, ‘Father, save me from this hour’? But it was for this purpose that I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it and will glorify it again.” The crowd there heard it and said it was thunder; but others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” Jesus answered and said, “This voice did not come for my sake but for yours. Now is the time of judgment on this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself.” He said this indicating the kind of death he would die.

Reflections (6)

(i) Fifth Sunday of Lent

I came across a story in a book that caught my attention. A distinguished citizen came to a Zen Master, seeking the meaning of life. The visitor began to tell the Zen Master all about his ideas, his achievements, his interests. As he continued his hymn of praise to himself, the Zen Master graciously placed a beautiful cup in front of his guest and began filling it with tea. Even after the cup was filled, he continued to pour tea into it. The distinguished visitor quickly moved away from the overflowing cup, saying to the Zen Master, ‘The cup is overflowing! No more will go in!’ The Zen Master replied, ‘Like this cup, you are overflowing with your own opinions and achievements. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?’

The wisdom expressed in that story finds expression in our gospel reading today in a different form. Jesus proclaims the paradoxical wisdom of self-emptying in order to become full, of dying so that we may be raised to new life, ‘Unless a grain falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies it yields a rich harvest… Anyone who loves his life loses it; anyone who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life’. The language of hating our life in this world jars with us. Yet, it is a way of speaking for emphasis and is not to be taken literally. Elsewhere Jesus calls on us to love our neighbour as we love ourselves. There is a healthy, wholesome, love of self which is the foundation for the love of God and love of others. Jesus is warning against an excessive love of self, the kind of over-valuing of our achievements, our gifts and abilities, which stunts our growth as human beings made in God’s image and likeness.

When a grain of wheat is dropped into the earth, the seed shrinks, ‘empties’ itself and dies. Yet, in the warmth and moisture of the earth new life breaks out of the husk and yields a rich harvest. The grain of wheat is an image of Jesus. Saint Paul says of Jesus that he ‘emptied himself, taking the form of a servant’. He emptied himself in loving service of God and of humanity. He continued down this path of self-emptying love of others, even when it became clear that it would cost him his life. As Paul says, ‘he emptied himself… becoming obedient unto death, even death on a cross’. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus is aware that the hour is at hand when, like the grain of wheat, he will be buried in the heart of the earth. He stands to lose everything. It is clear from the gospel reading that the prospect of such loss troubles him deeply. He is tempted to pray, ‘Father, save me from this hour!’ Yet, he comes through this struggle and remains faithful to his love-inspired mission, like the good shepherd who loves his flock so deeply that he is prepared to lay down his life for them. His ultimate self-emptying on the cross yields a rich harvest. It reveals the depth of his love for us all and the extent of God the Father’s love for the world. In the light of the resurrection, the cross is seen to be an explosion of divine love, which is why Jesus can say in the gospel reading, ‘When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself’. As Jesus hung from the cross, Pilate declared him a king in mockery, ‘Jesus of Nazareth, king of the Jews’. Yet, this mocking title proclaimed a great truth. Jesus was a king, but his kingdom was not based on force of arms but on the drawing power of love. Jesus lifted up on the cross, lifted up in glory, continues to draw people to himself. In drawing us to himself, he draws us into a sharing in his own risen life. His dying was life-giving, not only for himself, but for all who turn to him in faith.

If the grain of wheat which falls to the ground and dies and in dying yields a rich harvest is an image of Jesus, it is also an image of his followers. ‘If anyone serves me, they must follow me’. Following the Lord will always involve an element of self-emptying, of dying to ourselves out of love for others. The image of the wheat grain invites us to ask, ‘What within me needs to die so that I may live more fully with the life of the Lord, so that I may love more fully with his love?’ For us as followers of the risen Lord, the moment of death is the final self-emptying that yields a rich harvest. It is the ultimate letting go that opens us up to a wonderful encounter with the Lord of love who finally and fully draws us to himself. As we journey towards that final moment of letting go, the Lord calls us daily to empty ourselves in love for others, to die to our self-centeredness in the service of the Lord and his people. As we respond to that call of the Lord, we will begin to experience something of that fullness of life which awaits us beyond death.

And/Or

(ii) Fifth Sunday of Lent

 Martin Luther King once wrote about a time when he knelt down in prayer at the kitchen table in his home in Alabama. A hail of stones had just come through the window because of his advocacy of civil rights for black people. His wife and children were in danger. He had already become a highly qualified academic by then, and a promising career lay ahead. In prayer he found himself asking, ‘Do I really need this additional worry and danger?’ It was in that prayerful moment that he decided to put the will of God and the welfare of others before his own security and that of his family. He chose to let go of an easier path in order to serve God by working on behalf of those who were most oppressed. In a sense, he chose to die so that others might have life. His life is a striking example of the image that Jesus uses in the gospel reading, the grain of wheat that falls into the ground and dies, and in dying yields a rich harvest.

 Jesus himself was the supreme expression of that image. He is the grain of wheat that falls to the ground and dies, and in dying yields a rich harvest. He refers to that harvest towards the end of today’s gospel reading: ‘When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself’. God worked powerfully through the life of Jesus, and God worked even more powerfully through the death of Jesus. Jesus’ death reveals the power of God’s love in an even fuller way than his life did, and this love, revealed in the death of Jesus, drew people to God, and continues to do so. Many people over the centuries, looking upon the crucifix, have experienced God’s love for them, and have found themselves drawn to God in some way, because of the crucifix. In choosing to accept the loss of so much that was dear to him, in particular, his vibrant life, Jesus drew people to himself and, thereby, to a sharing in God’s life. That moment in his life when Jesus chose such a significant loss out of love for us all is well expressed in this morning’s gospel reading, ‘What shall I say? Save me from this hour. No, it was for this very reason I have come to this hour’.

 In these spring days we may find ourselves sowing some seeds in the garden. The seed that dies in order to yield a new form of life is as familiar to us today as it was in the days of Jesus. The seed has to shed its husk so that the potential for new life it carries within itself can be realized. The loss of the husk is a necessary loss if the seed is to realize its destiny. This phenomenon of nature can speak to our own experience as much as it did to the experience of Jesus. Jesus recognized that the loss of his life was a necessary loss if he was to remain faithful to his mission, and, thereby, realize his destiny. Each of us in different ways can be called upon to choose some significant loss if we are to remain true to our deepest and best self, true to what God is asking of us. We can find ourselves at a crossroads, as Jesus did in the Garden of Gethsemane, as Martin Luther King did in the kitchen of his home. At such crossroads we can either choose some loss for the sake of a greater good, or hold on to some reality that is good in itself but that prevents us from taking the path that God is asking us to take, that others need us to take. There are many such crossroads on the journey of life. Whenever we choose some loss for ourselves so that others might live, we are following in the way of the Lord, and a harvest will come from it.

 Then there are other losses in life that we do not choose, but that are forced upon us. These are losses we have no choice but to accept. Jesus’ disciples had no choice but to accept the loss of Jesus on Good Friday; their loss flowed from the choice Jesus made. We often have to accept the loss of people we love and care about because of the choices they make. Parents may not wish to see a son or daughter go abroad to live and work, but they accept that as a necessary loss, because they respect the choice made by the one they love. Many of the necessary losses we have to accept in life arise from the choices others make. In accepting those losses, in letting go of those we love, we often find them again in a fuller and richer way, as Jesus’ disciples received him again in a richer way through his resurrection from the dead and the sending of the Spirit.

 There are other, more demanding, losses we do not choose but have no choice but to accept. The loss we experience because of the death of a loved one comes to mind. The acceptance of such a loss only comes with great struggle. Then, for each of us, there is the final and unavoidable struggle to let go of our own earthly lives, with all the loss that is entailed in that. As we face all these inevitable losses that are an integral part of life, we are strengthened by the words of Jesus in today’s gospel reading, ‘When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself’. We trust and we believe that, at the end of the day, after we have struggled with all our losses, the Lord will draw us to himself, and, when that happens, we will lack nothing.

And/Or

(iii) Fifth Sunday of Lent

 We can ourselves faced with the prospect of doing something which we know is worth doing but which we also know is going to make demands on us. Faced with that kind of a situation we can experience something of a struggle within us. In our heart of hearts we want to do this worthwhile task and, yet, at another level we do not want to do it. Invariably, if we overcome our resistance and follow through on our good intention, we will feel afterwards that we did the right thing. It is probably true to say that we experience that kind of a struggle several times a week. As well as those daily struggles that are part of life, we may find ourselves engaged in a more fundamental struggle, where the future direction of our lives is at stake. I am thinking of those moments in our lives when we have a really important decision to make, and how we make it has enormous consequences for ourselves and for others. The right decision can often be the more difficult one, and the struggle in making it can be great indeed.

 In today’s gospel reading we find Jesus in just such a significant moment of decision. The hour when he has to leave this world is drawing near. The journey from this world to the Father will be painful and traumatic. As he faces into this hour, he asks aloud the question, ‘What shall I say?’ There are two possible answers to that question. He could ask the Father to preserve him from the hour and all that it entails, ‘Father, save me from this hour’. Alternatively, he could ask the Father to be present to him as he heads into his hour. This in fact is the prayer he makes at this crucial moment in his life, ‘Father, glorify your name’. Rather than the focus of his prayer being on himself, ‘save me’, the focus of his prayer is on God, ‘glorify your name’. Rather than putting what he wants at the centre of his prayer, he puts what God wants to the fore. With the prayer, ‘Father, glorify your name’, Jesus commits himself anew to doing the work that the Father has given him, with all its consequences.

 That question of Jesus, ‘What shall I say?’ or some version of it can be a question that we find ourselves asking too. ‘What shall I do? What path will I take?’ Jesus took the path that God wanted him to take That path involved a dying but it was a path that was ultimately life-giving, not only for himself but for all humanity. In our own lives, taking the path that God would want us to take will often involve some kind of dying for us, such as dying to our own comfort and convenience, letting go of the plans that we have for ourselves. This can take very ordinary forms. We get a phone call from someone who needs to talk to us, just as we are about to sit down and watch our favourite television programme. Someone asks us to visit them, and the only opportunity we have for doing that is Saturday afternoon when we would normally take it easy. A call for help goes out in regard to some issue and we know that we have the time and the ability to respond, but we also know that if we do so it will make demands on us. The strong temptation is to pray, ‘Father, save me from this hour’, to try and preserve ourselves, to protect ourselves. Yet, today’s gospel makes a strong declaration that if we invest energy in trying to preserve ourselves, we will loose ourselves. ‘Anyone who loves his life looses it’. If, on the contrary, we give ourselves away, we will find life. It is the grain of wheat that falls to the earth and dies that bears much fruit.

 We are only a week away from Holy Week. During Holy Week we remember Jesus’ readiness to fall to the ground and die for our sakes. As we contemplate his dying for us, we may find ourselves drawn to him. Jesus says in today’s gospel reading, ‘when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself’. It is in allowing ourselves to be drawn to him that we will find the strength to take the path that he took, the path of self-giving that leads to fullness of life. It is only our union with Christ which will empower us to take this path. Every day we invite the Lord to draw us to himself, so that we too can become the grain that falls to the ground and dies, and in dying bears much fruit.

And/Or

(iv) Fifth Sunday of Lent

 The lead singer of a legendary pop group from the 60’s died a few years ago. The name of the group was the Monkies and they were big in the United States. Those of a certain age might remember them. They were probably as big in the US as the Beatles were in England. Both of those groups had and still have a huge following; at their peak they drew very large numbers of young people to themselves. There have been many other singing groups since then who drew large crowds of people whenever they performed. It is not only singing groups who draw crowds. Football teams draw huge crowds to their matches. Indeed many Irish people get on a plane early on Saturday morning to fly over to Liverpool, Manchester, Newcastle, London, or wherever to watch their favourite team. Huge crowds will be drawn to Croke Park in the coming months up to September to watch the championship matches in football and hurling. There have always been individuals and groups of people who have had the ability to draw large crowds.

 At the very end of this morning’s gospel reading Jesus says of himself, ‘when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself’. It is one of the sayings of Jesus in the gospels that has always struck me. Jesus speaks there of the drawing power he will have when he is lifted up from the earth. In John’s gospel, from which our gospel reading is taken, when Jesus speaks of himself as one who will be lifted up from the earth, he is referring to both his death and his resurrection and ascension. He will be lifted up on the cross and he will be lifted up in glory. In John’s gospel there is a sense in which both of those moments of lifting up are one moment. When Jesus is lifted up on the cross, he is at the same time being lifted up in glory, because on the cross Jesus reveals God’s glory, the glorious presence of God who is love. Jesus declares in our gospel reading that when he is lifted up from the earth, he will draw all people to himself. The drawing power of Jesus on the cross is the drawing power of a divine love. Authentic love always draws us; it attracts. There is no more authentic love than God’s love revealed in Jesus when he is lifted up on the cross and in glory. That is why the crucified and risen Jesus has been drawing people to himself for over two thousand years and will continue to do so for the next two thousand years. We are drawn to Jesus lifted up from the earth because we experience there a love which is stronger than sin and death, a love which assures us of our worth, and holds out to us an eternal destiny beyond death. If we allow that love to enter within us we will be inspired and empowered to love as we have been loved. Jesus lifted up from the earth, Jesus on the cross, has always drawn people of faith. The liturgies of Good Friday are always very well attended. It is not that as Christians we are in love with suffering. It is just that we sense that the lifting up of Jesus has in some profound sense lifted us all up.

 In this morning’s gospel reading Jesus speaks of his forthcoming death using a very different set of words to the language of being lifted up. He speaks of the grain of wheat which falls into the earth and dies and in dying yields a rich harvest. He himself was the grain of wheat which fell into the earth and died and his death yielded a rich harvest for all of us. We are all part of the harvest of his death. His death was life-giving for himself and for us all. That is why we find ourselves looking upon Jesus lifted up from the earth, on the cross and in glory. Later on in John’s gospel Jesus says of himself, ‘no one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends’. In being lifted up from the earth, Jesus was laying down his life for all of us, for each one of us; he was drawing us into his friendship. We look upon the cross because we sense that no one has ever befriended us or could ever befriend us in such a complete way. This is the harvest which has come from the grain of wheat falling to the ground and dying.

 This being lifted up from the earth, this falling to the ground and dying, did not come easy to Jesus. We can sense that from this morning’s gospel reading. ‘Now my soul is troubled’, he says, and he is tempted to pray, ‘Father, save me from this hour’. His love for us was a costly love. All authentic human love is costly. In giving ourselves away to another in love we leave ourselves vulnerable to suffering and brokenness. Yet, this is the path Jesus took; it is the path we are all called to take as his followers. In the words of the gospel reading, ‘if anyone serves me, he must follow me’. The path of self-emptying love is ultimately the path that leads to life, a full life here and now and eternal life beyond death.

And/Or

(v) Fifth Sunday of Lent

 We probably all have a wish list of things we would like to do before we die, or, perhaps people we would like to meet. If we were given a blank sheet of paper with the words ‘I wish...’ at the top and asked to fill it in, we would likely all come up with a different list, although there might be some elements in common. What we would have in common would probably be the more important, deeper, realities of life, such as health, peace of mind, loving relationships, happiness for oneself and one’s loved ones. As people of faith we might include on our blank page some expression of our religious longings. We might wish for a deeper experience of the Lord’s love and forgiveness in our lives or for greater clarity as to what the Lord is asking of us or desires for us.

 At the beginning of this morning’s gospel reading we are introduced to two people who approach one of the disciples of Jesus and express their wish in a very simple way, ‘We should like to see Jesus’. They are described as ‘Greeks’. In saying to Philip ‘We want to see Jesus’, they are giving expression to their deeper religious longings. No matter where we are on our own faith journey, there is a sense in which we can always say, ‘we want to see Jesus’. Those two Greeks were at the very beginning of their faith journey as followers of Jesus. Yet, their wish is appropriate for every stage of the journey. When it comes to the Lord, there is always more to be seen. When it comes to our relationship with the Lord, there is always room for growth. Saint Paul was one of the few people in the New Testament who had seen the risen Lord. Writing to the church in Corinth, he says, ‘Have I not seen Jesus our Lord?’ Yet in that same letter, he acknowledges, ‘now, we see as in a mirror dimly; but then we will see face to face’. In that eternal moment beyond this earthly life we will see the Lord clearly, face to face. Now, we see dimly, and so we can always say, ‘I want to see Jesus’, ‘I want to see him more clearly’. In his letter to the Philippians, Paul gives expression to this wish, this longing to see the Lord more clearly, when he says, ‘I want to know Christ’. We might be tempted to say to him, ‘Surely, you already know Christ’. He would reply to us, quoting again his letter to the Corinthians, ‘Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known’. It is only ‘then’ beyond this earthly life that we will know the Lord fully, will see him clearly.  Until then, we are among the Greeks in today’s gospel reading who say, ‘We want to see Jesus’.

 It is striking that the two Greeks did not approach Jesus directly. They approached one of Jesus’ disciples, Philip, who in turn went to Andrew and then, together, they went to Jesus with the request of the Greeks. The two disciples, Philip and Andrew, served as mediators between the Greeks and Jesus. These two disciples made it possible for the two Greeks to see Jesus. This is as true today as it was in the time of Jesus. We come to the Lord through each other. We are called to bring each other to the Lord, to help one another to see Jesus. In our faith life, in our search for Jesus, we are intimately bound up with one another. Parents help their children to see Jesus by teaching them to pray, bringing them to the church, reading passages from the gospels to them. Children, in turn, can bring their parents, and all of us, to see Jesus. Their unselfconscious desire to know the Lord, their openness to prayer and the world of the spirit, can touch us deeply, and even awaken some faith in us that has been dormant for some time. When it comes to our faith, we are all struggling to see; we are all a little blind and we need others to show us and to guide us.

 If at the beginning of today’s gospel reading we have two Greeks wanting to see Jesus, at the end of that reading we have those wonderful words of Jesus, ‘When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself’. Jesus declares there that when he is lifted up on the cross and lifted up in glory, he will be revealing his love for us and that love will draw us to himself. The one whom we wish to see is not playing hide and seek with us. Rather, he is constantly drawing us to himself in love. He is the grain of wheat that falls into the earth and dies and in dying bears much fruit. His dying is an explosion of love that envelopes us and brings to pass our wish to see him more clearly.

And/Or

(vi) Fifth Sunday of Lent

 Martin Luther King once wrote about a time when he knelt down in prayer at the kitchen table in his home in Alabama. A hail of stones had just come through the window because of his advocacy of civil rights for all. His wife and children were in danger. He had already become a highly qualified academic by then, and a promising career lay ahead. In prayer he found himself asking, ‘Do I really need this additional worry and danger?’ It was in that prayerful moment that he decided to put what he believed to be the will of God, which was the welfare of the most vulnerable, before his own security and that of his family. He would suffer a great loss for the sake of others. In a sense, he chose to risk death so that others might have a more humane life. His life is a striking example of the image that Jesus uses in the gospel reading, the grain of wheat that falls into the ground and dies, and in dying yields a rich harvest.

 Jesus himself was the supreme expression of that image. He, more than anyone, is the grain of wheat that falls to the ground and dies, and in dying yields a rich harvest. He refers to that harvest which springs from his dying towards the end of today’s gospel reading: ‘When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself’. Jesus is declaring that God who worked powerfully through his life, would work even more powerfully through his death. His death would reveal the power of God’s love for us in an even fuller way than his life had done. God’s love, revealed in Jesus’ death, would draw people to Jesus. Many people over the centuries, looking upon the crucifix, have experienced the strength of God’s love for them, and have found themselves drawn to Jesus, and through him, to God. Roman crucifixion was a degrading form of execution. Yet, the first believers, in the light of the resurrection, came to recognize Christ crucified as the fullest human expression of God’s love for humanity. In the words of Paul’s letter to the Romans, ‘God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners, Christ died for us’. This explosion of God’s love on Calvary was the rich harvest that came from the death of Jesus.

 Yet, the gospels suggest that becoming the grain of wheat that dies so that others might be touched by God’s life-giving love did not come easy to Jesus. It was a struggle to accept the loss of so much that was dear to him, in particular, his vibrant life, just as it was a struggle for Martin Luther King. Something of Jesus’ struggle comes through in today’s gospel reading.  He is tempted to pray to God, ‘What shall I say? Save me from this hour’. In the other gospels, Jesus prays in the Garden of Gethsemane, ‘Take this cup from me’. Yet, he went on to choose this great loss out of love for all of us. In the words of Jesus’ prayer in today’s gospel reading, ‘It was for this very reason that I have come to this hour’.

 In these spring days we may find ourselves sowing some seeds in the garden. The seed that dies in order to yield a new form of life is as familiar to us today as it was in the time of Jesus. The seed has to shed its husk so that the potential for new life it carries within itself can be realized. The loss of the husk is a necessary loss if the seed is to realize its potential. This phenomenon of nature can speak to our own experience as much as it did to the experience of Jesus. Jesus recognized that the loss of his life was a necessary loss if he was to remain faithful to his mission of revealing God’s love to a broken world. Each of us can be called upon to choose some significant loss so as to remain true to what God is asking of us. We can find ourselves at a crossroads, as Jesus did in the Garden of Gethsemane, as Martin Luther King did in the kitchen of his home. These are times when we sense a calling to risk some significant loss out of love for others, so that others, especially the most vulnerable, may have a fuller life. When we sense such a calling, we can be tempted, as Jesus was, to pray, ‘Save me from this hour’. However, whenever we choose some loss for ourselves out of love for others, we are sowing the seeds of a rich harvest. In the words of the gospel reading, we will be serving the Lord, sharing in his loving and life-giving mission. The Lord does not ask us to take this more difficult path, relying only on our own resources. We need to allow the Lord to keep drawing us to himself, so that we can draw strength from him. It is the strength we get from the Lord that allows us to keep taking the path of self-emptying love. Again, in the words of Saint Paul, ‘I can do all things through him who gives me strength’.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

[brashierc]

Game Plan | Prologue

7 Weeks Ago

Mia lived to be in the stands watching her boy play. It was her absolute most favorite thing to do.

She grew up watching football with her family every Sunday, Monday, and Thursday. It was just what her family did. So to say her family was Connor’s biggest fans was an understatement. They showed up to almost every game in blue and gold, his number painted on their cheeks, screaming his name almost as loud as she did. 

He could spot her anywhere in the crowd, having been the one to get her the tickets he made sure that she sat in the same spot at every game. Her auburn hair made her quite easy to spot, and then that smile was always there to greet his desperate eyes. 

This game though, was something else. He was really feeling the crowd and his teammates. He was throwing passes like it was as easy as breathing. He was trying out the new plays, and even resorting to some old high school fun. He was simply on fire, and having Shawn and Brian being in the same level of play just made for an exciting day of football.

They finished the game 58-7, and when he saw the look on her face before he headed to the locker room he knew he was in for a long night. 

That was all he could think about. 

“Brashier! You did me proud today.” Her dad spoke up first when he walked up to her family. 

He grinned and nodded. “Good, I’m glad.” 

He hugged her Mom, and shook her Dad’s hand. Her brother Jeremy gave her a ‘bro shake’, and Jeremy’s girlfriend Sarah settled for a polite wave. Once he was done saying hello to everyone he turned and locked eyes with his girl. 

“Hey,” She smiled. “You did good.” 

“Thanks.” He blushed, hugging her quickly before standing beside her and staring at the rest of her family. 

They all spoke idly about how work and school was going for everyone, and he inhaled sharply when her hand slipped into the back pocket of his jeans. He looked down at her, shooting her a glare. All she did was squeeze his ass in response. 

He coughed and cleared his throat, catching her mother's attention. “Are you feeling alright Connor?” 

“I’m okay, I’m just really overtired, had test a test today and practice this week was grueling.” 

“Oh, Mia, why didn’t you say anything. We’ll head out, you two get some rest okay? Don’t need my kids getting sick.” 

Mia and Connor both nod and smile, hugging and waving goodbye. 

“Overtired?” Mia grins looking to Connor as her family drives away.

“Overwhelmed?” He wraps his arms around her waist once he can’t see the car, pulling her close to his chest.

“With what?”

“Wanting you?” He bites his lip, cocking his head to the side. 

“Oh yeah? Well you might be in lu-”

“Brash! Fucking hell of a game, party at Shawn’s.” Brian claps his shoulder roughly, jostling them out of their moment. 

They both turn to see redheaded Brian Craigen and his girlfriend Alessia standing beside them. 

“Mia! Are you coming tonight? I need a drinking buddy.” Alessia asks, bouncing on her toes.

“What am I hmm?” Brian asks, leaning down to be close to her face.

“You’re my boyfriend who’s gonna go party with all his teammates and come back to me when you can’t walk straight because you drank too much. It’s a system at this point. I just hate drinking with that new girl Shawn’s with? She’s just not the kind I hang with.” 

Mia looks at Connor, silently begging him to come up with some excuse as to why they can’t go. 

“Yeah we’ll meet you over there, I wanna change.” Connor nods, fist bumping Brian as Alessia squeals about having Mia come tonight. 

Once they leave Mia and Connor head back to her car, he notices her pout right away.  “What?” He asks, once they’re both seated safely in the car. 

“We sent my family home to go to Shawn’s?” 

He sighs, taking her hand across the console as he drives them back to their apartment. 

“No,” He shakes his head. “We’ll go to Shawn’s long enough to make an appearance, say hi to Bri and Les, take a pic with them so the next morning we can say we were there, and then leave.” 

“So I’m gonna have to get ready just to leave?” 

He looks over, eyeing her quickly. 

“Why would you need to get ready?” 

“Because I can’t wear this to a party.” 

“Why?”

“Because it’s your practice jersey, it’s not party attire.” 

“It’s a celebration because I just won us a helluva game, you look hot as fuck in my jersey, I would say its party attire.” 

“You really like it?” 

“I really really really like it.” 

“Well stay no longer than an hour?”

“I’ll get us out of there in 20 minutes.” 

“Okay fine.” 

_______________________________________

It took him 12 minutes to pose for a beer pong picture with Brian, to peel Shawn away from the new girl he’s with and give their signature peace signs to the camera lens, and to get a picture of Mia and Alessia in front of the set photo backdrop wall. 

They were back home to their shared apartment in no time. 

“Leave it on Baby.” Connor husks, tugging her hands away from the hem of his jersey. 

He has her pressed against the wall of their hallway, not having the patience to wait until they got to the bedroom.

“You wanna fuck with the jersey on?” 

“Mhm.” He moans into her neck.

Yeah, it was a long night. 

[coolpolarbear123]

Band Camp Day 1

Yes, we’re having band camp in the midst of a global pandemic

Wednesday, August 12th, 2020

10th Grade | 11th Grade | 12th Grade | Freshman Year | Sophomore Year | Junior Year | All

1 >>

I explained last year the origins of this, so if you’re curious, you can check that out:

Essentially: I use tumblr as an actual blog for a week. Or a diary. Whichever.

Now I know what you’re thinking: band camp? We’re literally at the height of coronavirus

You’re right, we are. It is way less of a problem where I go to university, but it’s still not the best idea, I know

We are all taking bets on how long this lasts and when the uni is gonna switch us back to fully online, and my bet is a little less than a month. My friends have all said 2-3 weeks.

The uni is also testing all of us, I got tested on the 8th because band kids needed to be tested at least two days prior (it takes two days to process)

Except that’s a lie because my results aren’t in and neither are anyone elses

Okay that’s an exaggeration, half of them are probably back

Anyway, onto how the band is handling this

Band camp was shortened by a couple days to allow for testing, so we started today instead of Sunday/Monday. Leadership started this morning, and the rest of us started at 12:30pm.

We were supposed to start yesterday, but covid results weren’t coming in fast enough, so we had to postpone another day

I definitely needed the extra practice time, though, I guess

Not that I used it properly, but spoiler alert: I’m third chair out of twelve

Okay but I guess I went to Biggbby before practice instead of practicing but a n y w a y

Got there, got in a circle, seeing our freshmen for the first time and old friends for the “first time”

Because we definitely Did Not all see each other several times in the days leading up to band camp

We all checked it, which was super quick

So in the past, the band gets into an entire block, and that’s called “block” and we sorta just figure it out by section, and then we use that same configuration for the rest of the year, but this year we got assigned seats, essentially

I was put in the back, moved to the front, then put so far back I’m only by one person??

Does that sound like a block to you??

And then we did auditions

Outside

We walked so far away from the practice field, we may as well have been in a different timezone

All of band camp is outside this year. Playing rehearsals, meetings, everything.

Social distancing, of course

“Social distancing”

Masks on whenever we aren’t playing

That, we actually are managing to do

And yeah, I’ll keep you updated on how much of a dumpster fire this becomes

In the meantime, my friends and I are all in two apartments, living together, so if one of us gets it, the entire section goes down, and speaking of the section, we have 4 freshmen!

We were supposed to have, like, 9, but our band director literally kept urging them to switch instruments until 5 of them did

It made us really mad, it was a whole ordeal

Like we were specifically targeted, and yeah we were one of the biggest sections, but there are others just as big

And the drumline didn’t even need anyone else

It’s so maddening—all of the returning piccolos are angry

Like one of them went to colorguard, and our band director practically asked right in front of our drill instructor

Again, it’s a whole, very maddening, thing

Back to the program: after the auditions (we were the last to finish, but #notlast) we headed back to the practice field where our band director started without us

But the worst part is that he started right as we were walking across to put our stuff down? Like if felt like an extra “f*ck you” because he could have waited five more seconds but no

“but the piccolos aren’t unappreciated or disregarded or anything”

Ugh anyway

We played scales, went home for dinner, met at the music building (outside because of covid), marched down to the practice field as we always do

Spaced out a Ton Extra because covid (part 87648687)

People shouted “you’re doing great” which my compliment-deprived husk liked

Our band director said “looking good” when he looked at our section, and $1 million says he didn’t know we were the piccolos

We learned how to march until the end of practice (9pm), then we sang the alma mater and fight song as we usually do, but not really

We usually all form lines of side hugs (is there a name for that?) and sway back and forth, but because of covid, we had to stay still

It made it a lot harder, actually

Oh, during our one (1) break, we made our groupchat and Immediately memes and shenanigans began. This is a good section this year, folks. We’re close already, which is amazing

Other sections could never

Our after band activity was the scavenger hunt, which if you don’t know, we won two years ago, when our section chant became “Not Last” (which we still chant to this day)

It’s a very important night for the piccolos, to say the very least

We got 6th out of 7th, so I guess that’s not last, but also we suspect the judging was very biased even though they said it wasn’t

Reading this, you might be like “anni, you’re paranoid, they aren’t treating the piccs that badly” but I promise you, I can pull pages of receipts that I don’t really want to say on a public tumblr post, so sorry

The only people who read these are my friends, anyway, so I trust that you guys believe me

The scavenger hunt was fun though! It involves a lot of waiting, and we really bonded during that, too

We played ninja, which made other sections start playing ninja

But the piccolos aren’t close or anything

We sang country roads for a hot second

We did a bajillion dumb ice breakers

“everyone say what pet you have”

I said “I have a little brother, a dog, and a fish”

“if you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

I said “the grave”

Apparently that one isn’t wholesome like everyone else’s

Got home, my section leader called me because even more Piccolo Hatred happened, which I’m definitely not typing out here, sorry, and now it’s time for me to sleep!

This may get posted late depending on my wi-fi situation, but theoretically, I’ll see you guys tomorrow

okay but also

“maybe if the piccs didn’t distance themselves from other sections...”

me, when I stepped onto the practice field for the first time, having tons of people from different sections waving at me,

anyway anyway

[starrybbarnes]

into the heat [b.b]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: it’s taco tuesday. you make some salsa. your friends can’t hang, and apparently, neither can your boyfriend.

Word Count: 1473

Author’s note: I had some tacos on sunday and my god, la salsa verde was to d i e for. it was so good, I swear. I’m just salivating at the thought of tacos and green salsa, with some lime on top. I think I might buy some for work later today. as always, feedback is appreciated!

Warnings: definitely some swearing, food mention so don’t read while on an empty stomach 

It was a normal Tuesday afternoon back at the compound. It was lunchtime and it meant only one thing: Taco Tuesday.

The team has done taco Tuesday before you came on board, but it would just consist of Stark buying 2 boxes of the Taco Bell party pack and would call it a day. It was a disgrace. 

You remember the first time you joined the Avengers for taco Tuesday. You were deceived when Thor said, “it’s the best Midguardian food I’ve ever tasted.” 

Oh, how you missed eating your grilled serrano pepper that day. 

You remembered you offered to make some street tacos about a month later, and boy, did everyone’s mind explode. Savory meats, fresh limones, and decadent salsas would line the kitchen table every time on Tuesday. The Avengers would have more than seconds almost every week. 

Not only that but with your cooking (in general), you won your way through a super soldier’s heart. “It’s the easiest way to trap a man,” Natasha would joke around with you.

You have been dating Bucky for over a year now, and he’s wedged himself in helping you during taco Tuesdays. Whether it be chopping the cilantro and onions, heating up las tortillas, or going to the farmers market early in the morning, Bucky enjoyed that time with you.

There were only two things, however, that your Bucky wouldn’t touch on Taco Tuesdays. That was the meat preparation and salsa making. Sure, Bucky would choose the cuts of meat and the freshest peppers and cilantro, but when it came down to actually cooking it, it was none of his business.

“I simply cannot trust a white man to season their food,” you simply said over the table one time. 

“But you’ve seen me add actual seasoning and flavors to other dishes?” Bucky argued. 

“Bucky please,” you interjected, “my trust has been severed ever since that Niall celebrity didn’t season his chicken. An absolute catastrophe.” 

Since then, no one has argued on that topic. It was a part of the routine that you called yours. 

When it came to the nitty-gritty, everyone seemed to enjoy the fact that you’d make a savory taco, with some mild but delicious salsas. 

However, the one dish you missed making was your signature spicy avocado salsa. Since no one in this compound can handle the flavor, you’d always send Bucky to go to the nearest taco truck and ask for a small serving of it to take home to you. You’d always remember to tip the workers for all that they do, and you’ve actually exchanged recipes. 

Today, you decided to make your favorite salsa. 

It was 12 noon, and you knew Bucky was well underway getting the ingredients for the tacos. You called him and let him know to add avocados, fresh jalapeños, and some green husk tomatoes. You also mentioned to not bring any avocado salsa today, but to pay the truck a visit.

“Uh, Y/N?” Bucky started, “are you not gonna have salsa with your tacos?”

“I am,” you slowly said, “but I’m kinda wanting to have some more kick in my life.”

“All you had to do was ask, doll,” Bucky chuckled through the phone.

“Oh no, Buck,” you laughed, “We’re talking me crying while eating a taco typa kick.”

“Just don’t kill anyone, okay?” Bucky replied, half-joking, half actually being serious.

“No promises,” you sang.

。。

Smells of meat and cilantro swirled the kitchen and made its way into the common room, signaling that food was almost ready. Bucky was helping you chop up the meat while you were heating up tortillas on the comal. 

One by one, the team started filing into the dining area, words of praises and absolute delight that their favorite day of the week has finally arrived. 

You set the garnishes and red and green on the main table. From the fridge, you pulled out a bowl of the almost neon green substance and placed it on the table. 

The avocado salsa. 

The team ooo’ed at how bright green the salsa was as if giving off a warning. 

“Whoa!” an eager Sam yelled in amazing, “the food looks amazing! I’m really banking on the fact that you made the food instead of ol’ Chef Boyardee over here” 

You started giggling as Bucky attempted to throw a piece of meat at Sam, only for him to catch it in his mouth. 

“Well, he was a big help, but rest assured, Sam I was in charge of the cooking,” you replied as everyone started serving themselves.

Once everyone was seated, people dug in, only the sounds of content would be heard. You grabbed your bowl of avocado salsa and put a helping on each taco that was on your plate. 

Sam saw what you were doing and spoke up, “what is that green stuff, Y/N? It smells really good and looks amazing.”

You hesitated a bit before you answered, “it’s guacamole. I know it doesn’t look like your standard one, but that’s because I added some extra stuff.” 

Sam signaled for the bowl and you passed it over to him. Seeing you eat the tacos with ease, he decided to put even more salsa on his helping of tacos. You eyed him carefully, awaiting a reaction.

“Wow!” Sam exclaimed, “This is so good! I think I’ll eat spoonfuls of this stuff!”

You were about to feel left down when you saw it happening. Sam started coughing profusely and started sticking out his tongue. He started signaling for water and when you handed him the large cup, he downed it in 5 seconds flat.

“What in the fuck is in the god damn guac!” Sam hollered. “I think I am about to pass out.”

“Not much really,” you stated, “some lime juice, avocado, green tomatoes, 2 jalapeños, maybe half a serrano paper?”

“Two??” Sam yelled, “do you want me to DIE?”

“Sam,” you started, “I think you’re overreacting.”

“Your tacos were practically bathing in the salsa,” Sam argued.

“Psh, it can’t be that bad,” Thor commented.

“Would you like to try some, Thor?” you offered sweetly. 

Now everyone was looking at Thor. Slowly, he gulped and poured some on a taco. As he ate it, he did the same reaction as Sam. Absolute delight, and then his life flashing before his eyes.

Before long everyone tried to get their hands on the salsa. Steve stopped everyone and said, “I think as super soldiers, Bucky and I should try it out. Maybe Sam is overreacting.”

When Bucky heard his name, he choked on his drink. “No way man. You know I don’t mess with m’girls food.”

“Oh lighten up,” Steve assured him, “We probably won’t feel a thing.”

You snickered. You knew for a fact that Steve would start tearing up at just eating Hot Cheetos. 

Bucky looked at you with his puppy eyes. He was trying to get out of it, and fast. He saw you when you added the peppers into the blender. Even the times he’s seen you eat raw peppers, it freaked him out that you’d never elicit a reaction. 

“C’mon sweetheart,” you pouted, “just one bite. I swear it’s not spicy.” 

Bucky sighed and put a helping of salsa on his taco, Steve trying so hard to put the same amount if not less.

They saluted each other and bit into their taco. Bucky actually finished the whole thing, triumphant smile now apparent. Steve slowly finished his and sighed in relief.

“Well ya look at that,” Bucky laughed, “Looks like I still am a super-soldier.”

“Give it a minute.” 

Steve was the first to start coughing. “Oh my god, my mouth is on FIRE!” 

Bucky soon after followed, eyes welling up and his sinuses going haywire. Steve actually started crying, just repeating ‘so spicy’ over and over again.

“Doll, if I die right here, just know that I love you very much,” Bucky cried out. 

You handed Bucky a slice of bread, “eat this, you’ll live.”

The team concluded that you were a goddess amongst them because apparently, you can’t feel the heat. 

You rubbed Bucky’s back as he slowly started to feel better.

“I just don’t get it,” you sighed, “this stuff tastes really good. And I only put a little bit this time!”

Bucky just groaned in response, “well, this is one thing I won’t be stealing from the fridge.” 

“Then maybe, just maybe, my planned worked,” you joked, earning a smile from Bucky.

You kissed him on the lips and then scowled, “Jesus, Buck even your lips are on fire!”

“What can I say, I’m attracted to heat,” Bucky answered, panting ever so slightly.

“Maybe one of these days, you’ll be able to handle it,” you joked, eating one more of your man-catching tacos doused in your salsa. 

。。

i made myself hungry just writing this bahaha

translations:

Limones = lemons

comal = skillet/griddle

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 42)

Banking, The Old American Art

Here it is, folks. The bank job.

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

The last time I saw Arthur at Shady Belle was right before they all left for the bank. He was dressed smartly in a white shirt and a nice jacket, a little pomade in his hair that made him look like some sort of prince charming; it was as if he was going to a special occasion. They all looked that way, the gang members going on the job, dressed in their Sunday best. Dutch, Hosea, John, Charles, Javier, Bill and Micah. Abigail too, she was helping out.

Arthur and I were pressed around the side of a wagon, the one occupied by Abigail and Hosea, readying to set off while everyone else got ready too, going over the final details of the plan, mounting up. Jet was nearby but Arthur was saying his goodbyes to me where no one could see us. He had my face cradled in his hands, his lips greedy against mine, full of fervid passion as I gripped the lapels of his jacket. He broke the kiss, pressed our foreheads together and stared into my eyes so close. 

Neither of us had to say anything, it all went unspoken. I begged him with my eyes to be safe and he told me to be ready with his own. 

Oh, I was ready. I had my suitcase packed and stored up in Arthur's room where he was all packed up too. We were ready to go, in theory, though the whole time I was fraught with a feeling of disbelief, or not necessarily disbelief, but oddly settled. Like it hadn't sunk in that I was going anywhere, and I didn't really think we would be. Perhaps because it seemed a little too good to be true, just running off into the sunset with Arthur, and I couldn't wrap my head around it. 

My gut feeling, it turned out, wasn't all for nothing. 

Abigail returned to camp first, riding in on a horse that wasn't one of ours, not stopping and dismounting, riding straight into the main camp where the rest of us were near the fire. 

"They got Hosea! I managed to get away but they took Hosea, arrested him or something, I don't know!" Her eyes were wide and she looked a dishevelled, terrified husk of the woman she'd left as that morning.

Abigail and Hosea were running the distraction part of the plan, creating some sort of diversion to attract the law away from the bank. It seemed their plan worked a little too well. At that point none of us knew how the others had gotten on, but Abigail told us about the swarms of lawmen that had responded; an unnatural amount, and any confidence I had that things could still go to plan dwindled. I pushed the doubt from my mind, I could not think about what could go wrong. 

The gang didn't seem to know what to do right away. It was like everyone was aching to turn to Dutch, who of course was not there. 

"Perhaps we should start packing," I spoke up while everyone was huddled together around Abigail, questioning, worrying, agonising. "If it's gone bad, I'm guessing when they get back they'll want to move right away."

"She's right. We might as well do something," Sadie agreed. Miss Grimshaw, who was surprisingly quiet, nodded. 

"Alright. Come on, everyone, you know the drill," she called out, and everyone got moving.

Arthur and I's things were already packed, so it was just a case of carrying it all downstairs and loading it up on a wagon. His satchel was still sitting on his bed where he'd left it that morning, his journal tucked away inside. I kept it aside for him, not wanting it to get lost or damaged on the wagon, and just loaded up the rest of his things. Lenny – who was now up on his feet again, though using a stick to help him walk – commented on how fast I'd packed. I just told him I'd had a lot of practice, and moved on to Pearson's wagon, packing up all our food. 

We had the camp packed up by evening time, and we all sat around the campfire and waited. Darkness had fallen and people were beginning to wonder if anyone was even going to come back; I assured them they were probably taking their time, not wanting to lead anyone back. Some believed me, others didn't. I wasn't even sure which side I was on.

Then Charles turned up. He rode in, looking exhausted and nothing like his usual calm, level-headed self.

"Charles!" Everyone exclaimed, getting up and rushing over to the man, offering him some of the venison we'd cooked over the fire for dinner. Charles shook his head, glancing between everyone there. It was like he didn't know who to address; who was in charge when Dutch and Hosea weren't around?

His eyes settled on Miss Grimshaw. "We need to get moving. That was a disaster, there are patrols all over the place. The others were going to try and get out of the city by boat, I'm here 'cause I diverted some of the Pinkertons so they could get away. Thought someone should come back and let you all know."

"By boat? What boat?" I questioned, thoughts going to Tahiti and Dutch's plan. 

"Whatever they could get, I don't know. The city is crawling, we hid in a building until nightfall, wanted to come back, but there was no way all of us were going to make it. We didn't have many options, I don't know what they're planning on doing next."

"Oh my God," Abigail breathed. Charles looked at her, his face shifting uncomfortably. My stomach dropped. 

"The Pinkertons captured John. Arrested him at the bank, I've never seen so many lawmen, it was unbelievable," he explained, and Abigail covered her mouth, no sound escaping her. "Miss Grimshaw, may I speak with you privately? There's something I– I don't know how to say it." He added.

"Of course," the lady in question nodded, her face a picture of shock and uncertainty. "Everyone, start thinking of where we could go. We can't stay here with these patrols."

The two of them walked away, went inside the house. I wondered what he was telling her that he couldn't just say in front of everyone. Whatever it was, it was unlikely to be good news. 

Nausea hit strong and sudden, and I swallowed the saliva that began to gather in my mouth, forced myself to ignore it and focus on the task at hand. "Right, so… any ideas? Do you think it would be possible to head back West? Maybe North-West?"

"Back where we came from? I don't know. Dutch doesn't usually like retracing his steps," Pearson said, sitting down on a log and raking his hands through his hair.

"Up north, then. Roanoke?" Karen suggested. 

"Would you really wanna go up there?" Tilly cocked a brow at her. 

"No, but maybe that's the point. We go some place even the law won't come looking," Karen countered, taking a swig from the bottle of beer she'd been nursing all evening. 

"There's a small settlement in the bayou," Strauss began thoughtfully, "rather unsavoury fellows living up there. But I'd wager they wouldn't look for us. Not right away, at least, perhaps it would give us a few days."

"Ain't too too far, we don't wanna be travelling for miles right now, the whole lot of us," Sadie noted, nodding her head slowly and considerately.

"It will need clearing out for certain, the place is called Lakay,” Strauss added. 

"I know it, ain't far from where I grew up," I said, eyes all turned to me. "You're right, nobody dared go there; we'd be pretty safe if we can take over."

Charles and a despondent looking Susan reemerged from the house and headed back towards us. 

"Seems like our best bet. We don't need anywhere too permanent, just somewhere to go while the dust settles and we figure out what's going on," Sadie said, turning to face Charles. "Charles, you got it in you to help me clear out a new camp, up at Lakay?"

"Of course," he nodded. Sadie then looked at me. 

"You know where this place is?" She asked, and I nodded. "Will you show us the way?"

"Uh, sure," I said hesitantly, and Charles looked at Sadie with a slightly cocked brow. 

"Hey, don't worry. I ain't gonna make you shoot nobody," she smirked, patting me on the arm. I released a relieved breath, somewhat of a laugh. "You can just hang back, warn us if anyone else turns up."

"Okay, that I can do," I nodded. 

"We'll ride ahead, deal with whoever's there," she addressed the rest of the group, "everyone else, finish off clearing this place. We'll come back, ride up with you all soon," Sadie said, then clapped Charles and I on the shoulder and started towards the horses. 

"Stay vigilant. There will be patrols, make sure nobody comes near the camp before we can all leave," Charles warned. I nodded in agreement. 

"Be careful," I called to them as we left. 

The three of us mounted up, and I took the lead as we trotted out of camp, soon speeding into a gallop.

"There's some strange people in the swamps," I called over my shoulder, "you two ought to be careful. We all do, once we're set up. We're bound to run into the night folk."

"Night folk?" Sadie asked, raspy tone sharpened with confusion. 

"That's what they call them. They are brutal. I saw things hanging in the trees that no kid ever should, growing up. They'll kill you if you give them the chance, and it won't be over quick," I explained. 

"And you think this is a good place to camp?" Charles addressed both of us incredulously. 

"They wouldn't bother with a huge group like us. We just need to make sure nobody wanders too far alone," I told him. 

"If you say so."

"I do. My family lived here, we survived, and we weren't a gang of heavily armed outlaws. We'll be okay," I glanced back, giving him a small smile. 

We rode into the bayou, fog coming in thick and opaque, the soggy air clinging. Beads of sweat and moisture from the air rolled down my spine, making me shiver, tickling like fingers but not in that nice way that Arthur's did… like unwelcome, cold fingers. I could swear the swamps were haunted, growing up. Still could as an adult. 

"Uh, listen, you two. I should tell you," Charles began, his voice low and careful. "I told Miss Grimshaw before, she said she'd tell the others, I couldn't quite bring myself to say it in front of everyone. I'm not… I'm not good with these things."

"What's wrong?" I asked, slowing a little, falling into step beside him, so the three of us were travelling abreast. 

"We… we lost Hosea," he told us softly, his face solemn, mouth turned down.

"What?" I gasped, saw Sadie's face shift into shock, "Abigail told us the law captured him."

"Yeah, they had him. But they– he–" Charles seemed to be struggling, clearly pained by having to deliver the news, "I'm sorry, there wasn't anything any of us could do, they overpowered us completely."

"Oh God," I breathed, my heart shattering. Not for my loss, but for Arthur's. I couldn't bear to think about how he must be feeling; Hosea meant a lot to him, and Hosea cared for Arthur like a son, far more than Dutch seemed to. 

"What an awful disaster that bank turned out to be," Sadie lamented, "though I'm starting to notice a pattern. Nothing seems to be going well lately."

"Right. We've made too much noise, angered too many people. I don't know about you two, but I'm starting to feel restless. I just can't relax anymore, even at camp. Especially not while the O'Driscolls keep showing up," Charles said, and I felt him looking at me. I kept my eyes on the road, silent. 

"We need to get far away, buy us some real time. But now ain't a good time, obviously, we gotta stick around for Arthur and the others," Sadie said, and my ears pricked up at his name. 

I noted how she'd said Arthur and the others, rather than the standard Dutch and the others. Did she not see Dutch as the invincible leader that most of the others did?

"How're you holding up, honey?" She asked, and I looked up to confirm she was talking to me in that soft, careful tone. "You've gone quiet."

Both sets of eyes were on me, and mine bounced back and forth between them as my mouth hung open wordlessly for a few moments. "I'm fine," I finally said, "we're almost there."

We rode the rest of the way in silence, listening to the mushy thumping of three sets of hooves on the compacted, damp Earth. I slowed further as we came up the road leading into Lakay, veering off to the side of the path. 

"It's just up this road. Don't, uh, mind the skulls on sticks over there," I gave an anxious laugh, and Sadie gave me a mild smile of amusement. "I'd go on foot from here, but please be careful."

The two of them dismounted, leading their horses to the side of the path, retrieving their guns from their saddles. Charles glanced up at me over his horse's back. 

"Get your gun out, stay armed and look after yourself," he told me and I nodded, retrieving the rifle from my saddle, readying it as I watched them turn and disappear up the path. 

There were a few moments of silence where I was left alone and in peace with my thoughts. Honestly, it was a few moments I could've done without, as it forced me to think of Arthur and the others. I hadn't really had time to feel since Charles had returned and explained the situation; but my feelings hit strong once I was free to think. In my stomach grew a sharp, thistly weed of dread; stabbing and cutting deep inside me. He'd gotten on a boat to God knows where. Even if he got to wherever he was going without the law realising, how would he ever get back? Could he, even?

Part of me wished I was ballsy enough to be of use in something like a bank robbery, just so that I could've gone with them, just so I could know where he was, whether he was okay. Instead I was left behind; clueless and damn near useless, tagging along with the others and quickly beginning to worry that I was not cut out for life in this gang without Arthur in it too. 

Gunfire began. I gripped my rifle tighter and slid down off of Rayna, staring intently up the road to the settlement. I could see Sadie and Charles in cover behind dilapidated wooden structures, being shot at by far more people than was a fair match for the two of them. And I was just stood there watching.

What in God's name am I doing here?

I gnawed on my lip, ambled over to the cover of the trees nearby, getting behind the thickest with a good vantage point into Lakay, narrowing my eyes in a bid to better focus on what was happening. I saw bodies drop, Sadie and Charles working together to clear the place out despite such a vicious attack from the mean looking bunch living there. 

I thought I was going crazy when I saw someone behind Sadie, and raised my weapon to get a better look through the scope still fitted from the time I'd gone hunting with Arthur and Charles. I wasn't crazy. There was a guy crouched close to her, coming from behind where she couldn't see, knife poised. I went cold.

For a moment I waited for her to notice, secretly hoping she would, finding it so difficult to pull the trigger despite the circumstances. Did that make me a bad person? Hesitating to kill a person– a threat to the life of my friend? Or would killing make me a bad person, regardless of the reason? 

I didn't have time to answer these questions, the knife was drawn back, ready to be thrown, and I didn't think, I just fired. He dropped instantly, just like a deer or those bears. Gone. Sadie spun at the sound, eyes landing on the body before flickering up in my general direction, but she couldn't lose focus and was soon returning her attention to the people shooting at her. 

My heart was hammering, but I shifted my sights, seeking out dangers that Charles and Sadie might not be seeing. I hoped to God they would have it under control, I was far from accustomed to shooting people, even if those people were armed and shooting at those I cared about. It left me with a hollow feeling inside me, the kind of feeling that made me understand why Arthur was so desperate to stop me from having to do this. 

I soon realised that where the enemies had the advantage in numbers, Sadie and Charles had the element of surprise on their side; they were picking them off one by one, made it look easy. If they weren't my friends, I'd have been terrified of them. 

It was over quickly. In the end I didn't need to lend my assistance any further than that one guy, every time I sought someone out, thinking they might be a threat, they dropped in my sight from a bullet I didn't fire. They had it covered, and were soon out in the open, darting in and out of the buildings that made up the settlement, checking for hideouts. When they were satisfied the place was clear, Sadie started heading back towards me. 

She sent Charles' horse over to him with a pat on the flank, then addressed me with an intrigued look. 

"You saved my skin just then, didn't you?" 

"He was sneaking up, I just noticed him," I murmured as she mounted up. 

"Thanks, glad we brought you along," she smiled, "come on, mount up. Charles is gonna, uh, tidy up. I said we'd go get the others and bring 'em down."

"Sure," I said through a grunt as I lifted myself back up onto Rayna. She was a little antsy after all of the gunfire, but she was easily soothed with a few strokes of her mane. We started heading back the way we came, and it was the first time Sadie and I had ever really spoken one on one. 

"You're struggling there, ain't you?" She asked me after a few minutes of riding in silence, during which I felt her gaze flicking to me every now and then. I didn't meet her eyes. 

"It's a lot to take in," I simply responded. 

"It is. I ain't been here much longer than you. Just a couple weeks more," she pointed out, "I can't say I've made too many friends. Abigail, of course, and I get along with Arthur and John. But you; you get along with Arthur a helluva lot," she gave a little snort. 

"Yeah we're pretty close," I said drily, grossly understating it to Sadie's sympathetic smile. 

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I bet you're worried."

"I don't know whether I should be. I know he does this for a living, I've worried time and time again when he's been out working and he's always come back. I'm torn between telling myself he'll come back this time, just like usual, and preparing myself for him not coming back," my words tumbled out emotionlessly and I stared ahead at the path. 

Sadie was quiet for some time, and when she spoke, her words were carefully selected. "When we get back to camp, we'll write a note. Something inconspicuous, so it ain't a disaster if the Pinkertons find it. But something that'll let Arthur and the others know where we are should they go back to the house."

If they go back would've been too ambiguous, too pessimistic. When they go back would've been setting hopes too high, risking a crushing disappointment if it never happened. Should they go back was a nice middle ground. To the house, well, that balanced things out even more, it suggested they could come back and not necessarily return to the house, like they had freedom to choose. Though it also didn't say for sure they'd return at all. It was a perfectly balanced sentence, one I could only nod my head to. 

When we arrived back at Shady Belle, everyone was packed up and ready to go. We made one final sweep of the house and I collected Arthur's satchel from where I'd left it to keep it safe, then we stood around the table as Sadie wrote the letter to Tacitus Kilgore, explaining that his niece, Caroline, had gone off to Lakay for a short trip.

With that done, and everyone feeling deflated and, frankly, scared, we all loaded up on our wagons and horses and rode to our new home.

[hansensgirl]

it’s been a long, long time.

“kiss me once then kiss me twice then kiss me once again.”

forties!bucky x forties!reader

bucky comes home from war and makes up for the dance he promised.

warnings: tooth rotting FLUFF

you shivered from the cold breeze that occasionally passed. the trench coat wasn’t enough to keep your body warm. tonight was the night. the night that all soldiers from the 107th were coming back. you knew that all of them couldn’t have survived, but you hoped bucky wasn’t among the unfortunate.

it was 12 p.m and you watched the reunions. some cried, others were smiling brightly but it still made your heart warm. fathers reuniting with their wife’s and children, it was beautiful. soon there were few to no people waiting, everyone gone. you stared at the crystal water that was illuminated by the streetlights.

you were convinced that bucky was still alive, but after a few minutes, negative thoughts filled your mind. you decided to go home, but looked back at the boat which was empty. you looked down at your feet and started to walk away. you felt the presence of someone around you, but just shrugged it off. you turned around once again, but there was no sign of bucky.

“mrs. barnes, did you miss me?” a familiar voice questioned. you turned around to see bucky, your bucky. “buck!” you squealed in excitement, running to hug him. “i missed you so much” you expressed against his jacket. “i missed you too” he smiled and kissed your head. you pulled away and looked in his beautiful blue eyes. “i couldn’t find you and i got worried, where were you?” you jutted out your bottom lip, pouting.

“i had to do some paperwork, but i’m fine” he reassured you. “the fact that you’re safe is all that matters” you pressed a kiss on his cheek. “hey lovebirds ! mind getting it on somewhere else?!” a worker yelled. you and bucky both scurried away, but then you started to giggle. he admired you as your eyes scrunched up and held your stomach.

“let’s go home darling” he husked, then wrapped his arm around your waist. you two walked slowly, taking in every step. “so, what’d ya do while i was gone?” he questioned, pulling out a cigarette, which you then smacked out of his hand.

“i read a lot, and got a job at the library” you said, recalling the many books that sat next to you everyday, and the headaches of job hunting. “i’ll visit you everyday, did you buy any new records?” he practically jumped up when he asked. “yes, i bought quite a few, most are songs to slow dance to.”

you reminisced the sundays that you and bucky spent together, dancing to the tune that your record player played. you finally reached the small shared house you and bucky lived at. it was perfect for you both. you were so lost in your memories, you didn’t realize that bucky already fell asleep as soon as he hit the bed.

it felt like you just closed your eyes, but when your lids fluttered open, the sunshine practically blinded you. “g’morning darling, how’d you sleep?” he rubbed your cheek with his thumb. “don’t know, did you get some rest?” you pecked his lips. “better than ever” he smiled. the morning flew by just like that, and you cherished each moment with bucky.

“love, can you bring those new records you bought?” he asked, then coughed from the nicotine from his cigarette. you grabbed it from between his lips and put it out, then threw it across the room. “sure love.” you walked to the drawer and pulled it, revealing at least five new records. he adored harry james, so when his records were on sale, you jumped at the chance.

you brought them over and he brought the record player. “god i love you so much, all these harry james records” he smiled hard, making you blush. you handed them to him and he read each title. he placed down four and left one in his hand. you already listened to them, and to your surprise, he chose your favourite.

he placed the record and dropped the pin down. the tune of ‘its been a long long time’ played, which immediately made you feel calm. “i believe i owe my love a dance, don’t i?” the corner of his mouth tugged upward, and he reached his hand out. you placed you hand in his, and he guided you, swaying your hips. you ignored the outside world, and just focused on the current moment.

“it’s been a long, long time”

tagged: @ineffablebuckys @buckysthing

[january3693]

Someone We Used to Know - Part 23

(This is a Marauders Era AU about what might have changed if Sirius was expelled after the Prank. Here’s the Master List if you’d like to start from the beginning or find a specific part)

(This is a day late, but I’ll be posting an extra chapter tomorrow to make up for it. As for this one, we will see how things ended in the hotel room, but I wanted to play with the narrative a bit, and I wanted to bring Lily into the mix, because I love her.)

A familiar patronus surprises Professor Lily Evans-Potter in her office. Lily swears as she hastily cleans up blotches of ink she just splattered across a third year Hufflepuff’s essay on the uses of doxy eggs. She glares at the silvery stag and hopes her son, who is playing with blocks and a stuffed dragon on the rug beside her, doesn’t pick up any on the words she just said.

 “I’m back,” James’s voice says from the stag’s mouth. “Or, well, I’m at the shop…think I’m going to putter around here for a while. Be back by dinner though…I love you.”

 Lily sighs and pushes away her stack of ungraded essays. Harry is giggling and swiping a hand through the patronus’s silvery legs calling “Da!” When the stag vanishes, Harry’s cries wobble and threaten to turn into a tantrum. Before they can, Lily swoops around and picks him up off the floor, cuddling her son close and pressing kisses to his little cheeks until he’s laughing again.

 If only Lily herself could be so easily soothed.

 She’s been anxious and restless all day, worried that James was off either walking into a trap or about to get his heart broken, or both.

 Despite James’s strange, mirror-based quasi-alliance with him, Lily isn’t sure she trusts Regulus Black. He has a dark mark on his arm and still uses the word “Mudblood” even as he feeds James information about Death Eater plots.

 Whatever happened today, James is alive and uninjured, but something’s clearly wrong. She could read the anguish in his message and the way his patronus’s head had hung low.

 After muttering another curse, Lily summons one of Hogwarts’ many house elves.

 Lily’s situation is highly unusual. There are other professors at Hogwarts who are married or who have families, but she’s the only one whose husband and child live with her in the castle. Given Harry’s age (and James and Lily’s involvement with the Order) Dumbledore made an exception for them when he hired Lily last year.

 On one hand, Lily hates having exceptions made for her. On the other hand, she’s incredibly thankful for this one.

 After all, there’s a war going on, and everyone knows there’s no safer place in Britain than Hogwarts. And there’s nothing Lily wouldn’t do to protect her family.

 Right now, that means she needs to find out what happened with James today.

 Leaving Harry in the expert care of an overeager house elf, Lily makes her way through the castle to the statue of the one-eyed witch by the stairs to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Thankfully, no students are lingering nearby a Sunday afternoon, and the new Defence professor has probably been passed out drunk in his quarters since lunch.

 James shared this secret passageway and all the others he knows of with Lily when she’d become a professor, just in case. At her insistence, he’d also shared them with the Headmaster, who had been endearingly amused to learn something new about the castle.

 Now there are additional security measures beyond the simple password that opens the witch’s hump, both to keep intrepid, clever students from discovering a way out of the castle, and, more importantly, to keep adults from finding their way in.

 It’s a long walk down the tunnel, which gives Lily far too much time to think and worry.

 James had left early this morning in a storm of emotions—mostly anger and suspicion, but Lily had seen the flicker of hope in his hazel eyes. He said he didn’t believe it had been Sirius fighting alongside Remus at the museum, but Lily knew he secretly hoped it was.

 Whether it’s a dog barking in the night or a handsome man with dark hair crossing the street, James always hopes it’s Sirius.

 That eternal optimism is one of the things Lily loves about her husband.

 Lily has never known what to think about Sirius Black though.

 Before he was expelled Lily had only ever thought of him as James’s fellow bully. A cruel, arrogant brat who too many girls swooned and wept over when he inevitably and callously ignored them.

 Of course, she’d thought the same about James for a long time, and she’d been wrong there.

 After she started dating James toward the end of their sixth year, Lily was shown another side of Sirius through the stories his friends told. That boy had been fiercely loyal, supportive, and brave as well as funny, brilliant, and quietly sad.

 Even though she’d never known Sirius well, Lily mourned him, because when he’d disappeared he’d taken a piece of James with him. For his friends, Sirius Black was a wound that would never fully heal.

 Now, that wound has been ripped open all over again.

 Lily knows she’s close when she smells burnt sugar. It lingers even now, close to a year after the fire that nearly burnt Honeydukes to the ground.

 It was another Death Eater attack, timed right before Christmas holidays, when the village was packed with shoppers. Ambrosius Flume had died trying to save his shop and his customers, and his widow had chosen not to rebuild in the place where her husband had burned alive. She has a new sweet shop now, down in Edinburgh. Hogsmeade is poorer for it, but it did present a unique opportunity.

 James had snatched up the property quickly, paying double what the ruined building was worth. Mostly they did it to secure the other end of the one-eyed witch passageway, but since then the wreckage has come to mean something more for James.

 Her ever hopeful husband could look at the blackened husk of a building and imagine a bright future beyond war and fear.

 Lily finds her husband carefully transfiguring rubble into a long, polished countertop. He’s tense, almost shaking with emotion, and he doesn’t relax when Lily wraps her arms around him from behind.

 “You shouldn’t be here,” James says as he casts a particularly ineffective transmutation spell that makes the counter wobble like an enormous oak jelly.

 He’s right. Lily is violating the promise they made to each other.

 One of them always stays at Hogwarts. One of them always stays with Harry. They’re both warriors, but they’re parents as well, and they refuse to leave Harry an orphan.

 The shop is well-protected though, and Harry comes first, but James comes a very close second.

 “Tell me what happened,” Lily says. She rests her head in the space between James’s sharp shoulder blades and wraps her arms around his waist.

 James lowers his wand and takes one of Lily’s hands in his. Then he’s crying. Great sobs shake his entire body. Lily holds him tighter, blinking back empathetic tears of her own.

 She waits.

 She waits until James goes quiet and still in her arms. She holds him, grounds him, loves him, until he can talk to her.

 “It was him,” James finally says.

 Lily sucks in a breath. Of all the things she’d imagined, she’d never imagined Sirius Black might be alive, that he might actually wander back into James’s life after five absent years of silence and pain.

 “You’re sure?” Lily asks. This is war, after all. She wouldn’t put it past their enemies to pull such a despicable trick as impersonating James’s missing friend. There are ways of doing it—potions or complicated transfigurations backed by legilimency.

 “I’m sure,” James says though, and Lily believes him. “It was really Sirius. He’s alive…and he was never going to tell me. He was never going to come back.”

(Part 24)

[bow-down-im-your-queen-now]

Happy faces and Boy shorts

Prompt: Its all fun and games until someone accidentally burns the clubhouse down. Or in which the gang always knew Happy was serious in claiming you as his girl, but they didn't realize just how serious he was.

Paring: Happy Lowman x Reader

Fandom: Sons of anarchy

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: Language, Sexual situations, fire

A/N: I adore the characters from this show so i figured it was high time i wrote something! I know the fandom is smaller but i highly suggest checking out the show if you haven’t had the chance yet. Enjoy feed back is appreciated!

Standing in the parking lot of Teller-Morrow clad in only your underwear and a slightly over sized tee shirt at 6 am was not the ideal way you wanted to start your Sunday. Yet there you stood tired, pissy, and barely clothed.

“This sucks.” Was all you whined. Happy simply grunted in agreement.

The shrill sound of the fire alarm had stirred the clubhouse awake a while ago, a slight panic filled everyone as they jumped up more focused on quickly hiding any illegal paraphernalia rather than getting dressed.

“We good?” You mumbled to Happy as you watched the fire department enter the lot to tackle the growing fire. You could only imagine what he might have had laying around his room just ready to get him in trouble.

“Mhmm, don’t you worry girl.” Was all he rumble pulling you closer as the firefighters began to unload from the truck.

It wasn't that long before Gemma and Clay were pulling into the already crowded parking lot. Tig had been the one to call them not long after the fire started.

"Is everyone okay?" Gemma called out as she ran up, Clay in tow behind her.

"Yeah Gem, we're okay, everyone got out in time." You said as you walked towards her. She was quick to tightly embrace you squeezing hard. She held on to you for a while and you didn't have to see the boys to know they were rolling their eyes at her dramatics. She finally pulled away but still held you at arms length, looking at you closely as if trying to make sure you weren't lying. "Gemma I'm okay, we're all okay."

She purses her lips for a second before finally nodding and letting you go. Clay walked up behind her and gave you a quick hug. "Glad you're alright kid."

You smiled up at him and you all walked towards the rest of the group where Gemma attacked everyone lingering around with the same tight hug you had received.

"So what happened?" Clay finally said as he watched the firemen stream in and out of the building, the fire was mostly controlled from what you could tell.

"Fucking Chuck happened." Tig gripped from the other side of happy. "Decided he wanted to make everyone breakfast at the crack ass of dawn, set the kitchen on fire."

Clay sighed loudly bring a hand up to rub his temples. "Idiot."

"He better not have burned those damn hands I bought him." Gemma quipped.

A little while later one of the head firemen began to approach the group tentatively, obviously wary of the tattooed, half dressed, and sleep deprived bikers. Gemma had disappeared into the office and the rest of the men, Clay included seemed disinterested in hearing a lecture from the man about whatever fire hazards were in the building.

"Excuse me, is there someone I can talk to?" He called out as he approached.

Everyone in the group looked back and forth at one another, no one wants to bite the bullet and you finally sighed stepping forward.

"Yes, sir?" You walked to meet him halfway and the guys chuckled behind you.

The man began droning on about the cause of the fire and you did your best to keep a polite smile plastered across your face.

"Holy shit." Tig chuckles as he watched you. "Is that what I think it is?"

This drew the attention of the rest of the men and they followed his gaze to where you stood, back facing them. While listening to the man you had placed your hands on your hips, causing the shirt you wore to rise up without you realizing it.

There on your left ass cheek was a tattoo of a happy face. The top part was covered by your lacy black boyshorts but there was no denying what it was. All eyes turned to Happy shocked and slightly impressed.

"No fuckin way." Jax laughed and Chibs let out an impressed whistle.

"You do that to your girl, Happy?" Tig continued a huge smile stretched across his face.

Happy glared back at the men, pissed that they had been staring at your ass in the first place. He was silent for a second thinking over Tig's words and a smirk crossed his lips finally. "Oh hell yeah."

Laughter erupted from the men just as you finished talking with the firefighter and turned to walk back towards the group.

"Clay there is a laundry list of fire hazards that need to be fixed-" you cut yourself off as you took in all of their wide taunting smiles. "What?"

"Come here, baby." Happy called out reaching for you. Eyes narrowed and watching the men carefully you walked over to where Happy leaned against his bike. He turned you and pulled you between his open legs, your back resting again his chest. His hands moved to rest on your thighs possessively

"We like your ink ______." Jax finally snickered and you frowned for a second unsure of what he meant, knowing that the boys had already seen all of the tattoos that decorated your body. That was except for one. A flush crossed your cheeks and embarrassment filled you.

"Oh my god." Was all you could think to mutter and you could fell Happy's chest rumble with laughter. You jabbed an elbow back into him and more laughter was all that you were met with.

It was at this point Gemma came walking up, having caught just the tail end of the conversation.

"What's going on?"

"_____'s got a-" Tig started at the same time you rushed to say 'nothing'

Tig looked back amused and you sent him a stern look to hush but you knew his mouth would be running the moment you weren’t around. Gemma only rolled her eyes before calling Clay over presumably to talk about what to do next and you narrowed your eyes at the rest of the men daring them to say anything else. Of course, the towering man begins you was also a convincing reason for them to keep their mouths shut but the smirks didn’t leave their lips.

Happy finally patted your thighs motioning for you to move. You stood up from where you had been leaned back against him. He followed suit after you took a few steps away and rose to his towering height.

"I'm going to get dressed." You announced turning around to face him.

The damage has thankfully only been limited to the kitchen and was, considering the circumstances, fairly minimal. The fire department had finally green-lighted entering the building.

Happy only grunted in response, nodding and you smiled beginning to walk away.

You didn't get very far before you felt him being an open palm against your left ass cheek. A small squeal left you at the momentary sting that followed and you whirled around to glare at him although there was no heat in your gaze.

"What was that for?"

"Mine." Was his all he responded with bluntly. And you rolled your eyes at his stake of claim.

"You're barbaric, Lowman." You snorted, you ass still stinging and you knew a red mark was probably forming not that you really minded much. Although yet another flush filled your cheeks as you realized that the sharp sound had attracted everyone's attention.

"You love it." He grinned and a small smirk crossed your lips as you bit your lip and reached a hand out to him.

"You know it." You teased back and he looked at the open invitation you reached out to him.

He took it finally and pulled you closer, his voice lower when he spoke again.

"What's the matter, little girl? Need help getting dressed?" His voice was husk and eyes dark and you were thankful that he spoke low enough for only the two of you to hear.

"Something like that." You whispered back trying not to show how much his words affected you but he saw through it.

"After you." He finally said and you grinned pulling on his hand once more as you tugged him along with you. Happy stood from his bike and followed. A few wolf whistles filled the air as the guys watched the two of you walk away.

"Oh and let me catch any of you fuckers starring at my girl's ass again and I'll gut you." Happy turned around and called out.

You glanced back in time to see a majority of the guys throw their hands up in defense and you piped up once again.

"Aww come on Hap, can't blame them for enjoying the view." You joked shaking your hips for added effect. It was at that point that Happy let go of your hands and rushed towards you quickly. He scooped you up with ease and before you knew it you were thrown over his shoulder.

Apparently, It was going to be a good morning after all.