#lets hope they dont end up in the seine

[ugartecoco]

lost their way to the pool it seems

[rillils]

bucky on the run

steve is looking for him

they meet

they talk

bucky: i can get by on my own

steve: you dont have to

NONNIE!! I'm so sorry it took me a few days to reply to this, but NONNIE, NONNIE YOU'RE A GENIUS 💕💕💕 Please forgive me, I just couldn't resist 🥺 A little post-catws fic, 2404 words, just because.

*

It’s not until Paris that Bucky takes pity on him.

Maybe he only does it because it’s the ass-freezing end of January; and he still remembers, sometimes, how the cold used to make him softer before. How his body would know with the first chill – that it was time to hold, now, to open his arms; make his chest into a welcoming haven for the slim shape curled up on the other side of the bed.

Maybe he does it because Steve’s sitting on his doorstep, ass glued to the frosty stone and long legs gathered up to his chest, not like the (mostly) inconspicuous spy Natalia taught him to be, but rather like a sad puppy left out in the rain. Knowing, of course, that Bucky would see him long before he even realized that Bucky was near; accepting that Bucky could turn on his heel and disappear without a word, and still giving him the choice. Sentimental fuck.

Steve stands up the moment he sees him, white sprays of snow still settled over his hunched shoulders, like he’s the saddest gargoyle on the roofs of Notre Dame. Bucky wants to dust it off for him, cover Steve’s wind-burned cheeks with his hands and warm the red tip of his nose with a kiss.

He stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets instead, watches Steve’s breaths puff soft clouds of steam from his lips.

“Rogers,” he says. Walking around in this cold with your ears all bare like that? Your Ma would kill us both.

“I just want to talk.” Steve swallows. “Please.”

Bucky makes him wait. One second. I’m getting you a fucking beanie, just you wait and see. Two seconds. Earmuffs too. Pink. And fluffy. Pink and fluffy.

“Come on, then,” he nudges, snow crunching under his boots as he steps back. “I’ll let you buy me coffee.”

-

The café’s toasty warmth is tempting, really. But Bucky’s not ready to sit at one of those cozy little tables with Steve, in the direct line of fire of Steve’s hopeful golden retriever eyes, bumping knees with him like two kids on a date. Which is why they end up with coffee to go and a side view of the Seine.

The promenade is quiet when they stop to lean against the railing, only the occasional passersby disturbing the fresh snow with the muffled crush, crush, crush of their footsteps.

Steve is quiet, too. His gaze is fixed vaguely on the murky waters as he takes a small sip of coffee, rosy tongue wetting the seam of his lips, and maybe Bucky wasn’t ready for this, either. For Steve’s presence beside him. For the way he still curves his shoulders and hangs his head somewhat, tries to make himself small, irrelevant, as if the very fact of him didn’t brighten up every inch of space he occupies in this world. As if he didn’t carry the whole of this universe in his heart and a handful of stars in his eyes.

No, Bucky was not ready for this.

“You know, you almost got me. In Calgary,” he says, his voice only the tiniest bit raspy. “Just barely missed me in Lisbon, too, if I’m being honest. Bristol, maybe.”

Steve turns his head to him, Sirius and the North Star twinkling in the pure blue of his eyes, and seriously, how fair is that.

“Cyprus, too?” He tries softly, a smile already curling up the corner of his mouth.

“Sure,” Bucky finds himself saying, then purposefully burns his tongue with his first mouthful of latte. “Sure, Cyprus too.”

Steve nods, grinning down at the paper cup cradled in both of his gloveless hands. His pale knuckles are purpling quickly in the cold, and Bucky only just keeps himself from scoffing. Always such a martyr, sweetheart.

“Yeah, yeah, stop looking so smug.” Steve does not stop looking so smug. If anything, he smiles brighter, a nice little flash of teeth, and the apples of his cheeks grow pinker against his fine eyelashes.

Bucky’s fingers itch to touch, right there, oh, right there. He could run the pad his thumb over the delicate halfmoon under Steve’s eye, feel the heat of his skin – the faint brush of Steve’s eyelashes against his fingertip, ticklish, like the flutter of butterfly wings.

God. Not ready for this. Never fucking ready for this. “Thought I told you to stop coming after me, anyways.”

Steve snorts. “Oh, yeah.” He unzips his jacket and slips one hand inside, producing a little scrap of paper from an inner pocket. He unfolds it carefully, revealing the yellow tint of a post-it note, the quick scrawl inside spelling out Quit it, Rogers. “Yeah, I got your message.”

It’s the way he says it, soft and endeared, that makes Bucky’s skin feel flayed raw. The way Steve smooths his thumb over the smudged black ink, and holds the folded note in his fist for a long, long moment before tucking it away again, that makes this pang of longing poke like a knife into the most tender parts of Bucky’s heart.

Of course Steve kept it. A sticky square of paper Bucky left behind in Nice – or was it Marseille? – some four months ago, all of three words scribbled in one of those strong-smelling markers, just because Bucky didn’t have anything better at hand. Of course Steve would keep it, carry it in his breast pocket and sigh over it, perhaps seek comfort in it, as if it was a damn love letter. The mere thought of it makes Bucky’s chest burn with guilt.

(Maybe he should have left him a love letter. Should have torn a page off his notebook, one of the dozens filled with Steve, Steve, and words for Steve, words about Steve, words he’ll never say to Steve, words he should whisper against Steve’s lips someday, like I remember the warmth of your breath on my skin, and God but I love youand Did your kisses always taste like peaches and butter or was it just the one time, ‘cause I can still taste you in my dreams at night.) (Steve deserved more. Steve always deserved more than life gave him.)

“You never could take a hint, could you.”

“Not for anything,” Steve says. “Not when it comes to you.”

Bucky honest-to-god sighs, and watches the warm ghost of his breath fade into the cold morning air.

He hasn’t smoked since nineteen-forty-five, but God does he wish he could feel the familiar weight of a cigarette between his fingers right now; taste the grounding bitterness of smoke on his tongue when he turns to Steve, says, “What’s it gonna take for you to go home, Steve?”, because now he’s gone and put that look in Steve’s eyes, and he can’t face this alone, God help him, he ain’t got the strength for it.

“There’s no home without you, Buck.”

And it would– Jesus, it would hurt less if Steve didn’t mean it. But he does, he means it, heart in his hand and soulful eyes and all, and it’s so unbearable, Bucky wants to throw his fucking arms around Steve’s fucking neck and stay tucked there for fucking ever, that’s how bad it, how bad it makes him ache.

His foot takes an instinctive step back, flesh hand clenching dangerously around his latte.

“Don’t say that, don’t– Don’t make it difficult, Steve, fuck.”

“Then don’t ask me,” Steve says, gentle and steady, like Bucky can’t see the sheen of unshed tears in his eyes already. “If you don’t wanna hear me say it, don’t ask me. But it’s the truth. You gotta know that, Buck. ’S the only truth I never doubted in my life. You and home, that’s one and the same to me. Always has been.”

So earnest, his boy. His sweet, sweet boy.

All these years and Bucky still hasn’t figured out how Steve does it – how he manages to lay himself bare like this, and still have Bucky feel like he’s the one being cut open and bleeding love all over the place. Fuck you, you’re the only home I want to come back to, he wants to say. You’re too good, honey, wish I could keep you, he wants to say. I shouldn’t be allowed to keep you.

“If I asked you to leave,” he starts, swallowing past the thickness in his throat. “If I said that I don’t want you around.”

Steve’s whole body turns to face him; the whole mountain slope of his shoulders, the spun gold of his hair, the crease between his eyebrows that Sarah always said was made to be kissed goodnight.

“You’d have to mean it, Buck,” Steve says, love fierce in his eyes, his coffee forgotten at his side, “You’d have to mean it. ‘Cause the only way I’m turning my back on you, is if you look me in the eye and tell me that you never want to see me again, and mean it with everything you’ve got.”

And really, with all his talk of justice and fair fights, you’d think he’d at least give Bucky a chance. But the second Bucky meets Steve’s gaze, all he can do is sit back and watch his best intentions crumble in his hands like a fucking granola bar, one pathetic little piece at a time.

“And if I said–” Don’t cry, motherfucker don’t cry. “–said that I don’t need you.”

“I know you don’t.” Christ, but that one hurts. Hurts to hear Steve say is so simply, so matter-of-factly, like it’s a basic notion he’s been holding onto forever, and Please, please tell me that you don’t actually believe that, God. “But I need you. I need–” Steve’s free hand twitches, almost, almost reaches out, Bucky can see it – see the faltering of Steve’s breath, the long line of his body swaying just so into Bucky’s space before he reins himself in again. “I need to know that you’re safe,” Steve finishes eventually. “That you will be safe, even when I’m not around.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches minutely. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” Steve agrees, easy as anything, his voice soft like a coating of fresh snow. Bucky hates him so much. So much.

“I can get by on my own,” he rasps, and he could have tried to make it ugly, make it cruel, but it wouldn’t have made a single speck of a difference. Not with Steve so close he can smell the minty undertone of his aftershave. Not with Steve’s eyes so gentle they make his throat feel tight, and full, and raw.

Somewhere in a corner of his mind, he hears the words before Steve even utters them.

“But you don’t have to, Buck. You don’t have to.”

The latte slips from Bucky’s fingers and splashes between their feet with a muffled thump, and he wonders, briefly, if the Parisians will come for his head for defiling their precious streets – he would even feel sorry, really, if it wasn’t for the heartbeat pounding in his ears, or the sting of salt burning just behind his eyes.

“Goddammit, Steve,” he snarls, with his hands fisted in the lapels of Steve’s jacket and this ache, this ache thrumming behind his ribs, “I don’t need you– here, making a target of yourself because of me, risking your neck for me, again–”

Steve. Steve just smiles at him. Drops his own coffee on the French, slushy ground and fits his big bear paws around Bucky’s face, cupping his cheeks with a tenderness so vast, it makes Bucky’s heart hurt just to witness it.

“’S my own neck, Buck. I can do whatever I damn well please with it.”

His hands are so cold, and Bucky has missed them so, so much, so much, God.

Damn him. Damn him and the snowflakes caught in his eyelashes and the golden halo of his hair, and the grooves of his palms where Bucky’s jaw slots in so perfectly, as if they were but pieces carved out of each other.

“Go back to your life,” Bucky tries miserably.

Steve’s thumbs smooth over his cheekbones, wiping away tears Bucky hasn’t even shed yet.

“It’s barely even life without you.”

Bucky sniffles pitifully. “Go back to your friends, then.”

Steve leans in close, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s brow. His lips are warm, but the tip of his nose is a tender pinprick of cold against Bucky’s hairline.

“They’re not the same as you. No one will ever be the same as you.” He covers Bucky’s hand with his own, holding it to his chest where it’s still clutching at his jacket. “There’s a place for you right here, see,” Steve says, and his voice, his voice trembles, “center of my heart, Buck, shaped like you, wantin’ you, and nobody else can quite fit.”

And. And it’s the look in his eyes, you know.

The one that turned British lady heads, and made tired soldiers throw themselves back onto the battlefield right along with him; the one that put the soul back into a hollowed machine, and nearly landed Steve at the bottom of the Potomac for it.

Bucky was powerless against it then, and he is now, too; so he does the one thing he’s been wanting to do all along. He surrenders. Steps into the coffee puddle at Steve’s feet and lets Steve meld them together, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, his own gloved hands grasping at the back of Steve’s coat while Steve curls icy fingers over the nape of his neck.

“You really are just a stubborn fuck, aren’t you,” Bucky all but whimpers.

Steve chuckles; the wetness of his breath feels like a kiss against Bucky’s skin. “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

It’s quiet; so quiet, Bucky swears he can hear his heart beat within, feel each individual du-dum, du-dum, du-dum, safe and steady in his chest. Alive. He feels– alive.

“I don’t want you to go,” he murmurs.

“So I won’t go,” Steve murmurs back.

“I want you to stay.” Stay. Stay. Stay, his heart keeps beating.

Steve kisses his cheek. His nose. The arch of his eyebrow. “So I’ll stay.”

“I need you. I do. Stevie–”

Steve’s mouth doesn’t taste like peaches and butter today, but coffee will do just fine.

Yeah, coffee will do just fine.

[o-wyrmlight]

hii i saw u reblogged my drawings and u also wanted ppl to talk to you abt cacao so here's a two in one lol. first tysm for liking my drawings and for getting what i was trying to go for in the "la seine" ones, i got so excited when i saw what u wrote in the tags dfxcx but yea thats exactly it, cacao meets vanilla, they're happy together for a while but then the war happens, cacao loses vanilla and he's right back where he started before he met him. im really looking forward to see more of the story on cacao's side of things, and i do think vanilla's influenced him somewhat in some way. whether that is in being just a bit happier around vanilla compared to the other ancients or just him locking himself in his castle after the war. i dont wanna go full shippy on that theory lol. honestly what i want most though is for cacao and choco to get closure and maybe just maybe for cacao to reunite w vanilla and holly but idk if thatll happen. either way im so excited to have him in the game! and also, the song i used in the "la seine" drawings is "La seine and me" from the movie A monster in Paris :) sorry for rambling i just love dark cacao rn

You're super valid!!! It's super sad in your art that he started off alone and ended up alone. The poor lad. He can use some company.

I honestly really like the idea of Dark Cacao being closest to Pure Vanilla out of all of the ancients just because of how different they are. It's one of those cases of opposites attract', albeit not necessarily with romantic undertones. I also really enjoy them having a very close platonic that's. Surprisingly beneficial to both of them.

I really do hope that at some point, the ancients will end up reuniting. That way we can see a bit about how their dynamic plays out, though that'd probably be an endgame scenario. (Specifically, I really want to see how Pure Vanilla and Dark Cacao interact in canon, but considering Pure Vanilla and Hollyberry didn't meet up again if I'm remembering correctly, the possibility is... Let's be real, it's unlikely.)

But!! I do want to see how Dark Cacao has been handling his remorse for his son. Has he been struggling to keep the kingdom together, or has he been losing himself to remorse and staying within the Black Citadel? And would he forgive Dark Choco, were he to make a return? Will Dark Choco be forgiven? I hope so--though he was the hand that destroyed the kingdom, it wasn't by way of his own mind.

(I shall!!! Look up that song and give it a listen or two!!!)

[hereidinathoreauwrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV), Come From Away - Sankoff & Hein Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Joan Characters: Zoey Clarke, Joan (Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist), Annette (Come From Away), Beulah Davis, Beverley Bass, Claude Elliott Additional Tags: Crossover, Angst and Tragedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, two people end up stuck together somewhere and oops they're in love, Developing Relationship, mentions of 9/11, the author is clearly just mashing together two things they very much enjoy and seeing what happens, Zoey and Joan are closer in age, college!Zoey, Gander (Come From Away), References to Come From Away Summary:

For Zoey, it was a return home from a study abroad program, back for her final semester at San Francisco State. For Joan, it was a business trip meant to fix her marriage from imminent destruction.

But when history crashed across the world on that fateful day, their lives were thrown together as they took refuge in Newfoundland and tried to cope with tragedies personal and global.

ZEP and Come From Away crossover. Because I said so.

She just wanted to get home.

Zoey Clarke tripped on her way to her seat, nearly smacking an angry-looking dark-haired first-class woman in the face. Mumbling an apology for the near-mishap, Zoey darted towards Economy, face burning.

It had been six months. Six glorious months of baguettes, and croissants, and the view across the Seine, and coding with her French classmates in two languages until the early hours of the morning. But she was finally going back home to California.

Zoey finally settled into her seat (an aisle seat) and threw her backpack into the overhead. She carefully tucked her computer case under the seat in front of her.

She’d barely settled herself before the cabin address began.

 “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome aboard this American Airlines flight 846 nonstop service from Paris to Los Angeles. My name is Captain Bass. We have an estimated flight time today of roughly 11 and a half hours and we are due to arrive in LA at 2pm local time on Tuesday, September 11th. Please sit back and enjoy your flight.”

Zoey closed her eyes as they taxied; nervous but a small part of her relieved.

She’d be home soon.

***

Meet you in LA.

Joan Bennett scowled at the SMS on her phone screen. That’s it. That was all he’d been able to muster up. Skipping out on their anniversary in Paris entirely for some stupid reason. He hadn’t even called.

She sat back in her seat as the cabin address came on, eyes already closing as the standard pre-flight information was given.

LA was his last chance. If Charlie couldn’t buck up and actually give a damn about their marriage this time she was going to…

Joan pursed her lips, resolve faltering. You’d be all alone. Despite his many, many shortcomings, Charlie was still a warm body alongside hers (on the nights he was actually home). He was still a partner in this unfriendly world. And the thought of being without him…

She drifted into an uneasy sleep as they took off towards America. Towards the man she didn’t know how to love.

 “L…ladies and g…gentlemen…p..please, please fasten your seatbelts and put your tray tables up…we are preparing to land.”

Zoey blinked awake, confused. Were they in LA already?

Glancing around, she saw several others looking just as confused as she was. Zoey glanced at her watch. It had barely been five hours since they’d left Paris.

“What’s happening?” She asked the man next to her.

He just shook his head.

Zoey tightened her seatbelt and sat back, heart racing as the plane began a slow descent. She glanced over her neighbors and saw a tiny strip of land surrounded by vast ocean.

They weren’t falling. But something about this just didn’t quite feel right.

***

The plane touched down and Joan stared out the window. This wasn’t LAX. It was some rundown airport surrounded by trees.

“Where the hell are we?” She demanded.

“Newfoundland.” The flight attendant informed her, seeming distracted. “Nothing to worry about madam.”

“Any idea when we’ll be on our way?”

But the woman didn’t answer her. She vanished into the cockpit.

Joan heard hushed voices and some kind of chatter on the pilot’s radio.

She frowned and pulled out her cell phone.

As she dialed a number, she glanced out the window again.

It was then that she registered the dozens of other planes lined up in haphazard rows. And the long line of cars beyond the airport, stretching out along the winding country road.

What was going on?

***

Seven hours later, Zoey felt like she was losing her mind. She’d tried to ask the flight attendants questions or chat with her neighbor but no one seemed to know anything or be willing to share if they did. No one around her had a phone so she couldn’t even call her parents to let them know about the delay.

Her unease had only grown when the captain announced that complimentary drinks were going to be provided. Alcoholic drinks.

In Zoey’s limited experience, businesses only gave alcohol away on holidays and during the shittiest of circumstances. She doubted it was a holiday in…wherever-they-were Newfoundland.

As her fellow passengers got drunker, they got louder. And the plane only got hotter and more stifling.

An hour after the drinks, someone finally cracked open the airplane door. It did little overall but something was better than nothing at this rate.

Zoey couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to move. She needed to plug herself into her code and block out all this madness.

Her neighbor had joined the drunken revelry at the back a half hour ago. Scooping up her computer, Zoey wriggled out of her seat and made her way towards first class. There might be more leg room up there at least. And it was further from the drunk singing.

***

Joan wanted to kill somebody. They’d been sitting on the ground for over seven hours by this point, not including the five hour flight beforehand. And still, no one was telling them what was going on.

At least the free vodka was taking some of the edge off. But if she didn’t get off this plane soon, she was going to lose her mind. Or strangle a flight attendant.

“Excuse me…?”

Joan turned and saw the klutzy redhead from earlier pointing at the empty seat beside her. “Do…do you mind if I sit here? I need to get some work done and the back of the plane is filled with a lot of singing drunk people.”

Joan eyed the stranger, seizing her up. She was younger than Joan by maybe a decade and looked even younger in her bright shirt. An even brighter cardigan was tied around her waist. Her smile was soft and hesitant, like she was afraid to offend or even exist.

Joan shrugged. “No, of course not.” She was way past the point of caring. They were stuck in a plane in the middle of nowhere. Not like things could get much worse.

The woman took Charlie’s empty seat, giving Joan a soft smile.

“I’m Zoey.” She was clutching a laptop like it was a lifeline. That was the only reason Joan engaged with her.

“Joan.” She replied.

“H…how are you doing?” Zoey asked, her face pinching in concern.

Joan sighed. “Wish I knew what was happening.” She bit her lip and swigged the rest of her vodka miniature. “And worried about someone who was flying today…I wish I could tell him I’m in…Iceland!”

“Newfoundland.” Zoey’s face immediately fell as Joan rounded on her at the correction. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to correct you!” The young woman gave a sheepish smile. “I’m hoping you’re one of those people who laugh when awkward people say stupid things.”

Joan couldn’t help but smile. “It’s fine. Don’t mind me, I’m just frustrated.”

Zoey nodded and Joan had to admire her empathy, especially under these circumstances. “Where were you coming from?” Zoey inquired.

“London.”

Zoey tilted her head, interest apparently piqued. “Really? You dont have an accent!”

Joan laughed. “I’m not from there…I’m…just working there. I haven’t developed the accent yet.” She gestured at the laptop. “How about you? What are you working on?” She normally wasn’t one for small talk, especially with strangers. But there was literally nothing else to do at this point so why not? Besides, Zoey wasn’t the worst option on the plane. Not by a long shot.

Zoey blushed and placed her laptop on the tray-table. It was a fairly expensive model but a few years old and clearly well-loved. “I’m actually a student.” She admitted. “Senior at San Fran State. I was coming back from a semester abroad in Paris. I’m studying computer science with a minor in languages.”

“Really?” Joan found herself turning towards the young woman, actually interested. What were the odds? “What are you going to do with that?”

Zoey gestured at the computer. “I’m working on my thesis: a piece of software for instant translations on emails and instant messages. I’m starting with English to French but hopefully I’ll be able to expand it.”

Joan was intrigued. “Well…this may be your lucky day…” She smiled. “I work for Google.”

Zoey’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

The next two hours flew by. They talked about everything: job prospects at Google, the finer coding points of Zoey’s software, life in London, and dog breeds. For a time, they were both able to put aside the trepidation and frustration of the long wait inside the plane.

They only stopped when the captain turned on the intercom and the voice of the president filtered through the plane.

 “My fellow Americans…”

They listened in confusion at his words: talk of victims and brave Americans rescuing their fellow citizens. Joan bit her lip, worry starting to creep in. What had happened? From the sound of it, some kind of natural disaster or explosion. But there was no way to get information while they were stuck here. Her phone was dead and anyway, there was…no one to call.

Joan turned to Zoey and was startled to see the younger woman trembling.

“Hey…” She gently touched Zoey’s shoulder, unsure if the action was welcome. “Hey, you okay?”

The younger woman smiled in gratitude but it seemed forced. “Joan…I know we just met…but…” She swallowed hard, seeming like she was looking for words. “I just…I’m all alone and I dont know what’s happening and…”

Joan touched her shoulder once more. “It’s fine.” She assured her. “I’m…alone too. You can stick with me until we figure things out.”

Zoey seemed relieved.

***

Joan briefly lost track of Zoey during the madness of disembarkation. The younger woman had slipped back to her seat as they heard they were leaving, needing to grab her bag. For all the long hours they’d been stuck, once word came down that they were finally getting off, leaving took very little time.

Joan was ushered down the aisle before Zoey reappeared. They finally left their plane and were herded through the darkness into the airport.

Joan swore it was older than she was - probably a relic from the Cold War…or World War II. Thankfully, they didn’t spend long inside.

The local soldiers guided them towards a line of school buses; keeping some flights together and splitting others up indiscriminately.

Joan glanced around as she shuffled along, wondering where Zoey had gotten to. Wondering if the vibrant young coder had fallen out of her life already. It was a shame if she had…Joan had rather liked her.

She followed other passengers from her flight onto a bus and claimed a seat about halfway down. It was cramped and squeaky. But at least it wasn’t a plane. She sat there for 20 minutes, one hand on the other half of the seat in a halfhearted attempt to save it.

But just as every other seat on the bus filled up, a familiar redhead climbed aboard. Joan’s heart jumped.

“Zoey!” She stood and waved to her, guiding her towards the empty seat. “I thought we’d lost you.” She was very glad she hadn’t.

Zoey shook her head, clutching her bag in one hand and her laptop case in the other. “No…No I just needed to get an emergency prescription filled….” Her eyes widened and she shook her hands. “N…nothing serious! It’s not like…I’m going to go crazy because I…I’m off my meds…” The younger woman deflated slightly. “I…I’ll stop talking now…”

Joan chuckled. “It’s fine.” It was…kind of endearing actually.

Zoey settled next to her. “Did you find out about your husband?” She asked. “Was he flying today?”

Joan stiffened. “Do you mind if we just dont talk about that?” She had called Charlie moments after they first landed. The conversation had barely lasted a minute before her battery died. He was safe. And he didn’t seem to care about…whatever had happened or wherever she was. But Joan was more concerned with her utter lack of relief about that revelation. Maybe once she knew just what the hell was going on, she would actually feel glad that he was safe. But right now…

“How about you?” She asked Zoey, finding she was genuinely interested in her companion’s state. “Did you manage to get through to your family? In San Francisco?”

Zoey’s face fell. “No. The pay phones were all out of order…and no one had a cell phone…I just…I just wish we knew what was happening!”

Joan was filled with a resolve so intense that it erased all thoughts of her husband. “I know. I’m sorry.” She squeezed Zoey’s shoulder, utterly unconcerned at how quickly that action had become commonplace for them. “I’ll help you find a phone as soon as we get…” She glanced up, out the bus windows and into the darkness surrounding them. “Wherever we’re going…”

Zoey smiled in thanks. They didn’t say much for the rest of the bus ride. But neither did anyone else.

***

The bus took them to a school gymnasium. Hundreds of gym mats, air mattresses, and army cots had been laid out in long rows along the floor. Some had pillows or blankets but most did not. Joan was glad she’d grabbed her airplane blanket but this still looked terrible. Were they really going to be staying here overnight? Surely they could find a better hotel. She’d gladly share with Zoey if it got them both out of here.

A woman greeted them as they ambled in, identifying herself in a thick accent as Beulah, a staff member of the school. She directed them to grab a spot for themselves and that once they were settled, they could come back into the cafeteria and watch the news on several old television sets.

As eager as she was to know just why the hell they were here, Joan decided she’d rather have first pick of the beds.

Through it all, Zoey clung to Joan’s side. She took the air mattress next to Joan’s, tucking her computer between their beds. Joan waited for her while she carefully covered the case with her blanket.

Then they went into the cafeteria.

It seemed like everyone from their flight and beyond was there, crammed into the space, trying to get a glimpse.

Joan managed to push her way through to the front, Zoey trailing behind her.

Then they finally saw.

They all stood there in front of the TVs, taking it all in in stunned silence.

Smoke, steel, dust. A plane appearing out of nowhere and…

Joan couldn’t look away. She felt…lost, untethered. Any sense of safety she’d had the privilege of ignorance about was shattered forever.

The same footage was on an endless loop, like some kind of cruel flipbook. It should have been a movie. But it wasn’t.

When the first tower fell, a collective gasp went up around the room.

Without thinking, Joan reached for Zoey’s hand. The younger woman was pale and trembling but she gripped Joan’s hand so tightly she felt her tendons re-arrange. In that moment, Joan was so glad the coder had chosen to take Charlie’s seat.

This was a history-defining moment. And all they could do was assure the other that in this moment when they could do nothing, when they were stranded thousands of miles away from all the chaos and death, they were not alone.

Some time later, after someone had turned the news off in frustration, Zoey finally let go of Joan’s hand. She turned away and pushed her way out of the crowd, towards the hallway.

“Zoey?” Joan followed her, unwilling to let her out of her sight again.

She found her collapsed against the wall. The young woman looked shaken, like her world was crumbling.

Joan kneeled beside her and placed her hands on her shoulders. “Zoey, what is it?” She asked, as gently as she could.

Zoey shook her head and swallowed. “My…my brother, David…is in law school in Manhattan…” She looked up, face pale. “What…what if he was there?”

Joan didn’t have an answer for her.

Zoey looked down. She wasn’t crying, it was more like…helplessness. Or a despair so deep it had rendered her unable to move.

Watching her, Joan felt the true weight of their situation settle heavily on her shoulders. They were stuck here in wherever Newfoundland, while there…people were dead, people were dying, the wreckage was burning.

It could have been any of them.

She could have been in the towers, visiting on business like she had been a year ago. The terrorists could have hijacked their flight and flown it off-course. Zoey could have been in Manhattan, visiting her brother. Zoey’s brother could have been on the ground.

They couldn’t do anything…couldn’t call people, couldn’t go home, couldn’t seek revenge, or help the wounded.

Zoey gave a tiny sound, something like a gasp but fainter, more vulnerable.

Joan fixated on it. It was something. Something she could do.

Maybe if she could just help this poor girl find out about her brother, everything would somehow be okay.

***

Zoey barely slept.

It felt like every time she closed her eyes, she was seeing smoke engulfing New York City streets she had walked a mere year before. The sounds of people screaming and sirens blaring echoed in her head. The creaking of her air mattress sounded too similar to the crunch of concrete.

Finally, she gave up. Wrapping herself in Joan’s airplane blanket, she staggered towards the gym doors and forced one open. A blast of cool Canadian air whipped past her, bringing her body back here, back to this strange place. Far away from there. Far away from David.

Wherever he was.

Her lip trembled as she thought of him. When was the last time she’d called? The last time she’d said she loved him? When had she last heard him laugh? Why hadn’t she cherished those moments?

The cold had stopped helping.

Now it was inside her. It was consuming her.

***

As dawn broke, a woman named Annette brought Zoey a cup of coffee. She was sitting in a chair by the edge of the room, exhausted and still lost in horrible thoughts about David. Joan was nowhere in sight, having slipped out early in the morning for unknown reasons. Zoey missed her.

“Mornin’ hun.” Annette greeted, “you hungry? We got breakfast down in the cafeteria.”

Zoey shook her head. Her stomach was empty but the thought of food nauseated her. And the televisions were still on in the cafeteria.

“Well then, do you need to change?” Annette asked, “I can get you some clean clothes if you want.”

Zoey almost refused but then she realized that these were the same clothes she’d put on the day before yesterday, underwear and all. Suddenly, it felt like they were melding into her skin. She nodded and Annette patted her on the hand before getting up to grab her a change of clothes.

It was a relief she hadn’t known she needed. But at the same time, the strangeness of it just made her miss home even more. And think about how far away she was from David and from San Francisco.

Zoey had just finished putting on the fresh underwear, slightly too big jeans, and was pulling on a plaid shirt that clashed horribly with her hair when Joan finally returned.

The older woman cocked her head at the outfit but all she said was: “Is your hair different? You look good.”

Zoey chuckled, fingering the hasty ponytail. “Thanks. It’s just super unwashed…” She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling like a different person. “Are we leaving?”

Joan shrugged. “No one seems to know.” She was still wearing the same clothes from the plane and she was fiddling with something in her pocket. Her hair was also pulled back but into a severe bun that Zoey immediately envied. Zoey opened her mouth to tell her about the free clothes but Joan seemed preoccupied. She jerked her head towards the door Zoey had stood in front of the night before. “Zoey, come with me…”

Joan led her outside the building, one hand in her pocket, the other clutching Zoey’s tightly. Zoey followed, silent but alert.

As they stood in the chilly air, Joan finally pulled out her other hand.

A cell phone. A fancy, expensive, international phone.

Zoey gasped, eyes sliding from the device to Joan’s face.

“I finally got a chance to charge it.” Joan said, sounding apologetic. “I…I wanted to make sure you got to use it first, before I offer it to the others.” She held it out to Zoey. “Go on, check on your family. I’ll be just inside if you need me.”

Hands shaking, Zoey took the phone. Her stomach was in knots.

“Wait,” She called as Joan turned to go inside. “Stay? Please?”

Joan nodded. She took a few steps back, far enough to give Zoey some privacy but never letting her out of her sight.

Her heart thrumming, Zoey dialed the number.

***

Joan watched intently as the coder used her phone. Her eyes traced Zoey’s path as she spoke rapidly with someone on the other end. She folded her arms tightly as Zoey stopped pacing and her face pinched with sympathy as she saw the young woman place a hand over her chest.

After a few moments, Zoey hung up and made her way back to Joan.

She braced herself.

“He’s…he’s okay…” Zoey let out a shaky breath. “David he…he’s with my parents in San Francisco…he wasn’t in New York when it…” Her lip trembled, a single tear dripping down her face.

Unsure what else to do, Joan only held out her arms.

Zoey fell into her embrace, her small form shaking with relief as she sobbed.

***

The next two days were torturous.

There was nothing to do. Nothing but wait. Wait for a phone to be available in the hallway. Wait for the news to show the clips again. Wait for the word that they were leaving.

While knowing that her family was safe had taken some of the edge off, Zoey still found herself anxious, jumpy and unable to sleep. She stuck by Joan like a barnacle.

Joan seemed to notice and would try to distract her. On the second morning, after finally managing to stomach some food, they risked going outside for a walk and explored the town together. Joan had finally caved and accepted a gift of clothing from Annette. She was bundled up in a sweater that was far too large for her and jeans she constantly complained about. They talked more about Zoey’s thesis, about Joan’s favorite parts of London. Anything but the dark cloud hanging over the world.

For a brief moment, Zoey convinced her to open up about her husband and learned the sad truth: after 6 years of marriage, Joan was getting divorced.

Joan didn’t seem sad about it.

Some of the local kids invited them into a yard they passed and spent an hour playing with Zoey’s hair, putting her messy locks into braids and plaits. The youngest of them eventually convinced Joan to sit and receive a single sloppy braid. Zoey had to laugh at the ridiculous hairstyle. Joan did not take the braid out.

As they walked back to the school in the quickly dwindling sunlight, Zoey reached for Joan’s hand again. Joan took it without a second thought, her thumb rubbing Zoey’s hand soothingly.

It was a simple gesture. But to Zoey, it grounded her here.

She barely knew this woman. But she was here. And she was amazing. She’d spent all day just talking to her, distracting her from the horrible state of the world and the remote location they were stranded in.

Zoey hated to think that Joan would tire of her and leave her all alone again. She desperately tried to think of ways to pay the woman back for her attention and came up blank.

She didn’t want to be alone. And she didn’t want Joan to be alone.

But was that enough?

***

The following night, (after another day spent walking with Zoey, this time along the coast) Beulah invited them all down to the local Legion building for “some drinking and some fun.” Which was probably a good call: there had been several loud arguments over phones that day and even a brief fight between several of the passengers. Everyone was on edge and stuck in place. A little drinking could only help at this rate.

Joan wasn’t going to go; it didn’t feel right with everything that was happening. She didn’t want to celebrate: she’d finally decided that her marriage (it it had ever really been that) was over. She’d be going back to London alone if all this ever ended - to an empty flat and a demanding job and a cold bed. It felt wrong to be upset or even happy over such a thing when the world was still reeling from Tuesday.

But then Zoey piped up and said: “I’m only going if Joan is going!” and just like that, she was slipping on her borrowed shoes (heels only got a woman so far in this place) and following the crowd down towards the Legion building. As soon as she stepped inside, Joan knew it had been the right choice.

The night was insanity in the best way. Over 400 people from all over the world were celebrating together: drinking, dancing, even swimming in the river! And then the instruments came out.

Joan had never particularly cared for fiddles or accordions. But after two beers, she forgot that.

Lost with Zoey among the strangers from around the world, Joan forgot all about her aversion to dancing and her image: she tore up the dance floor with jig after mindless jig. Of course, the fact that Zoey was pulling her along and laughing and holding her hands certainly helped with that.

It was a new feeling for Joan: enjoying spending time with someone. And having someone enjoy spending time with her. Charlie had never seemed to care for their date nights, he more put up with them for the promise of sex.

But Zoey clearly enjoyed being here. And more importantly, she enjoyed being her with her. So Joan let loose.

As the night went on, the locals decided it was time for a ceremony.

“We needs a couple of volunteers!” Mayor Claude declared, “Who wants to be Newfoundlanders?”

Zoey snatched Joan’s arm and dragged her forward, not giving Joan enough time to bring her drink along. “Us!” Zoey cried, “we wanna be Newfoundlanders!!”

Joan, already a little tipsy and way too engaged in Zoey’s enthusiasm could only nod along.

Claude beamed at them. “Where are you two from?” He asked.

“California!” Zoey shouted, drowning out Joan’s murmured answer.

“What part of California are you from, ma’am?” Claude asked Joan.

“No! No!” Zoey waved her hands. “I’m from California.” She pointed at Joan. “She’s in England!”

Claude chuckled, “wait…now how does that work?”

“How does…what work?” Joan asked.

“Well how does your marriage work?” Claude inquired, “with one of you in California and the other in England?”

Zoey and Joan exchanged a quick glance, both of their faces red. Joan only just realized how close together they were standing. And in borrowed clothes and no makeup, the age difference between them seemed invisible to onlooking strangers.

“Uhhh...we’re, we’re not married…” Zoey told him. Joan was having trouble forming words.

Claude laughed again. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I thought you were…” He regarded them, seeming to read something in their embarrassed silence. “Well…” He raised an eyebrow at them, “would you like to be?”

Zoey’s face lit up. “Well why not?!” She cried. She seized Joan’s hand and lifted it up into the air. “Whoooooo!!!”

Logically, Joan knew it was the alcohol talking. Zoey herself had said earlier that she’d never had more than one beer at a time before and yet she’d watched the woman down two beers in quick succession that night.

Nevertheless, Joan, her face on fire and a stupid grin that she couldn’t justify on her face, went and got the woman two more beers.

The actual ceremony of becoming a Newfoundlander was a bizarre mix of local culture and sorority hazing.

Joan stuck by Zoey’s side as they sang a long upbeat song, tasted local food, and knocked back a horrific rum that burned her sinuses clean off.

But then came the cod.

It was a large, slimy thing that stared at them with big, dead eyes. Two local men were needed to hold it up.

And to Joan’s horror, the final part of becoming a Newfoundlander was kissing this dead fish.

“I’m not kissing a fish!” She declared.

“I will if you will!” Zoey promised, her face a pleasant shade of red from the alcohol. It was hard to dismiss that face. Joan eyed the thing distastefully as another volunteer puckered their lips and kissed the scales.

But they’d come this far…and it couldn’t be worse than kissing Charlie after sushi night, could it?

“Oh my god…” Closing her eyes, Joan pursed her lips and leaned forward. She pecked as soon as she felt something cool and slimy and darted back, retching.

It was worse. But only barely.

But when her turn came, Zoey balked. “I can’t do it!” She exclaimed, covering her face with her hands.

“Come on, I did it!” Joan protested, elbowing her forward. “Pucker up!”

“You gotta kiss a cod, it’s a vital part of the ceremony!” Claude insisted.

But Zoey backed off again, shaking her head and giggling. “I can’t do it!”

Claude chuckled. “Okay, I tell you what. I’ll make you a deal.” He pointed to the cod. “Either you kiss this fish…” His finger slid to Joan. “Or you kiss this English-woman that you’re ‘not married to’.”

Zoey didn’t even hesitate. In a single motion, she launched herself at the taller woman and wrapped an arm around her waist.

Startled, Joan could only catch her. Since she wasn’t wearing heels, their faces were mere inches apart. Zoey pressed forward. Their lips met and held in a glorious kiss. All around them, the room erupted in yips and cheers.

Zoey broke away after a second, grinning stupidly and completely red in the face. Then, as if nothing had happened, she grabbed Joan’s hand and pulled her back into the crowd of dancers.

Joan couldn’t stop looking at her the rest of the night.

***

The word finally came down early on Saturday: the FAA was going to open the airspace back up.

Captain Bass got in contact with their flight and informed them that they’d be leaving as soon as it was possible so they shouldn’t travel too far from their shelters.

Zoey managed to convince Joan to take one last walk with her. She’d heard about a nearby geologic marvel called the Dover Fault from Annette and thought it might be the perfect last hurrah.

They clambered up what felt like several thousand stairs carved into the cliff, panting and assuring the other that they were okay.

Finally, they crested the edge and gazed out from the overlook. The ocean crashed into the rocky inlet, scouring the ancient rocks.

“This is incredible!” Zoey called. She beckoned Joan forward. “Look! I can’t believe we’re here!” But as she stared at the gorgeous view, Zoey felt her smile start to slip away.

“I can’t believe we’re leaving…” She lamented. It all felt like a dream that was drawing to a close.

“…I don’t want to go…” Joan murmured.

Zoey turned back to her, “What did you say?”

Joan shook her head, smiling. “Oh nothing…I’m going to uh…” she held up her disposable camera that she’d purchased in town. “…to take some pictures.”

Zoey nodded. “O…okay.” She stood aside to give Joan a better shot.

She was a bit of a light-weight but Zoey remembered the night at the Legion in snatches: lively dances, delicious rum, and shouting that she wanted to be married to Joan. She remembered launching herself at Joan out of desperation to not kiss a slimy sea creature. She remembered her stomach and chest filling with fire as their lips met.

But Joan hadn’t said a word about it. Hadn’t even indicated that she remembered any of it. They continued with their walks and their discussions of technology and little things.

They didn’t talk about the kiss.

Zoey realized Joan was still pointing the camera towards her and took another step back. “No…stay where you are!” Joan called, eye still in her camera.

“Really? I’m blocking your shot!”

Joan smiled at her. “It’s perfect.”

The shutter clicked, capturing the moment in time.

Zoey felt like she should say something; tease Joan about her taking her photo or ask her if she had really meant what she’d said.

Staying here…it was a ridiculous idea. They were only here because of…because of the tragedy. They had lives of their own to get back to. But the more she thought about it, standing there on the chilly edge of a cliff on the edge of the Atlantic, going back to her life in California felt…empty.

Logically, she knew that once she was back she wouldn’t feel that way. Her family was there, and her friends, and her thesis that needed completion. There were things she loved and fulfilling work to occupy her time.

But Joan wouldn’t be there.

Zoey stared as Joan slowly lowered her camera, the device whirring to indicate it was out of film.

Joan would return to her incredible job in London, working long hours and finalizing her divorce. As the days returned to normal, she’d forget all about the redheaded college coder she’d briefly known in this place. Zoey knew she was unremarkable; a mere blip in Joan’s life. A chance encounter.

They stared at each other, standing on the edge of this chasm that marked a time when tectonic plates had unexpectedly crashed together and then separated forever.

Zoey never wanted this moment to end. If the world had stopped spinning right then and there, she would be happy.

***

They barely made it out before the hurricane made landfall. Pack-up was hasty and haphazard, with no one sure if they should keep the borrowed clothes and no one knowing how to thank the people of Gander for their incredible compassion and hospitality.

Joan and Zoey scribbled a hasty thank you across the wall closest to where their air mattresses had been. They wrote it in three languages: English, French, and binary code. Then it was back onto the buses and back to the ancient airport.

The winds were picking up and it had begun to rain as Captain Bass taxied the plane down the runway.

No one had cared about assigned seats for the flight back. Joan’s feet had followed Zoey into the Economy class and they had taken two seats in a row near the back. No one joined them in their row. Despite the utter lack of anything resembling personal space, Joan couldn’t have cared less. It was where Zoey was. And that was the only place she wanted to be.

As they picked up speed, Joan reached for Zoey’s hand but recoiled a second before she grabbed it. What was she doing? Trying to hold onto this moment? Trying to stop them from leaving?

It was too late now.

They were leaving. And she was going to return to a newly-empty life a continent and an ocean away from Zoey’s warmth and light.

The first hour of the flight was silent. Zoey kept opening her mouth like she wanted to say something but she never did. Joan didn’t know what to say. Or if she should say anything at all. Every possible thing she could say felt inadequate.

But as Captain Bass gleefully announced over the intercom that they had crossed back into US airspace, Joan glanced over at her companion. Zoey was crying, silently and intensely, as if she just couldn’t stop.

Joan immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned in, aiming for Zoey’s forehead to give her a comforting kiss.

But the plane jostled at the exact moment Zoey turned towards her.

Joan’s lips grazed the corner of Zoey’s mouth instead of her forehead.

Zoey gazed up at her, eyes wide and hopeful.

Her heart leaping, Joan shifted the angle of her mouth.

Their lips met again. And this time, they simply didn’t stop.

They kissed and canoodled for hours at the back of the plane. All around them, Joan was aware of cabin addresses and their fellow passengers drinking and sharing stories of their stay. But all she cared about was Zoey. Wrapping her arms around Zoey, playing with Zoey’s hair, kissing Zoey as often as she could. Zoey was real. These feelings were real. And like the Dover Fault, she would remain real no matter how long it was after they parted ways.

At one point, not long after Captain Bass had announced that they were now flying over California, a flight attendant paused alongside their seats, tongs ready to hand out hot towels.

“Cold towel?” She asked, smirking.

Blushing, Zoey hid her face in Joan’s neck. Joan couldn’t stop smiling.

***

But of course, they had to part ways.

There was a measure of relief among all of them as they safely touched down in LAX. If she was being honest, Zoey had been carrying a tiny knot of fear in her chest the whole flight home, a small part of her convinced their journey would end the same way as all that footage on the news.

But as soon as they were safely on the ground, that knot of fear became a hard ball of dread.

“So…” She faced Joan at the baggage claim, laptop clutched in one hand, the other hand clasped tightly in Joan’s. Zoey knew her family was anxiously waiting outside and that Joan had a connection to send her back across the Atlantic to London leaving soon.

But neither of them wanted to move.

“So…” Joan echoed, trying to smile but failing.

“So, you’ll call?” Zoey asked.

Joan squeezed her hand. “As soon as I get back.”

She leaned forward and pecked Zoey on the lips. Despite the hours of frantic making out they’d done on the plane and the drunken kiss at the Legion, it felt like their first kiss.

Joan smiled one last time and let go of Zoey’s hand.

And then Zoey was all alone.

***

Joan’s flight back to London passed like a dream. Since she’d been hastily rescheduled onto this flight (having missed her original days ago), she was stuck in Economy. And despite the fact that there were literally only six other people on the plane, she still was not permitted to move up to first class. But she hardly cared.

When she finally opened the door to her flat, she swore it had all been a dream.

Her belongings were still exactly as she’d left them, barely any dust to mark the passage of time.

So far away from New York, London bustled about as normal below her window, the fear still internal and existential for now.

But as she unpacked, Joan found the camera.

She dropped everything and ran out to find a 24-hour photo developer.

Within two hours, she held living proof that it wasn’t a dream.

Zoey, standing on the edge of the Dover Fault, her red hair flying in the ocean wind, her smile soft but fondly directed towards the lens.

Joan stroked the print, tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

The flat was so empty.

***

“Hi.”

“Hey”

“How are you?”

“Good…my advisor says if I can finish my report by the end of November, I can graduate as planned.”

“That’s great!”

Zoey paused, unsure what else to say. She would call just before bed, knowing that it was about the time Joan woke up. But life got in the way and the calls had dwindled from a few per week to one per week when they were lucky. And even then, their conversations, which had flowed so effortlessly in person, barely lasted an hour before one of them had to go.

Zoey had found it increasingly difficult to remain optimistic the past few months. Everyone was just so afraid all the time. David had transferred from Manhattan to a California law school, not wanting to be so far away anymore. He’d refused to fly and instead carpooled across the country with his girlfriend Emily. Her parents spoke in hushed voices when they thought she couldn’t hear and her father increasingly watched the news over anything else.

Zoey found herself crying more often and thinking increasingly about how lucky she’d been. But that was always quickly followed by guilt. How dare she celebrate finding Joan and a small bit of happiness in the chaos when so many people were dead?

And while she didn’t feel alone, Zoey still felt unsettled. She’d told her parents about Joan but they still didn’t seem to get it. They hadn’t been in Gander. They hadn’t known the feeling of being stranded and yet feeling at peace amid all the horrors.

“Zoey?” She hadn’t spoken in awhile.

“I…I miss you.” Zoey admitted, her voice small. “I miss Newfoundland. And I know…I know we cant go back but…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. She couldn’t tell Joan how some nights she slipped out of her dorm room and walked to the pier just so she could close her eyes and imagine she was back in Gander, Joan’s hand in hers as they looked out over the ocean. She couldn’t say just how much she needed Joan here - as she had been at the beginning of this terrifying new world - to be at her side and talk to her, hold her hand and provide comfort in the darkness.

Joan listened intently, unsure if Zoey was crying or just at a loss for words. She wanted so badly to be there. Her life since Gander had been nothing but work. Endless hours at Google and a few spare hours with her lawyer. Her flat was starting to feel stifling.

She dreamed of Gander, of long walks with Zoey, of crashing continents and salty air. She longed for a warm embrace, for soft lips on hers. Her thoughts formed dangerous plans that had her terrified. Suddenly nothing of her old life made sense…and she cared nothing for it.

“J…Joan?”

Joan sighed down the line.

They couldn’t do this. It wasn’t going to work if they were a continent apart.

“Zoey…I’m going to move to San Francisco.” She said it softly, giving those dangerous plans more leverage.

Zoey’s breath caught. “Joan…”

She barreled on. “I applied for a transfer to the main Google office…don’t try to change my mind.” Joan beseeched her, knowing Zoey was about to protest. “The divorce papers are signed, my bags can be packed in a week. I’m coming to you. If you’ll have me.” Her voice was heavy with meaning. The kind of meaning that expected an answer.

Zoey let out a shaky exhale, clutching the phone cord tightly in her hand. “Yes. Yes Joan.”

***

 One year later

Joan gazed out over the bands of ancient rock. Now that she was really looking, she could see the bits and pieces that stood out: parts of another that had been left behind during an intimate collision.

“Remember the last time we were here?”

Joan turned to the voice, smiling. “Of course…” She wrapped her arm around the shorter woman, pulling her close as they stared over the Dover Fault. “I never wanted that moment to end.”

Zoey took her hand, finger rubbing the smooth plane of the brand new golden band around Joan’s finger.

“It didn’t.”

Because like the continents, when the world had crashed together in a moment of upheaval, they had found some small, beautiful thing to cherish from the chaos.

[scattered--pages]

For the Lukanette lyrical prompt: "And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't/So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road/And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope/It's a shot in the dark and right at my throat", cause Florence is love

Notes: Ummm, so, I love you?! Because Florence really is love and omg this song ♡ Thank you heaps for this prompt, dear!!

Send me lyrics as a prompt for a Lukanette ficlet or a drabble? ♡

 ________________________________________________________

Shake It Out

Rating: Teen+

Word count: 2759 (okay, whoops, this ended up being longer than I planned  ♡)

_________________________________________________________

About a year and a half has passed since Marinette has received the humbling, but painfully difficult task of being the Guardian of all the Miraculous. It was a role that was exhilarating, beyond exciting, a chance to grow like none other before and it ended up brining far more positive things along than she thought it ever would. However – after a very good start and after almost a year of handling everything somewhat well, Marinette got tired. Stressed. And afraid. And so, this also brought far more negative effects in ways she didn’t really even imagine initially.

Of course, the ever-rising thought of her making a wrong mistake, a bad choice, a slip-up with consequences far too grave and any or all of these resulting in the doom of entire Paris or the fate of the Miraculous, but the consequences she failed to predict were the ones affecting her personal life. Marinette’s life, not that of Ladybug.

 And there were truly moments where the line between the two faded. Where she was suddenly skipping school or being late so much and so often that it reached the level where the principle had to alert her parents and she almost got expelled, all the while being horrified and desperate in finding ways to justify her actions because, of course, she couldn’t say the truth. She could never say the truth about this. Or the time when each new threat arising in the city due to the re-empowered Hawkmoth/Mayura team started suddenly bubbling up so much internal pressure for her that she was forced to find a way to first deal with her own genuine, painful and terrifying panic attacks before she could transform and deal with the actual attack taking place outside.

Or when the more outspoken and brave Ladybug overtook the typical ‘Marinette’ in certain situations of extreme emotional hurt or vulnerability, causing her to distance herself from a few friends of hers due to her growing either too withdrawn from them or, on the other side of this spectrum, to lash out suddenly in select moments of jealousy or even slight anger. Being a Miraculous Guardian at the tender age of now 16 was insanely challenging to say the least and even though this fact only started to truly catch up with her recently, it affected both her and those around her enough to cause an overwhelming amount of worry, anger and frustration from all sides. Except from one person.

And as she paced along the Seine nervously, back and fort, during what was supposed to be a calming walk for her, in her civilian form, this particular calming voice was what snapped her back from her over-thinking mind back to reality.

“Marinette?”

She jumped a bit, even though the voice didn’t really startle or scare her, as much as it simply surprised her.

“Luka? Wh-What are you doing here?”, she wrapped her arms around her, suddenly aware of the slight chill outside, her cardigan far too thin for an early spring evening by the river such as this one.

He smiled a sad, worried smile at this and proceeded to take his jacket off. “My home is right there, remember?”, he teased gently, nodding towards a boat a bit more downstream along the river’s flow as he pulled his jacket around her.

“Oh…!”, Marinette followed the direction with her gaze and her jaw dropped slightly. She didn’t realize she managed to pace back and forth and here and there for so long and so out of focus of reality that she managed to reach all the way to here without even realizing it. “But, n-no, no!”, she attempted to slowly shrug the jacket off, “You’re going to freeze!”, her hands reached to get it off and hand it back to Luka but by placing both of his won hands against her shoulders carefully but firmly with a teasing smile, he made any attempts of detaching said jacket from her body near impossible, to which she even frowned slightly, causing him to instantly chuckle and shake his head.

“I’ll be fine, even without the jacket, I’m wearing a sweater that’s even slightly too warm for my taste, and I’ll honestly feel worse if you freeze when I can do something to help that.”

She exhaled, her expression suddenly that of sorrowful, almost guilty confusion.

“Why are you still putting up with me?”

He simply shrugged, the playful hold on her shoulders easing as he stroke them with his thumbs gently. “Because I care. Because a lot of people care about you and it breaks my heart that you seem to not believe that.”

Her expression now remained the same, as well as the emotions it carried, save for the sad smile that she added to it slowly, her head tilting to the side a bit.

“Except, a) I’ve been horrible to everyone and about pretty much everything lately and b)…”, her gaze flickered to the side a few times, cheekbones reddening in a way that made her grateful for the fact that the streetlight reflecting from the water’s clear surface wasn’t that strong of a light source at all, “… you care about me… differently…”

“You know…”, Luka now returned her sad smile, only it carried a different background entirely, his eyes drifting to the floor while he started to slowly let go of her, “I’m an idiot because I… don’t think I even really asked you if you minded that…” He prepared to step back but, within a second, Marinette’s hands were on his, keeping them in place.

“No, no!”, she was surprised by how quickly and confidently she said that, but a much as it made her face feel like it was completely burning now, she didn’t take it back. “Luka, you… Know I dont.”

And true, he had a reason to believe so. They weren’t in a relationship or anything like that yet, like Kagami and Adrien or Nino and Alya were, not officially, but they were spending majority of their time together, in their civilian forms and, of course, unbeknownst to them, in their Miraculous forms as well. More than that, they grew incredibly close quite fast. To the point that now, almost a year since Marinette made a point to get over Adrien, Adrien was just a friend and an occasional fleeting painful sting at her heart, but the majority of her affection and her emotions were now finally allowed to belong to Luka. To the point that they have already had a couple of brief moments of weakness resulting in a kiss, but nothing more was said or done. And because of the latter fact, because it was nothing more, Luka didn’t dare to be convinced that this was a confirmation of anything or to push or prod, but this time, he felt he needed to push slightly in the opposite direction in order to prevent himself from pushing on in this one.

Still, even after her hands gripped his and she, very determinately, kept him close to her, he didn’t know how to react, instead only staying still for a second, followed up by a barely noticeable quiver of his lower lip as he opened his mouth to speak but found himself unable to. She noticed though.

Her broken smile widened slightly. “I’m… being selfish, actually. There’s this… someone, erm…”, she shook her head, trying desperately to remain as vague as possible, “ …something, taking over my life and my composure a lot for awhile now, very incresingly so, and vou’re the only thing keeping me grounded and sane lately and… always have been one of the few people making me feel safe and sure of myself and, at least due to this, I really don’t want to let you go…”

What she said was a partial lie, but for once, he didn’t catch it.

“So it’s…”, he took a breath and nodded firmly, more as a way to keep himself strong than anything else, “… just because of that…” Suddenly he made sure to quickly continue, “And I want you to know it’s perfectly fine if it is, I’ll still be your fr-”

“No…” It escaped Marinette’s lips without her control. But once again, she didn’t regret it or take it back. This newly found courage paired with an impaired capability of hiding her feelings at least had some good uses, it seemed. “No, it’s not just that.”

Stunned yet again, Luka stayed silent, looking back into her eyes, running her words in his head over and over again to make sure he understood them right this time until a melody reached them, played from a near-by cafe, catching his attention.

And when he looked back at her, he smiled again.

“That… something, that’s keeping you down… You never told me everything, so I’m sorry if I don’t always manage to make you feel better as best as I could…”, she was already prepared to counter him on this immediately, but he simply placed a finger against her lips, “… but there’s something I haven’t tried yet.”

Against his touch, her lips formed a small puzzled frown, which was a vision so beautiful and adorable to him that he could have kissed her right then and there and never let her go.

“You know, one of the best ways to get rid of a lot of negative emotions, expectations or fears…”, letting go of her, he moved away slightly and outstretched one of his hands, “…is dancing.” He cocked his head to the side, asking a question without words.

“Oh, nooo, n-no, no, no… I don’t dance, or to be more precise, I’m quite sure I can’t dance!”

“Everyone can dance”, he shrugged with a soft smile, “I’m not asking you to waltz with me or do the tango”, he grinned and she chuckled, “I’m just asking you to dance.”

She bit her lips, feeling a very slight hesitation… but took his hand, nonetheless.

“Okay…”, she smirked, “Teach me.”

Reciprocating her smirk, he took her hand and slowly pulled her closer until they started moving into almost a slow-dancing kind of way. He spun her around and then back into his arms and there was something about how easily and naturally he did that, something about that gorgeous crooked smile he was giving her, just inches from her face, that made Marinette feel incredibly warm and exhilarated in the way, she came to find, only he could make her feel. But they weren’t at the cool, calming ice rink now. And the breezy spring evening was suddenly not cold enough to keep her as in check as she wanted to keep herself whenever he did something that caused this beautiful, dizzy feeling to arise inside her that quickened her heart and breath.

But, for once, perhaps because she so desperately needed something like this, she didn’t want to fight getting lost in a moment like this one. She craved and needed the way he made her feel, safe and wild at the same time, feeling just secure enough to almost be able to let go completely. Marinette never felt like that. Marinette never acted like that. Not even as Ladybug, not even at the peaks of her confidence. But with him, it just happened. And normally, she would wonder over and over again in her head if he could somehow sense this, how he’s literally driving her crazy in a way, if he thought her to be a foolish, silly girl for letting him affect her this much, especially since she practically rejected him at first and since, ironically, she felt that all of these feelings became immensely obvious and accentuated after she removed any barriers that she once upon a time used to carefully set in front of the emotions that were steadily growing for him because she wanted them kept down and silenced for Adrien. But not now. She moved with him and laughed with him and let him sway and spin her in his arms and she could swear she never felt more alive.

It was a couple’s dance of sorts, the one that they were sharing, but it wasn’t defined by any specific set of steps or movements, more like a combination, actually. And that was the beauty of it, it was just defined by – them. And as the music picked up its tempo and volume slightly and she found herself dipped down in a way that perhaps started teasingly and playfully, she could feel her heart wanting to burst in warm sparks in her chest sparkling and spreading through her torso in a way she didn’t expect so suddenly. It felt like sparks flowing down her body and as it instinctively caused her to bite on her lower lip, she could have sworn that she felt his breathing hitch for a moment. Because the way he leaned over her, pulled her waist against his, much closer and tighter than at the ice rink, as he started to pull her slowly back up, eyes staring into each other without blinking, bodies close to the point she could feel the tempo of his breathing through the movements of his chest against her… It flipped some sort of a switch inside her. Everything has been so wrong and so irredeemable and so wrong lately, the pressure constantly dropped onto her shoulders unbearable and so strong that she was fully convinced she truly couldn’t handle it at all. But now, here, with him, like always, all of her feelings just floated to the surface. Or perhaps rushed, ran and instantly flooded to the surface would be a better description of what she was feeling when he leaned his shoulder down against her, breathing heavily, as two teal eyes peered right inside of her and made her melt. And, for once, Marinette was completely and entirely sure that at least for now, she was enough. She was strong. She was alive. Her skin was burning and the air flowing heavily through her lungs at a tempo she wasn’t used to felt like breathing for the first time in months. There was no way on Earth she was letting this go. There was no way in hell she was suppressing anything tonight. As a rebellion against Hawkmoth wanting to see her destroyed, against people who knew her and were ready to judge or leave her when she was clearly going through something akin to a nightmare, against any residual feelings for Adrien and against this whole nightmare as a whole – Marinette was going to grip paradise tonight, she’s going to be young, and free and hungry and loved and to hell with anything else.

She was fire and she wasn’t blushing or pulling back this time or looking away and still, still Luka was careful and doubtful, his gaze searching hers hopeful but confused. And somehow this, the heart and patience and kindness of the boy in her arms tipped her over the brink and without being able to even control or plan it, her lips crashed against his… And they stayed like that for a second, two, before his lips caressed against her lower lip in a way that caused less than a moment to transpire before her teeth grazed his upper lip with her next kiss, then her tongue, and when his tongue just barely brushed up against hers, her mind seemed to have swerved like she was intoxicated, because the next thing she realized was that her hand was tangled in his hair and grasping at his back, pulling him somehow even closer, closer against her, before he lifted her up, swiftly and effortlessly onto a small half-wall behind them and, oh, it made her want to never let him go. She gripped at the firm shape of the small of his back and one of his palms cupped her face, stroking her lip as he kissed it hungrily, the other running against her outer thigh and something between them must have been electric because they both shivered at the same time and chuckled sweetly against each other’s lips.

There was no care or thought left in her mind other than him. Her head, her heart and her body screamed only Luka. Luka. And only Luka.

Her home.

Her acceptance.

Her freedom.

[ursoself-satisfying]

do you think eugene is maybe scared of long boat trips? i was thinking about it the other day, maybe he plans on going on holiday with his s/o and the only way to go abroad would be on a boat right? but maybe he would get a little (a lot? im not an expert on this) ptsd while being on the boat and his s/o supporting him but not fully understanding because lets be honest, no-one apart from the soldiers fully understand this sort of stuff, and maybe there's another veteran on-board who helps him?

Before we get into it I wanna say I totally agree n that unless u actually have experienced that ur rly not gonna understand what the person is going thru n this applies to all kinds of trauma but just bc u dont understand doesnt mean u cant do ur best to or that u cant still love support n help them handle it n it doesnt mean they're not gr8tful for ur involvement even if u dont understand,, writing for post war eugene is always tricky cus I dont wanna assume ik how any of this goes or the extent of what it entails i havent done this I've barely done any research its heartbreaking tho n unfair n I just wanted to say all that before u get into this cus it's a combo of both asks but also more of a touchy subject than I feel like I've addressed here so that's just a heads up but enjoy!!

Omg eugene my bby

I def think hes still afraid of boats big time,, so when the two of u decide to go abroad for ur honeymoon it's a big decision for u two to make one w lots of beforehand discussions n considering all ur other options but in the end the push of ur families n the pull of the convenience of a boat eases u both into the decision, even tho nothing about it u kno is going to be easy,, Eugene is p nervous cus I mean the nightmares have lessened n u both have been learning how to handle his flashbacks n the like but u had never tried anything like this yet so on one hand it could be a good time to test the waters but on the other hand neither of u have any idea how itll actually go

Even just in the car on the way there he starts to get shakey n then on the dock it gets a bit worse but ur hands r on him somehow the whole time either locked in his or on his leg or arm or stuck in his pocket n that comforts him, ur touch anchors him n keeps him from drifting to worse thoughts it keeps him thinking about u instead,, its till hard tho just thinking about it being back on that boat forcing himself to remember hes going to France n it's not occupied n hes not alone n hes going to get to see the sights w his wonderful wife n thoroughly enjoy those bright French mornings n that it's going to be quiet, no more bombs or raids or alarms just u n him under thin sheets hot n sticky n just together n safe

But first,, the boat

On the boat? It was rough,, every bit of turbulence n every odd sway made him anxious n as much as u tried to entice him to enjoy more of the boats activities like a cabaret show or even just playing some chess out on the deck n tho u could get him out a few times n he did enjoy himself,, he spent most of his time in the cabin trying to ignore the fact he was on a boat at all,, the rest of his time not being coaxed out by u he spent napping in a deck chair w u often lounging beside him n watching over his sleep carefully, also making sure he didnt burn n lathering her exposed skin in sunblock as much as u could as he slept

U two kept busy in the cabin tho I mean it was ur honeymoon after all ;;;))) so he ravaged u as often as he could bc not only were u a comfort but also a distraction,, u did other things as well tho like laying n listening to ur favourite radio shows or playing guitar to him or sketching him or dancing together or once even doing a silly little fashion show where he def tripped after putting on ur heels

He did have a few attacks tho but u had prepared as best u could n even if some of ur cabin took a beating in an outburst u had always managed to talk him down n he spent a lot of time in ur arms

His breakdowns btw would come suddenly when something would trigger him like a sudden movement or a splash against ur window n then he would get angry n scared n become protective of u until his aggression bubbled over into hot tears drowned out by ur soft words of confirmation trying to tell him u were on a modest cruise liner n u were going to Europe n that the guns n the bombs n the tropical climate were all far away n u would pull him into a cold shower w u n he would often (fuck u hard first then) just cling to u n cry until he could calm down n fall asleep n if he stirred in his sleep u would repeat the process until he could sleep soundly

He was gr8tful to finally be off the boat n back on land tho n once in Paris the two of u could rly enjoy ur honeymoon beginning w breaking in ur hotel bed ;;;)))

But then the two of u got to see the Eiffel Tower n the Seine n the Louvre n Notre dame n it was all so amazing!!!! U spent half the time w ur head in ur sketchbook n he spent all his time taking photos of u w ur head in ur sketchbook lol

The photos were brilliant n sweet n excessive n there were def a few of u bare n freshly fucked (pardon my french) w the Parisian skyline out the window behind u, the morning like shining thru ur messy hair like a halo,, but there were also many of him from the perspective of u kneeling over him n many more of both of u playfully holding up the tower or picnicking in front of a cathedral w u plucking at ur guitar or him w a bottle of wine at his lips

It was all v picturesque n romantic n perfect n u thought he deserved nothing less n he thought the same for u ::""))

U spent about 4 weeks there together n he had throughly used his time to fuck u in every way possible n use every toy u brought with but then it was suddenly time to go home n u were concerned about eugene being back on the boat but he seemed less nervous when u got on n he admitted to feeling a lot better after the first trip n this time he actually went out w u n u played board games w other passengers n danced in the halls n sang w the cabaret n he still sunbathed n napped n made love to u n wrecked ur cabin n u still listened to all ur radio shows n drew n sang but ur lives felt more full somehow after this experience

Oh n u def showed off everything u had bought is Paris n as much as he loved that silk dress on u he loved peeling it off u even more ;;;)))

He rly did feel better when u were finally home to ur little cottage for the first time together as a globetrotting married couple ::"")) he felt better that he hadnt handled it nearly as bad as hed expected n urs n his trip abroad left u feeling loved n cultured n more experienced in life plus u both had taken a huge chance n now u were better for it n felt more capable n confident that he was getting better n it was an affirmation that u would take care of him n that u would always be there for him, just as u had said in ur vows ::""))

He was happy to consummate ur new marriage in ur own bed for the first time tho lol n on top of that gr8 feeling it was just gr8 that he felt less held back w u there w him especially after the boat experience

So yeah a quick note I rly do think he would be terrified of ever stepping foot on a boat again n would refuse it n be vvv adamant about not doing it again for a vvv long time but I think he could be worn down n would EVENTUALLY be ok w it but maybe not this fast n tho I dont feel like I go into much detail here he def has a hard time on the boat as well like hes just agitated the whole time n probably was prescribed some medication for it if just some motion or sea sickness meds n maybe anxiety but i would say it prolly makes him drowsy so hes kinda out of it which keeps him calm but doesnt stop certain flashbacks n maybe he lashes out n hurts someone once in a while cus it's incredibly traumatic returning to that environment but anyway yeah he would be v fidgety n not like it but in this scenario hes willing to take a chance given how well hes been recovering n how much he trusts u n how much u have helped him n the option had pull so that's why but rly I dont think irl he would have gone back on a boat anywhere near that soon but this is romantic fiction so ::))

Also I have a v specific image of who eugene is w if u cant tell lol so I'm sorry for that specificity but I'm so whipped for him n his gal I lov sm I hope u enjoy n guys I'm so motivated to finally write out the storyline I have for him I'm gonna finally get out his fic ok I promise

[bites-kms]

La Joie de Vivre: Paris 32mm

Just came from Le Caveau de la Huchette - yes, the jazz club from La-La-Land. I didn’t know this, until I was at the door. I was just looking for a fun place to have a drink or two on a Thursday night and what a joy I found. I literally found the joy of life, or the Parisian way - la joie de vivre.

These people, they were so immerse into the beat, it was très magnifique. Specially there was this one women, with style and grace, short hair, long earrings, long skirt -long according to her age but edgy enough let her wave and move around-, without a bra, laughing and shaking her arms towards the back while killing the dance floor at the beat and rhythm of bebop with his partner, a black man with a white haired afro, with the same big smile and crazy moves as her. It was amazing. I only felt tele transported like this before and it was at Nicky’s, the best Speakeasy bar in Buenos Aires. But this was the real deal: I am in Paris, living the late roaring 20s, in between wars after the American soldiers fought in Paris, in a lost cave right next Ile de cité, few blocks away from Notre Dame. 

photocredits: Black Label Media  Although I must confess I was expecting to meet my Ryan Gosling - and yes, I did remember our dance mov(i)es - I met Mr. PH, or Pierre-Henri, the lovely Swedish/French, who lived in Utah from Uppsala. It’s amazing to be able to connect with all these people through music, regardless of age and origin, and this was even more special due to my Swedish experience. We danced and laughed a lot. I proudly made a fool of myself and decided I’m gonna learn this dance once Im back in NYC. Then I met Maurice, a younger, intriguing French guy with whom we danced more upbeat my-hips-dont-lie songs. That was some intense moves going on there! I had such a wonderful time I couldn’t wait to come home to write about it, I hope to make justice to the amazing experience I just had. Walking down the Seine, as Owen Willson in Midnight in Paris, I came back home - to this evil, evil Airbnb, not without stoping by the Louvre and enjoying all its secrets, changing my movie switch to the Da Vinci Code.

It’s still mesmerizes me how much these narratives shape our collective perspectives on the world. I was thinking about this exact same issue while walking down my office’s street the other day, back in NY, and saw a couple of police patrols going around like crazy, with a black SUV that looked as if it was from the FBI and a small but intense manifestation. I was surprised on how quiet the protesters were after the police cars passed by and didn’t make much sense to me. That was when I finally realized I was living this meta-reality and was tricked by my very own mind: this was all a set up for Gotham and I thought it was the real deal. I couldn’t stop laughing and my mind exploded for a couple of very long minutes trying to understand and process all these realities happening at the same time in my head!  So yes, this is my tribute to them, to the movies, to those little pieces of realities that we share in 32 mm (or blue ray, but that way is not that picturesque any more) And it feels weird that I start this tribute in Paris and not in New York, but I guess the NYC experience still feels a little bit surreal to me. At least here I know I’m not staying for good, I’m just here for 10 days, so I guess that makes me way more objective, an eager observer and an obsessed analytic of every minute.

I deserved some celebration after the success on the US embassy, so I decided to start with the simplest thing: let’s go for dinner! I went for my poulette avec pomme de terre but since it only came with fries, I switched it for the plat du soir and felt a little bit of the Jack Nicholson’s magic on Something Gotta Give at the Grand Colbert restaurant.  

I ended up in the most surreal circumstances on a Friday’s night. Lost, during a thin-rainy eve in Paris, searching for hidden wifi hotspots in order to reach my destination: a typical French bistro by Le Marais. What I didnt realized, was that I was gonna run into this typical French guy called William. William, is actually a PHD professor and researcher from Atlanta- although he has been living in France since forever, and as per a Woody Allen movie, he was wearing a brown suit jacket which was double his proper size. He was also wearing bigger trousers -not pants- and we debated about morality, existence and transcendence of matter and language over the Frankfurt School, Marcuse, Horkheimer, Adorno for more than 4 hours, having wine, charcuterie and terrine. It was a very nice movie cliche to experience without even planning it!

Who knew Paris was so famous in movies? I mean, of course in the collective imagery it is, but I didn’t actually realize the size nor the amount of “featured time” Paris have in this movie so called life. After my wonderful La-La-Land experience, my expectations were high and difficult to match, but oh you, dear Amélie, that was a hell of a Saturday we shared together! 

I went to Montmartre and started my film on the Abesees station, right next to the carrousel, close to her apartment. After a beautiful morning stroll with the sun on my face and the joy on each and every single pore of my being, I found the Cafe des 2 Moulins, where she enjoys the small but amazing things of life. Little did I know that not only the creme brûlée was gonna be amazing, but the atmosphere and the memories would be as such! The waiter became my fan: he noticed I was writing in my journal and started hitting on me with the sweetest and cheesiest lines ever, talking about the movie, practicing and mixing English and French, gifting me a pain au chocolat, drawing a heart gesture on the air before giving it to me. He even dared to asked for my number in the most courageous yet sweet way imaginable! It really made my day. Thanks Jullien, that was fun! Of course I also checked out the Studio 28 Cinema, where Amelie enjoys her movies. BITES & KMS SAYS: That’s a meta-hyper reality indeed: Amelie, a fictional character which I watch, goes and watches movies to the cinema in a narrative fiction, located on the same place I am standing right now in real life, thinking and wondering about what that character would be feeling at that moment, with the difference that I am feeling it right now. Wow #mindblown

Of course, I couldn’t stop singing My Song, performed by Christian (Ewan McGregor), feeling a little bit like Satine from Moulin Rouge, while going up and down hills. I hate Boulevard de Clichy, I absolutely hate it: it’s dirty, touristy, with no style nor personality, full of weird people in the bad sense weird can be understood. But well, even though the Bal du Moulin Rouge is located there, this is not whatsoever the best part of the Quarter. So, I kept my musical dream alive and went around the other small and hidden streets. I actually found a spot, which was absolutely perfect. I needed to stop and write about it. My piece of paper said something like this: “Little pieces of Paris, small and unique as the cobblestones of their streets, where only the little birds sing and the sun warms the soul, in between the distant buzz and talks from the tourists.” I imagine a little chambre on one of those top balconies, with lovers singing to each other, having sex and drinking wine in bed at 11 am on a Sunday, waiting to be drunk again to keep sleeping. I stopped by this wonderful Bistro called Le Sancerre. I had my first glass of champagne and had a delicious lunch, falling in love with all these movies, one scene at a time.

The following day I had a very specific location in mind: the Coulee Verte Rene Dumont: secret lover gardens. Only true Parisians go there and take their dates in hopes of some French kiss action. It is quite far off the tourist circuit, and that made me realized how the US is a rough copy of the best of France, with a very local spin. The Highline, that architecture phenomenon everyone is proud of, already existed here in Paris more than a century ago, and still lingers today. So, sorry Paula Scher, there’s nothing new under the sun. And talking about the sun, this was the setting for Before Sunset. I went there to seek inspiration and to reflect upon that proper dialogue that happens in the movie. Was sex with Ethan Hawke that forgettable or was it actually remarkable? Was he really happy with his wife? Why aren’t they together? Are they meant to be? 

I guess there is just time to listen to some Nina Simone - which, for the time being, we can switch for French Edit Piaf or Italian Mina- and to whomever is asking when I’m flying back, I’m just gonna do as Ethan Hawke: 

Celine- Hey Babe, you’re gonna miss that plane. Jesse- I know.

[calumcest]

i'm glad you're feeling better! and honestly i'm shook? i didn't even know you had that many career possibilities in other countries? like my brain automatically went from reading history and german (both truly great subjects btw) to lehramt.. honestly everything sucks about our education system and i'm sorry it's constricting your plans of moving here :( (pt1)

(pt2) though i can't understand why you'd want to leave london the literal best city in the whole entire world for germany like even with my very big love for berlin i just don't get it 🙈 (in case it isn't obvious: i love london with my entire heart) did you always live there? sendung mit der maus is truly quality tv :) did you end up rewatching it?

(pt3) your masters thesis sounds so interesting! i'd love to know more about it bc i only know a little bit about differences in gay rights between east and west but like next to nothing about how they handled hiv/aids and the influence of language is so fascinating too oh my god that made me crack up 😂 my mum grew up around hohenschönhausen 😅

(pt4) and yes exactly! like some jobs were treated so much more fairly and also what really surprised me was that according to my history teacher the east was actually a bit better/faster than the west in regards to womens rights (for example abortion was legal in the east earlier) okay so from your stories i definitely relate more to the british approach to criticism 😂 i can't tell people their ideas are shit bc i hate confrontation

(pt5) though i too was shooketh about how polite people in the uk are.. like just in a shop or sth everybody was always so nice it was weird 😅 so i get your mum's confusion. also i can't believe you apologise when someone bumps into you?? i mean this particular thing is sth i get very mad about bc i love my personal space but like just in general why do you apologise when it wasn't your fault? like yes i do apologise when i do it but if it's the other person's fault 😶

(pt6) yeah it definitely depends on the situation/person i think for practical reasons i say german first but try to mention berlin asap. aw thank you i appreciate it :) but oh my god i'm actually so sorry that happened to you, like while i love them for nostalgic reasons i agree that pfannkuchen(/berliner) can be so disgusting especially when you're expecting a crepe :( oh YES thank you so much i've been saying this exact thing for years!!

(pt7) like why do we need cases and genders when english works just fine without them? i don't wanna hear about genitiv ever again thank you very much. the correct plural is kakteen and kaktusse just sounds like a profanity and they went and made it an official possibility bc people kept saying it and ever since that i've hated duden with a passion. alex should definitely pay you for the promo & i've seen vegas mentioned on your blog a few times now so i'm gonna listen to it too :) -spoiler twin

thank u!! also i know right trying to explain that in germany was insanity they were like oh so ur working at a school bc u wanna become a teacher? :) and i was like absolutely not and they were like but u study history and german...SNDFJSNKDJF i think its insane that ur expected to choose your whole career path at the age of 18 though thats so stressful! 

omg have you been to london before? also i didnt but i did rewatch an old episode with my parents bc i reminded them about it and we were reminiscing and its STILL as good as i remember it being good old christoph and his green jumper

thank u!! god i dont actually know THAT much about the language yet bc i havent started researching but a few interesting points i’ve picked up are that 1. they always referred to drug users as ‘fixer/fixerinnen’ which is obviusly like...quite a politicised term when they had the option to say like drogenabhängige or sth 2. academics would constantly refer to ‘ansteckungsverdächtigen’ and the verdächtig in that is like...HMMM...not good 3. there was a medical panel held in 1987 in east berlin which used english terminology to describe sexual practices that carried increased risk of hiv transmission (e.g. fisting) and because lots of people didn’t speak english they weren’t actually being educated on what they should be avoiding/doing more safely SO!! theres a lot to look at i havent really started researching like i said i should though but theres already a lot of interseting things in there imo sorry this is probably super boring i just get very excited about it

oh absolutely!! it was because of necessity (the way the ecnomy was set up meant that they needed all available bodies working) but it meant that there were SO many more provisions especially childcare and you can still see that prevailing today theres a huge divide between east/west in terms of maternity leave and childcare 

omg SSNKDJFNKSJDFN honestly i have no idea we just do we literlaly apologise when we bump into lampposts its just an instinct bc u assume that its your fault bc you were in the way so u need to apologise for it but once the kids in germany started being like why the fuck are you apologising i had to physically stop myself apologising SKJDFNSJNDF

thats fair enough go di miss berlin so much i’m so desperate to go back theres stll so many things i havent seen bc ive never stayed longer than a week and its such a rich city you need more time to explore it i miss it so much lord take me back to the alexanderplatz galeria restaurant so i can eat overpriced schnitzel <3 whats your favourite german food? i have to say for me personally linsen & spätzle and maultaschen (my oma is swabian) for nostalgic purposes but marmorkuchen...schnitzel...bratwurst...klöße...weißwurst...brezel...lebkuchen...kaiserschmarrn...plätzchen...theres these lovely plätzchen my mum makes at xmas wait let me ask her what theyre claled i cant describe them. ok apparently theyre just schokoladenplätzchen ‘aber ich hab ein besonderes rezept von der ur-oma ha ha ha!!!!!!!’ (direct quote) GOD now i am desperate to go back to germany we cant get ANY good food here i swear to god . oh you know what i really love as well german junk food god you do junk food like nobody else the chocolate aisle in rewe <3 <3 <3 i miss the ja! chocolate chunk cookies so much

CORRECT i hate cases so much i’m so bad at them i still have no idea if its dem or den half the time how does it make a DIFFERENCE...also correct but the genitiv is dying anyway as we keep being told by our lecturers Der Dativ Ist Dem Genitiv Sein Tod <3 kakteen is a very intersting prospect i never considered that but the more i think about it the more i agree also kaktusse DOES sound like profanity but german swear words just arent that great anyway like fick please that upsets me so much ALSO i hope u enjoyed vegas! 

[sadrien]

wanna chat? pt.19

on ao3 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

so this is like...twice as long as a normal chapter. anyway i was in les mis the other week and i sent something and someone thought it was a les mis chapter of wanna chat. and @reyxa​ encouraged it so Here We Are

this chapter continues right off of the last one because i found a note with sick quotes on it. i kept the les mis as light and understandable as possible but just like..let me know if it makes 0 sense. i had to get this out of my system because ive been in a writing funk

(mari = cough cough, nino = space bro, alya = alys, adrien = glen coco)

enjoy? 

3:12 in boo you whore

cough cough: gmoring i cant brethe out of mynose rn Im not goin g ot be in school today :( Bu ti cant sleep anymore because I cnat breath e iim gonna go watch youtube videos

 6:37

space bro: my dude i hope youre feeling better when you wake up

6:43

glen coco: If you’re not turn on the shower really hot and sit in the bathroom with the steam

alys: or drown urself in cold medicine

glen coco: Don’t do that

space bro: never listen to alya

alys: dont listen to these traitors

PM between glen coco and cough cough

glen coco: I bet the akuma attack last night really didn’t help Don’t worry about anything today I can handle it unless it’s another akuma Just get some rest <3

10:03 in boo you whore

cough cough: Self care is chugging five cups of tea and astral projecting behind a mcdonalds to punch hawkmoth in the face

11:46

glen coco: Mari no

alys: mari yes

space bro: mari wtf

cough cough: Im dyin g

alys: tag urself im punching hm in the face

space bro: im astral projection

glen coco: Five c ups of tea

cough cough: Does that make me the mcdonalds

space bro: congrats mari

glen coco: I can’t believe Mari is the golden arches

alys has changed their name to punching hawkmoth in the face

punching hawkmoth in the face: im finally my True Self gang follwo suit

cough cough: Why shoul d I LISten to you

punching hawkmoth in the face: bc u love me and want me 2 b happy and also bc i still have ur jacket in my bedroom

cough cough: Fuck

cough cough has changed their name to mcdonalds

space bros: al youre ridic

punching hawkmoth in the face: just do it babe

space bros has changed their name to astral projection

astral projection: there ya go

glen coco: Rip Glen Coco

punching hawkmoth in the face: truly a her o of his generation :’(

mcdonalds: RIp

glen coco has changed their name to five cups of tea

five cups of tea: Rebirth

mcdonalds: I hate you all img oing ot bed

punching hawkmoth in the face: goodnight my darlign <3

astral projection: nap well bro hopefully you feel better when you wake up

 15:37

punching hawkmoth in the face: remind me to throw my bag in the seine i dont wanna do hw :(

astral projection: i feel you

punching hawkmoth in the face: wanna get togheter and do hw

astral projection: do homework or “do homework”

punching hawkmoth in the face: have u ever met me “””””””do homework”””””””

astral projection: i need to figure out physics my dude

punching hawkmoth in the face: D’:

five cups of tea: I can help you when I get home tonight

punching hawkmoth in the face: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

astral projection: the real mvp i love you

five cups of tea: I love you too Have fun Use protection

astral projection: alya please kick him out of the chat

punching hawkmoth in the face: no i like him

astral projection: fuck

 18:57 mcdonalds: Screens hurt my head irhgt now Im gonna watch reruns and keep sleepng

punching hawkmoth in the face: feel better babe <3

 22:15

five cups of tea: Ok so the other day instead of doing homework I started reading les mis ANd now instead of doing homework I’m reading les mis again I can’t believe this is how I’m procrastinating

astral projection: what

punching hawkmoth in the face: the musical????

five cups of tea: No the book Which the musical is based off of

astral projection: what a nerd

punching hawkmoth in the face: lmao how is it

five cups of tea: Old Long

punching hawkmoth in the face: how long?

five cups of tea: Uhhh 655,000 words

mcdonalds: jesus

astral projection: what the actual fuck

punching hawkmoth in the face: holllllly fuck

astral projection: you my dude are unreal

punching hawkmoth in the face: for fun???? r u sure this is for fun???????

five cups of tea: I think so? It’s kind of boring sometimes and hard to get through but other parts are really good Also if I’m reading I don’t have to practice chinese

punching hawkmoth in the face: touche

astral projection: have fun reading bro you are unbelievable

PM between five cups of tea and mcdonalds

five cups of tea: Hey why are you up? I thought you were heading off to bed a while ago?

mcdonalds: I didnt take nyquil tonight because I felt a little better and didnt want to pass the fuck out again but now Im awake and cant sleep because my head feels like its gonna explode And I regret So much

five cups of tea: Aw no poor bug

mcdonalds: Ugh

five cups of tea: Do you want anything?

mcdonalds: You dont have to

five cups of tea: Do you want anything? If you want soup I can get you some

mcdonalds: Its like???? Really late?????

five cups of tea: Mar its only 20:30

mcdonalds: Oh It feels like 1 But its still late

five cups of tea: Ok well Late night food is not a new thing Trust me

mcdonalds: … If you brought me soup Id love you forever

five cups of tea: I thought you already did

mcdonalds: Id love you even more

five cups of tea: I’ll be on my way soon

mcdonalds: I love you so much <3

23:35 in boo you whore

punching hawkmoth in the face: what if you took tea in shots like shot glasses

five cups of tea: Like with hot tea?

astral projection: i feel like thats a good way to burn your entire mouth

five cups of tea: *entire life

astral projection: ^^^

punching hawkmoth in the face: hmmm

five cups of tea: Alya no

astral projection: yeah bad idea

punching hawkmoth in the face: f i n e

 1:02

mcdonalds: sos Im dying I constantly feel like Im about to sneeze If I dont feel that way its cause Im sneezing

astral projection: rip my dude guessing you cnat sleep while sneezing

mcdonalds: Nope :’( End my suffering please

astral projection: no can do i can offer virtual hugs

mcdonalds: I guess thatll work for now

astral projection: <3

2:03

PM between five cups of tea and mcdonalds

five cups of tea: Hey Hey Marinette Hey I have something to show you

mcdonalds: Adrien its 2 in the morning

five cups of tea: So? You’re up too

mcdonalds: I slept all day

mcdonalds: Yeah but you’re awake right now

mcdonalds: … Fine Hit me

five cups of tea: “When they had finished, when they had told each other everything, she laid her head on his shoulder and asked him: ‘What is your name?’” Us

mcdonalds: Oh my go d This is les mis right??? What youw ere talking about before??

five cups of tea: Yup

mcdonalds: Omg Why are you like this

five cups of tea: Ok but am I wrong????

mcdonalds: I cant say you are tbh

five cups of tea: Man I feel like Marius am I like Marius??

mcdonalds: Whats he like?

five cups of tea: Kind of oblivious, pretty romantic but sort of in a weird way, awkward, usually confused but can be scary if he needs to, handsome as hell and love of my life that I would honestly leave all three of you for

mcdonalds: Wow Are you sure you havent already

five cups of tea: :P Actually….

mcdonalds: Are you suddenly realizing youve left us for a fictional character

five cups of tea: No I was oging to say I might be more like Bossuet

mcdonalds: Youre just saying words I dont know who that is

five cups of tea: He always has bad luck Like always Ummmm hold on

mcdonalds: K Who would I be???

five cups of tea: “He was the constant victim of mischance, hence his merriment. He said, ‘I spend my life walking under ladders.’”

mcdonalds: Ok you mgiht be this Bossuet you bad luck magnet

five cups of tea: For you Hmmmm Enjolras?

mcdonalds: Not cosette??  Shes the love interest right

five cups of tea: As much as I love you Enjolras is the leader in red And I just can’t help myself

mcdonalds: Nerd Are you goind to do alya and nino too?

five cups of tea: D u h

 2:34

mcdonalds: Adrien?? You ok? Youve been quiet for a while Or did you fall asleep on your computer again

five cups of tea: No I’m here I’m just Stuck This is haarrrrrdddddddddd Alya and Nino are just so deep and complex and awesome and I dont’ know how to place them???

mcdonalds: True But wow Slightly offended

five cups of tea: Hey yours is based on a pun I can pun easy

mcdonalds: G o to sleep kitten You can sort them in the mornign Later this morning

five cups of tea: Fine I hope you’re feeling better

mcdonalds: A little bit!! The soup definitely helped Night <3

five cups of tea: Night <3

10:25 in boo you whore

astral projection: saturdays are chill but my mom wants us to clean the entire apartment today and im not about that life

 12:12

mcdonalds has changed their name to enjolras

enjolras: I have no idea who thi s is but I hope it makes Adrien happy

punching hawkmoth in the face: ???? wahts ahppenign

enjolras: Adrien said I was this charactera t like 2

astral projection: why the fuck do none of you people value sleep

punching hawkmoth in the face: how theh ell did that even come up in conversation

enjolras: He was saying he thinks hes like Marius

astral projection: huh

five cups of tea: I’m not sure yet

astral projection: bro!!!

five cups of tea: I'm thinking either Marius or bossuet for myself

punching hawkmoth in the face: r we supposed 2 know the second one

enjolras: Hes got bad luck Thats what I got from our convo when no one else was awake

punching hawkmoth in the face: change ur name i want u2b the hopeless romantic

astral projection: isnt he already??

punching hawkmoth in the face: lmao

five cups of tea has changed their name to marius

punching hawkmoth in the face: awesome were u gonna do nino and i??

marius: Yeah I’m just having some trouble

astral projection: yeah were just too unique to be put into little boxes

marius: Exactly

astral projection: that was sarcasm but i love you so much

marius: <3

punching hawkmoth in the face: hey question not that im doubting maris badassary but why enjolras

marius: Enjolras is incredibly passionate and would do anything for his friends and the people of Paris Reminds me of how Marinette is as class president

PM between marius and enjolras

enjolras: Nice save

marius: Thanks

in boo you whore

astral projection: I see it

marius: Alya could be eponine?

punching hawkmoth in the face: shes the one who cries about marius right

marius: Well I was actually thinking her cause Ponine she knows her way around And all that stuff But yes she cries about Marius she does have a song about that

PM between punching hawkmoth in the face and astral projection

punching hawkmoth in the face: lmao did he just give me the character hopelessly in love with marius

astral projection: rip

punching hawkmoth in the face: end my life

in boo you whore

punching hawkmoth in the face: i cna work with that

punching hawkmoth in the face has changed their nickname to eponine

astral projection: and then tehre was one

marius: I’m struggling

enjolras: Arent we all

eponine: Id help but I know literally nothing other than some of the lyrics RED THE BLOOD OF BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD

astral projection: theres no way that isnt right im 100% sure those are the actual words

eponine: BLACK THE BLOOD OF BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD

enjolras: Period mood

eponine: general mood

enjolras: Ok same

eponine: mood: red and black but the only words are blood

enjolras renamed this conversation to “red the blood of blood blood blood”

eponine: yes exactly

astral projection: sometimes i wonder why im friends with you

eponine: because u love us and would be sad without us

astral projection: ok yes but also why

marius: I mean maybe Grantaire? He’s a jack of all trades? Nino you are…really hard to place But R might be the best bet

enjolras: Wait a minute R?

marius: Yes

enjolras: Get out of this chat

marius: </3

astral projection: that is amazing

astral projection has changed their nickname to grantaire

grantaire: in it for the puns

marius: So is Hugo

enjolras: Who

marius: The writer of les mis

eponine: tag yourself im les miserables all of them

grantaire: you cant be all the miserables

eponine: watch me try

marius: Sorry you must have no idea what’s going on

grantaire: not really we have nothing to contribute but keep going dude!!! i love to hear you ramble

eponine: oh oh i have something to contribute

enjolras: You do?

eponine: 24601? more like 246 so done with your shit

enjolras: Im leaving the country

grantaire: whos shit?

eponine: uh oh fuck whos the antagonist again

marius: Society

grantaire: deep

enjolras: Stop being fake deep

eponine: feep anyway no u butt the police dude

marius: The only evil in les mis IS society And the Thenardiers OH JAVERT

eponine: YES THANK YOU

marius: Javert: do not forget my name Alya: forgets his name

eponine: fuck you also 246 so done with your shit javert

grantaire: thank you for clarifying

eponine: no prob

enjolras: Ok so Im googling stuff to try and figure out whats happening And wow This is depressing ¾ of us die

marius has changed their nickname to bossuet

bossuet: Now all of us die

eponine: nope change back 2 lover boy ur not dying too

grantaire: um no one is dying my dudes

bossuet: We’re always dying But fine

bossuet has changed their nickname to marius

enjolras: Im pretty sure Im dying righ tnow I almost coughed up a lung

eponine: GO TAKE MEDICIN E

enjolras: You arent my mom!!!!!!!!!

eponine: THAT DOESNT MEAN I DONT CCARE ABOUT YOU AND YOUR HEALTH!!!!!!!!!

enjolras: AHHHHH

eponine: AHHHHHH

grantaire: Ahhhhh?

marius: Ahhhhh

[toastling]

So some friends of mine and I got to talking about Bee Movie and I wrote some sequels

[1:29:26 AM] lau: she left this man for bee jerry seinfeld [1:30:38 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: that bee couldnt even pleasure her in any way [1:30:47 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: can he kiss her??? rub her back??? [1:30:53 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: no. he cant bc hes a BEE [1:32:46 AM] Sol: http://protectbuckybarnesatallcosts.tumblr.com/post/142880693709/jibblyuniverse-ptsdgriffin-killuav [1:32:48 AM] lau: kri you innocent soul you haven't read the fanfiction [1:33:22 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: IM TALKING ABOUT LIKE, IN ACTUALITY [1:33:28 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: FANFICTION DOESNT COUNT [1:33:52 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: Sol please [1:34:08 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: also id bee terrified of him crawling inside me? what if he suffocates and dies [1:34:12 AM] Sol: You asked [1:34:21 AM] Sol: KRI STOP [1:34:21 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: i dont want to have to excavate a dead body from my vag [1:34:34 AM] Sol: THE UNIVERSE CAN ONLY HANDLE SO MUCH BEE PUNNERY [1:34:49 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: thats a shame dude beecause were talking abt bee movie [1:35:07 AM] lau: fanfiction has this figured out. air tanks, kri, air tanks [1:35:14 AM] Sol: Wut [1:35:53 AM] Toast: Vanessa is actually the reincarnation of Cleopatra and her ex is a reincarnation of her high priest. Barry is not the first bee she's looped into this little scam of hers. She seeks out bees with the right qualities and eventually traps them in a jar so that she can recreate the greatest vibrator the world has ever known and achieve ultimate pleasure as the amassed bees vibrate at just the right frequency due to her clever and specific selection process.

However, in Bee Movie, something new happened, and she fell for one of the bees who was supposed to be just a means to an end. She severed her tie to her reincarnating high priest after realizing how much of a dick he really was and fell more and more for bee Jerry Seinfeld. But in the end, she could not resist the temptation, the pleasure. Barry was the last piece of the vibrator puzzle in this reincarnation cycle. So she trapped him, too, and that was the end of their relationship.

At last, her quest was complete.

And that's how Bee Movie 2 would've ended. [1:36:04 AM] Sol: What [1:36:09 AM] Sol: The [1:36:12 AM] Sol: Fuck [1:36:27 AM] lau: there used to a game in our friend group was to find the weirdest fanfiction and try reading in without laughing. there was a bee movie bee smut fic that involved barry b benson diving inside of vanessa with air tanks [1:36:50 AM] Sol: Now we how Ford came to be [1:36:54 AM] Sol: *know how [1:37:02 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: hey James do you accept criticism on your messages [1:37:06 AM] Toast: No [1:37:18 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: too fucking bad here it is: shooting me wouldve been better [1:37:22 AM] lau: reading weird fan fiction around the lunch table is my origin story [1:37:33 AM] Toast: I hope at least Ford had fun with that one [1:37:34 AM] Sol: Why do you even ask Kri, we know what you're going to say [1:37:42 AM] Toast: I had fun writing it imagining your reactions [1:38:06 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: WHAT DO YOU MEAN SOL [1:38:12 AM] lau: oh yeah it ends with barry discovering a human fetus in her womb before stinging it to abort it and also killing himself out of anger [1:38:21 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: WHAT THE FUCK LAUREN [1:38:28 AM] Sol: THE FUCK [1:38:29 AM] lau: and then it turns out he was on a prank show [1:38:30 AM] Sol: The fuckd [1:38:31 AM] Sol: Fdnrnnf [1:38:37 AM] Sol: THE ACTUAL FUCKING FUCK [1:38:38 AM] Toast: he ded tho [1:38:49 AM] lau: with ashton Kutcher who implanted the fake fetus to prank barry [1:38:56 AM] Sol: FORD [1:39:07 AM] Sol: IM WITH KRI [1:39:10 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: Sol will you please end my suffering [1:39:13 AM] Sol: SHOOT ME [1:39:15 AM] Toast: Ford has improved my draft of Bee Movie 2 [1:39:23 AM] lau: NO [1:39:23 AM] Sol: SHOOT ME FIRST [1:39:28 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: we can do it together like hold hands and jump off a cliff or like cyanide [1:39:34 AM] Sol: I CANT OWN A GUN ANYWAY [1:39:35 AM] lau: I DIDN'T SIGN UP FOR THIS [1:40:10 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: Sol i dont have a gun either [1:40:39 AM] Sol: FORD YOU POSTED [1:40:44 AM] Sol: THAT [1:40:53 AM] Sol: YOU DONT GET TO SAY ANYTHING [1:41:06 AM] Toast: What if Vanessa fell in love with a talking gun after her tryst with Barry ended and as she and the gun were doing it she accidentally pulled the trigger would that be fucked up or what [1:41:24 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: James [1:41:28 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: for the love of god [1:41:30 AM] Toast: I feel like this is something that would happen today in Texas in real life [1:41:38 AM] lau: i mean as a group we've seen worse fanfics [1:41:40 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: can you just for fucking once please think before you hit enter [1:41:44 AM] Toast: No [1:41:44 AM] Sol: THE GUN PREMATURELY FIRES [1:41:51 AM] Sol: FUCK [1:41:54 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: im leaving all of you [1:44:33 AM] Toast: Vanessa didn't finish writing her will before the premature firation, so instead of bequeathing all of her belongings to her secret lover Jerry Seinfeld, who exists in this world independent of Barry B. Benson who had his voice but is now dead, they get bequeathed to a guy named Jerry Sein instead, who now must figure out what to do with this loudly buzzing jar and a talking gun with night terrors and survivor's guilt. [1:45:01 AM] Toast: Bee Movie 3, bam [1:45:24 AM] Toast: "bam" is part of the title, in reference to the talking gun, whose name is Bam Bam. No relation to the Flintstones character of the same name. [1:45:36 AM] Sol: https://youtu.be/tLLKMiVL3O8 [1:45:40 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: James if you make one more post about this im leaving the group [1:45:51 AM] Sol: The ant Man post had me thinking about this short. [1:45:56 AM] Toast: ): [1:46:00 AM] Toast: I'm having fun god damn it [1:47:54 AM] Sol: WAIT TOAST, WHO GHE FUCK DOESNT FINISH WRITING THEIR WILL IN SUCH A MANNER THEY DONT FUCKING FINISB A NAME [1:48:58 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: THEY BLEED OUT YOU FUCK [1:48:58 AM] Toast: I could explain this but Kri is already standing on the edge [1:49:09 AM] Sol: WHAT IS SHE DOINF [1:49:14 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: WHO IS SHE [1:49:19 AM] Sol: WRITING THE WILL DURING BEE SEX [1:49:28 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: IT WAS GUN SEX YOU FUCK [1:49:30 AM] Toast: Yes that's what she's doing except it's a gun [1:49:44 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: James u can explain the stuff uve already wrriten just please [1:49:47 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: no bee movie 4 ideas [1:49:51 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: jesus fucking christ [1:49:54 AM] Sol: WHAT KIND OF FUCKING PROTECTION. IS THAT [1:50:04 AM] Sol: LET ME JUST [1:50:16 AM] Sol: WRITE THE WILL WHEN IM HAVIG SEX WITH A GUN [1:50:21 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: NO SOL [1:50:22 AM] Sol: PERFRCT [1:50:25 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: SHE GOT SHOT [1:50:28 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: THEN WROTE THE WILL [1:50:33 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: AND DIED MID SENTENCE [1:50:53 AM] Sol: WILLS HAVE TO BE FUCKING SIGNED [1:50:53 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: BLEEDING OUT ISNT AN IMMEDIATE THING MY FRIEND [1:51:10 AM] Sol: AND YOURE ON YOUR DEATHBED WITH A TALKING GUN [1:51:20 AM] Toast: It was always going to end with Vanessa's death, this was her suicide plan all along and Bam Bam knew that. She couldn't bear to live anymore after Barry, knowing what she'd done to him and relegated him to. She released him from the jar but he was... broken. His mind was gone. The brilliant bee that she fell for was gone. So she enlisted Bam Bam to have some fun and also ensure her demise. Unfortunately, she didn't account for Bam Bam to fire prematurely. [1:51:24 AM] Sol: AND YOU LEAVE EVERYTHING TO JERRY FUCKING SEINFELD [1:51:46 AM] Toast: Jerry Seinfeld was her secret Real Lover hinted at in Bee Movie 2 and revealed at the end of Bee Movie 3. [1:51:59 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: GOD I HATE THIS [1:52:03 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: WHY WAS THIS BROUGHT UP AGAIN [1:52:12 AM] Sol: TOAST YOURE A SHIT WRITER. [1:52:38 AM] Toast: Bam Bam felt survivor's guilt because he knew what he'd done and he knew how it was going to end no matter what but knowing that it didn't go according to plan coupled with the weight of what he'd done shook him. It's really quite the tragedy. [1:52:49 AM] Toast: Then, in Bee Movie 4, [1:52:55 AM] Sol: IS TOAST CHUCK TINGLE [1:53:07 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: J A M E S [1:53:07 AM] Sol: IS HE USING THIS CHAT TO RUN BY ALL HIS IDEAS [1:53:10 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: NO BEE MOVIE FOUR [1:53:16 AM] Jarl Sex Party™: ENOUGH

[latenightbotanist]

I have feelings about the ode to joy and im going to dump them on you

At the time i am writing this part i have suffered through twenty two (22) hours of “ode to joy” repeated in my brains so you are gonna suffer with me now. Srsly, ask @madgronkish i kinda lost it around noon.. Anyways. First thought when i heard it was literally" theyre not going to fucking reunite them to THAT SONG??!?!“ Whilst i was wrong about sherlock driving the car…they still did that. Thanks mofftiss.

Ok now down to business. First off, DISCLAIMER, i am in no way qualified to do this? I dont know much about music and have like half an experience at writing meta? so..sorry in advance, maybe just look at this as inspiration and well..gay feelings bc i have enough of those to go around rn.

I will also tag some lovely people who actually know how to do this whole meta thing, and who knows, maybe one of you actually reads this mess and makes somethin out of it? Possibly? Idk, i dont blame you if you dont, really. @quietlyprim @loudest-subtext-in-tv @joolabee @hudders-and-hiddles @love-in-mind-palace @teapotsubtext @beejohnlocked @kinklock @marcelock @gaytectives @ormondsacker @culverton

So.. for all of you who dont know, ode to joy (originally “freude, schöner götterfunken”) is part of beethoven’s 9th symphony, it is the first ever symphony to incorporate voices, the lyrics mostly come from schillers “Ode an die Freude” and the melody itself has been the european anthem since 1972 (1985 if you insist on EU).

Ok so lets have a quick look at the lyrics(and i really mean quick, these are my notes from this morning, not exactly coherent but enough to get a general idea of my feelings about this, we’ll get into more detail later) i also put both the english and german version bc i felt at some points things got lost in translation, but honestly i dont know what to do about that so yeah, if you speak german, good for you, if not and by the end if this youre not bored to death and still have questions dont hesitate to ask i will awkwardly but gladly try to elaborate (this applies not only to lyrics btw)

O Freunde, nicht diese Töne!


Sondern laßt uns angenehmere anstimmen,


und freudenvollere.

/

Oh friends, not these sounds!


Let us instead strike up more pleasing


and more joyful ones!

(Literally lets have happier stories, also the score.. yes lets get the johnlock theme back,please)

Freude!
Freude! / Joy!
Joy!

Freude, schöner Götterfunken


Tochter aus Elysium,


Wir betreten feuertrunken,


Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!


Deine Zauber binden wieder


Was die Mode streng geteilt;


Alle Menschen werden Brüder,


Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt.

/ Joy, beautiful spark of divinity,


Daughter from Elysium, 

 
We enter, burning with fervour,             (Cant set the heart on fire if its

 
heavenly being, your sanctuary!              already burning w/ love, yall)


Your magic brings together 


what custom has sternly divided.               (Gayyyy!!!!!)


All men shall become brothers,           (Secret brothers,reunion…)


wherever your gentle wings hover.      

(Idk, mrs hudson is an angel?)

/

Wem der große Wurf gelungen,


Eines Freundes Freund zu sein;

 
Wer ein holdes Weib errungen,


Mische seinen Jubel ein!


Ja, wer auch nur eine Seele


Sein nennt auf dem Erdenrund

!
Und wer’s nie gekonnt, der stehle


Weinend sich aus diesem Bund!

/

Whoever has been lucky enough.         (Luckiest man in the world,


to become a friend to a friend,                 my only friend, … ) 

 Whoever has found a beloved wife,


let him join our songs of praise!               (Uh….how bout no?)


Yes, and anyone who can call one soul


his own on this earth!                                       (My john…..)


Any who cannot,

let them slink away
from this gathering in tears!   (Mary crying,then disappearing)

/

Freude trinken alle Wesen


An den Brüsten der Natur;


Alle Guten, alle Bösen


Folgen ihrer Rosenspur

.
Küsse gab sie uns und Reben,


Einen Freund, geprüft im Tod;*

(Like.. sherlock died and
 came back for john what more proof??)

 Wollust ward dem Wurm gegeben,

 
Und der Cherub steht vor Gott. 

Every creature drinks in joy


at nature’s breast;


Good and Bad alike


follow her trail of roses.                  (Good and bad, rosie, hmmmm)


She gives us kisses and wine,


a true friend, even in death;              (Or only in death?hey mary)


Even the worm was given desire,     (Mycroft? Nah,probs moriarty)


and the cherub stands before God.    (Sherlock, my lil cherub)

/

Froh, wie seine Sonnen fliegen

Durch des Himmels prächt'gen Plan,

 (Plans…ominous)


Laufet, Brüder, eure Bahn,

 
Freudig, wie ein Held zum Siegen.

Gladly, just as His suns hurtle


through the glorious universe,


So you, brothers, should run your course,             (the way it was always


joyfully, like a conquering hero.                                  meant to be…..) 

/

Seid umschlungen, Millionen!


Diesen Kuß der ganzen Welt!


Brüder, über’m Sternenzelt


Muß ein lieber Vater wohnen.


Ihr stürzt nieder, Millionen?


Ahnest du den Schöpfer, Welt?


Such’ ihn über’m Sternenzelt!


Über Sternen muß er wohnen.

/

Be embraced, you millions!


This kiss is for the whole world!             (,!!???? Like???????Yes pls)


Brothers, above the canopy of stars


must dwell a loving father.                                (Or two? Hey dads)


Do you bow down before Him, you millions?


Do you sense your Creator, o world?


Seek Him above the canopy of stars!


He must dwell beyond the stars.

Well that was……….. kinda gay. Yeah yeah i know its just a queer reading no i dont believe it was intended to be gay by either beethoven or schiller (or was it?? Irdk) but. in the context of the show. which is rather what were looking at. Pretty damn gay, right?

Ok lets have a look at my absolute favourite lines first:

Your magic brings together/what custom has sternly divided.

Well… i think we can all agree that society has, quite sternly indeed, divided holmes and watson, romantically. Homosexuality just simply wasnt a custom, or at least very frowned upon, mildly speaking. It is rather magical to watch this wrong being righted though, i should think. More specifically in bbc sherlock, the divide has come through a custom of not speaking to each other, and guess what?? Yeah hudders is friggin done with that bs these two are talking now!

And then…

Be embraced, you millions!/This kiss is for the whole world!

*shrieking* do i? Do i really need to talk about this? I think not. This just…. yeah. I mean really….. I would like to add at this point that, at least to my ears, embraced sounds like a rather tame option of translation. “Umschlungen”, to me personally conveys a certain vigour, almost as if the embrace might… idk.. come as a surprise to some extend? Take the air from some peoples lungs? Yeah dunno what that could be about……

If you still need more i guess i could just blubber some more about it all but tbh what is structure? so yeah, here we go, feel free to leave anytime i mean its already pretty gay and hurts my heart i wont blame you if you think 

•WE ARE NOW ENTERING THE REALM OF JOY… yep thats happening things are getting happy, please, god, let them actually. And this joy that we will feel when John and Sherlock ( finally) get together will mend all the wrong thats been done to those two, and us Holmes fans, during all these years of being kept apart by society and norms and customs, homophobia and heteronormativity. Were entering a sanctuary, we are literally save here!

•General message of schiller’s ode to joy is literally that HUMAN CONNECTIONS ARE THE CROWN OF HUMAN EXPERIENCE like wow yes thank you it is as if human connections were the stuff that…completes you as a human being. Say what? 

•Not only is this true for johnlock but also for our entire community, were bound together by the joy of this show, our joy will mend what heteronormativty destroyed, the joy of their kiss will unite us, we will embrace it and the joyfull gayness will embrace us! 

 •The fact that its literally such a groundbreaking piece of music. There have been symphonies over and over but this is new, this is different, he incorporated voices. Groundbreaking,earthshattering… u get it. Seriously if anyone who has even a slither of a clue about music wants to educate me on what the inclusion of voices could stand for please im begging enlighten me my brains too fried im already struggling to get this done(as you might be able to tell. I am so sorry)

 And now, onto some more shit i stumbled upon in the original poem that, sadly, didnt make it into the song but: 

•Have patience for a better world to come, god(mofftiss) is good and will give you what you deserve

•Forget hatred and revenge, forgive your (arch)enemy who shall not have to cry or be rueful (ahem mary. Also possibly mycroft to some extent who knows whats gonna happen) 

•Bravery even in agony,help where innocence is weeping (hi john) 

•Something about oaths and telling the truth to your friends as well as enemies and how lies will bring everything down…… 

•Narrowing the circle, making oaths with wine and staying faithful(keep believing!!) 

•Salvation from tyranns, hope to the dying, mercy in council, forgiving of sins and ENDING HELL well ok then yes to all! 

 No honestly theres a lot and im horrifically underqualified and have a headache so i’ll stop now. If you actually read this whole mess of a thing.. thank you. Bless your soul. I’ll make you an origami elephant or something

[calumcest]

i'm the least creative person ever but if i ever think of a good idea for the wilde kerle au i will let you know thank you 💕 oh wait can i request that one as an au for prompt lists as well? oh yes you really sound very different depending on the language but i still think your personality comes across very well in german too. like at the end when you talked about noel that was the moment i went 'yes this is definitely helen.' 🙊 (1/4)

(2/4) really i agree especially since i tend to just start talking without thinking about what point i'm trying to make and that always ends with me forming kafka-like sentences and also completely forgetting which verb i started with. struggles. also might be the fact that i'm basically asleep while typing this but can you give me an example for the wurde/geworden/worden problem bc i can't place it rn.

(3/4) oh but i think it's really sweet how you say noel but i'm also just really in love with your accent 😅 oh my god if i thought of au as 'au' i never would've taken that seriously i would've died laughing everytime i saw it. RIGHT? THANK YOU. and well i think it's an ba-wü thing but it could also be a general deep south germa thing i'm not sure. maybe austria is in on it too. and about stand by me: i actually haven't heard the acoustic i have to listen to it immediatly

(4/4) & oh yes i know what you mean i love these lyrics so much. i mean as i said i love the entire song and it comforts me a lot actually especially those lines. & i hope you get some cold days soon!! we even had thunderstorms here but they did fuck all to help with the heat so that sucked. anyway hope you manage to deal with it 💕 oh & thank you for giving me soulmate lashton content it was wonderful i missed them so much 🙈 -spoiler twin

i mean PLEASE i really enjoyed writing it i cant lie to you i might have to go and rewatch the films so i can actually remember the plot beyond ‘football’ and ‘jimi blue’ how the fuck did they milk like 6 films out of that seriously impressive but yes honestly request whatever u like i’m happy to write anything in the wk verse skjdnfsjf

SNKDFJNSKJDF thats so funny i love that its me talking about noel that brings my personality out in spades <3 thats so sweet though i always feel like i’m about 30% of myself in german bc i always wanna make jokes but by the time i’ve strung the sentence together the moments passed and if i start without thinking abotu it i’ll realise halfway through the sentence that i dont know the vocab and so the joke doesnt land. incredibly stressful 

omg LITERALLYYYY i cant lie to you sometimes i end up just restructuring the entire sentence like omg you know when youre tlaking to someone and you dont know if its a du/sie situation? and youre like könnte man mir die butter reichen? :) also omg no i just meant like würde geworden is an incredibly clumsy-sounding sentence structure to me even though obviously i know its correct like when you read something that says ich würde geworden sein and youre like how many FUCKING verbs do you want 

omg please i cant believe you actually like mya ccent that still is like !! nobody ever likes my accent skdbfwhef i sound soooo harsh i think all my mates that arent from round here always make fun of it skdfjnwehjfb but omg my oma is swabian and she doesnt say that i dont think im going to have to ring her and be like say china. and see if i need to emancipate myself 

omg i fucking love stand by me ALSO idk if you know but noel did a whole like acoustic show that got turned into an album and the acoustic version of slide away is sooooo pretty its called the dreams we have as children live for teen cancer trust HIGHLY recommend checking that out if you havent already

omg i know we had loads of thunderstorms too but it just made it proper humid it was vile </3 aaaaaah i’m glad you enjoyed!! i May have mosto f the next chapter written...Maybe...