#not coloured like last years soz

[98chao]

little scribble for their birthday

[lov1ngreid]

BOYS LIKE YOU | 1

(pairings): highschool!spencer + cheerleader!reader both intended to be 18 in this story

(warnings): none!

(word count): 2.9k

(author’s note): so long i’m so sorry

hii i decided to split this fic into a mini series cause i have so many ideas and directions for it and i didn’t want to squish it into one long fic, some chapters maybe nsfw ;P i also wrote this with high school in mind, of course Spencer is regular high school age and not like twelve 🤨 but if you’d rather picture them in early college go ahead! also I usually HATEEE when fics have outfit inspos but soz I’m forcing you to imagine these outfits they’re so gorg 😭

okay no more rambling!! if u wanna listen to what i did when i wrote this, here you go!! ➘

“That’s what you’re wearing” Your brother brodie snickered from his bedroom as you strolled past it on the way to the bathroom, usually you wouldn’t have given in to his snide comments, which you were no stranger to. But it was thanksgiving if your brother thought your outfit was ugly, chances are, so would the rest of your family.

Your outfit always happened to be a topic of conversation.

Your movements halt when you finally process what he had said, before slowly taking a few steps backwards meeting his taunting face while he sat on the edge of the bed “What’s wrong with it?” You cock your head feeling the embarrassment trickle through your face up to your ears, usually you wouldn’t care what comments Brodie decided to make about your outfit, but a lot of people were going to be seeing this one.

Honestly you thought it was pretty tame considering the only revealing piece was your skirt, which frankly wasn’t that short, and you thought you had compensated with your boots.

“Why are you wearing… boots?” He laughed looking down at your outfit with furrowed eyebrows before looking back up at your flustered face “and why are they red?”

You scoffed, embarrassment completely diminishing when you find out that was his problem with your outfit “they’re maroon… and you’re wearing a doctor who shirt, don’t think you’re in any position to be judging me” you glare back at him uncrossing your arms.

Honestly, he has absolutely no right to be making fun of your outfit, despite being twins, you were the complete opposites. His outfits usually consist of different coloured converse and some sort of comic book shirt, yours consisting of literally anything else.

“I have a party afterwards anyways, I don’t have time to get changed”

“You have a party on thanksgiving?… who has a party on thanksgiving” Brodie scoffs finishing the lace on his second converse

“A lot of people” you smile sarcastically backing from his door frame to continue your task before you were rudely interrupted “not that you would know” you mumble under your breath before leaving his bedroom.

A little satisfied smile crept upon your face when you heard Brodie’s faint ‘hey!’ Emitting from his bedroom.

You knew your mother would be absolutely furious knowing you had intentions on leaving thanksgiving early to attend a party, which was exactly why you had no plans on telling her. Your family was big enough as is, and considering you had shared thanksgiving with the Reid family for 12 years and counting, with both combined there had to be one, or many pockets for you to escape unnoticed.

The car ride to the Reid family home always seemed so short, always feeling so much longer when you were riding there on bikes, or walking there after school.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had even used your bike, it had to be collecting dust in your garage by now, you truly don’t think you had used it since starting highschool, despite your brother’s efforts to get you to ride to Spencer's house with him, each time you declined, something always more important popping up.

The familiar smell of the house flooded your nose while you took a step in, it always smelt like chai and vanilla, and it always looked like fall threw up on it, decorated with faux autumn leaves and pumpkins all year round, they always just added Santa hats to the pumpkins in December, you knew that was Spencer’s doing.

The wind was almost taken from you while Diana embraced you in the biggest hug, almost knocking over the cupcakes from the tray you were holding, giggling a little you returned the hug one handed of course. She always smelt like the house times ten, the vanilla smell becoming so much stronger the closer you were to her, pulling back she embraced your face in her warm slender hands brushing your cheeks softly with the pad of her thumb.

“You look so beautiful” she smiles, your face turning pink at her compliment, she did this every year. Every year she hugs you, looks like she’s about to cry and then goes on about how beautiful you look for the rest of the night, and every year it makes you feel a little more guilty about not coming around as much.

Both your parents embrace Diana and William before they usher you to the beautifully set dinner table, where the rest of his and your family awaited your arrival, both yours and his grandparents chatting away at the kitchen bench about some sort of football nonsense.

Always in awe of Diana’s meals, you debated on changing your mind and slipping out after dinner instead, not wanting to miss out on her carefully cooked Turkey.

Despite getting swept away in greeting the rest of your family, as well as the rest of the Reid’s, it didn’t take you long to notice one missing Reid.

Regardless of your efforts to talk to Spencer, he never really seemed that interested in befriending you after middle school, every time you tried to talk to him in class he always went quiet and dismissive, or snapped mean answers back at you, and you simply took the hint.

Spencer saw the way your friends snickered to themselves when you tried to speak to him, the way they’d whisper when he walked past, even though you’d smile and wave, he always saw them laugh behind you. He knew deep down it wasn’t your fault, but he couldn’t help but blame you when you never actually stopped any of your friends from making snide comments at him or his friends.

Excusing yourself from your family, you hopped up the stairs, muscle memory walking you towards Spencer’s room before you mind had caught up,

Reading the large ‘S R’ sticker on the bedroom door, you chuckle to yourself a little, staring at the crooked R knowing it was like that cause you couldn’t reach it to meet the S in the fourth grade, Spencer had refused to help you, cackling as he watched you on your tippy toes while you begged him to stop laughing.

Before your mind could even process anything, you brought your arm up to knock on his door, swallowing nervously.

You weren’t even sure why you were nervous, he just seemed to shut down any attempt at being friends and you never knew why. He got along with Brodie just fine, they were honestly really close, they hung out at school everyday and studied together after school on Wednesdays and Fridays, it just seemed like your invitation stopped one day.

The door swung open while your mind had still been dissociated thinking about all the attempts you made to talk to him, snapping you from your brain fog, Spencer stood at the door almost equally as confused as you, honestly you didn’t know why you were there, and as smart as he was, he didn’t know either.

“I brought you a cupcake” you chuckle pushing the baked good towards him with your right hand, eyebrows furrowed he takes a look at the seemingly vanilla cupcake in your hand before looking back up at your eyes.

“I don’t like cupcakes” Spencer shakes his head quickly while his hand grips harder on his door handle, debates in his mind about closing it on you.

“Yes you do” Cocking your head you stare at Spencer confused, he loved cupcakes, he also loved your cupcakes “I literally saw you eating one in the library the other day” you scoff at his obvious lie.

“And why were you in the library” he raises both his eyebrows, glancing back down at the pretty cupcake you had offered him, which he began to quickly regret declining, because he really did love your cupcakes.

“Reading?” You conceded pulling your arm holding the cupcake back “are you implying I don’t read Spencer Reid?” This was the most he had talked to you in months, you never realized you could miss a person's voice despite them being alive and well.

“If the boot fits” he shrugs leaning on his door, the grip on his door handle loosening a little, you stare a little taken back, he doesn’t talk to you for years, and then all of a sudden on thanksgiving he decides he’s going to spit back sassy little comments at you?

“Can you just take the cupcake?.. it’s pumpkin spice” you admitted pushing the sweet back in his direction, a little part of Spencer’s facade broke down, almost giving into the cupcake “I even made the little pumpkin out of fondant… it took forever” you whisper the last part almost talking to yourself.

He tried his hardest to stay strong but you had just about broken him down at this point, with a displeased groan rolling his eyes he reached out to snatch the cupcake from your soft hand, earning a small smile to form on your lips.

It only took him seconds to dig into the treat before a soft chuckle escaped your lips “can I come in?” You smile glancing behind him into his room, it looked almost exactly the same as it did when you were fourteen, posters in the same place, no furniture was rearranged, you even spotted the mini dalek figurine you had bought him on his top shelf.

Hesitantly Spencer nods stepping away from the door frame to welcome you in, his room was always kept neat, sheets tucked perfectly under his mattress, and books always in the correct spot. His weakness, however, was the countless amount of school work pages spread across his desk.

Taking a seat at his desk your eyes still gaze around his room, feeling like a blast from the past, all the books you read, series reruns you watched and stories you wrote coming back to you in a wave of memories.

“So…” he mumbled, mouth still half full with your cupcake before sitting down on the edge of his bed “do you need science homework?” Shrugging boring his eyes back into yours.

You scoff, frankly offended he would even ask you such a thing “no?.. Spencer, you and I have almost the same science grades." You'd be lying if you said you’ve never thought of asking Spencer for homework, especially on nights where cheer practice ran late and you didn’t have nearly enough time to finish, but you’ve never actually asked.

“Yeah almost” scoffing while he brushes his hands against each other wiping the crumbs of the cupcake away, you sat there stunned a little, he knew you’d never ask him considering your friendship… situation, you wouldn’t use him.

You felt the rage boiling in you for a little at his attitude towards you, considering you had done absolutely nothing for him to be mad at you for, sure you weren’t in the same friend group, but he would know more than anyone the statistics of middle school friends drifting apart in highschool, you swivel his desk chair to face his desk, frustrated palming your face with your hands dragging them down a little.

You allow your eyes to rake across his messy paper filled desk before they’re drawn to one page in particular, written in pink pen on beige lined paper, quickly snatching it from the pile you let your eyes scan over it a little before letting out an unexpected laugh.

Catching Spencer’s attention his eyes had almost bulged out of his head once he realized what piece of paper you had in your hands.

“Dear Spencer…” you start reading aloud ignoring Spencer’s loud attempts to make you put it down “I’ve thoroughly enjoyed our conversations and wanted to let you know-”

“Put it down please” he groans, reaching forwards to grab it from your hands, only for you to snatch it towards you standing up from his desk chair.

“-That I’ve liked you for a while now- Sadie Keller!” You gasp grinning up at Spencer while he makes every attempt to steal the paper back from your grip “you never told me you liked Sadie Keller!” you playfully smack him with the piece of notebook paper before letting him grab it from your grasp.

“I don’t really tell you anything” Spencer crumpled up the paper before tossing it back onto his desk, you face fell a little at his words, only because he was right, he didn’t really tell you anything at all, because he didn’t ever talk to you, because you weren’t really friends.

You almost could’ve sworn you felt a lightbulb click on above your head while you watched Spencer scurry his papers together to make a neat pile “come to a party with me” you rush causing his movements to halt slowly turning his head to meet your gaze.

“Why on earth would I do that… it’s thanksgiving” he reasoned, confusion painted across his face. He simply could not fathom why you would want to take him to a party, he also couldn’t fathom why he was considering it.

“God” you groaned, moving to take a seat on his bed now “people have got to get over that” rolling your eyes you pat down your skirt a little before continuing your attempt to read his face for clues on what was going on inside his head.

“Why would you want to be seen at a party with me?” He queried, attitude dripping from his sentence, watching as your face dropped and your brows furrowed coloured him confused, why would you want to be seen with him?

“Sadie will be there… and I can’t see a potential love story and not indulge” you snicker, almost dismissing his question, you thought you’d spare a sentimental conversation about how much you missed him and instead go an easier route, you wanted him to come for his benefit.

To your surprise, he looks as if he considers it for a while, it was the first time you actually took in what he was wearing, a fitted doctor who shirt and gray sweatpants, the same exact doctor who shirt your brother has on, you cringed a little at the thought that they had coordinated that.

“Fine” he says after a while of silence, you simply cannot help the grin creeping up on your face “but only because of Sadie, and not because of you” he rushes again, almost sounding like something he was trying to convince himself rather than you.

Holding your hands up in defense you smile at his surprising compliance “how are we even supposed to leave without anyone noticing?” Beginning to worry that both your families were beginning to wonder where both of you had gone.

In all seriousness, your family actually had not noticed that the both of you were up in Spencer’s room, and were much more occupied by the game of football they all huddled around to watch.

“Follow me genius”

go to PART TWO

don’t want to miss new chapters? click HERE

BACK TO MASTERLIST

[what-if-doctor-who-was-yuri-yaoi]

💭 ⛪️✨️

For ask game!

💭 Some character headcanons

ok so rufus is like 100% gay like ik hes mlm thats canon bc vincent but i dont think his sexuality is ever mentioned lmaoo so like + he would be a fan of like dua lipa n shit but like hide it so much and act like he listens to acdc and like clive is the only one who doesnt realise his music taste tbh

farah is defos like omni/pan romantic and greysexual + she defos checked ao3 n tumblr to see if there was rpf about her. she definitley wasnt going to read it. why do u ask

gary is transfem bc i said so rn (im bsing these hcs on the spot based on vibes ima be real) and defos experimented w dudes in like pallamistus equivelent to collage/uni and still fucks em sometimes so hes like hetroromantic/bisexual w preference for women also he learnt how to make coloured metal and then made pride flag swords (i dont think pallamistus would have many pride flags but i think there would maybe be a rainbow pride one + jason showed ppl pride flags from earth and started making it a bit of a thing by accident

⛪ Favorite deity

knowledge or healer r my faves bc like knowledge as a deity their domain speaks to me like yesssss facts n shit and then healer as a fuckin person is so cool like they use i belive its he/they or he/it since jason refers to them w they/them or it/its at some point idk which but like i just find em v v interesting i love em also death is such a cool goddess bc like theyre not a bad deity like other similar ones like pain and trickery n stuff which i just like symbolically like "death is not unnatural it is a force of good just like life"

i do have a bit of beef w the whole evil gods being purged out bc like mortals doing that like sure ig (but also like yall r piss scared of a god but u wanna kill em and yall have the balls to do that damn) but like the fact that ALL OTHER GODS ACTIVLEY HUNT THEM is a bit like why? yall r litteralyl forces of nature personified why are these ones bad dumbass why is pain exterminated why is trickery frowned upon WHY IS DISGUISE A BAD GOD????? and then FUCKING PURITY WHO IS TRYING TO DESTORY THE WHOLE WORLD TO BE TAKEN OVER JUST IS NEVER FLAGGED AS AN EVIL GOD??? like yes the gods know its decipt and cant say shit but like surley theres a god who that is within their purview to speak about??? like truth or some shit can reveal lies or smthn

damn thats another rant abt some worldbuildy thinks (im working up the post rn idk y)

✨ Coolest power (essence or otherwise)

ok so i think skill books r super super cool and also masivley underused like wdym theres fucking skill books and noone uses them like sure u need a whole new power to use em but like just make a ritual like cmon theres prolly a ritual for every cool ass essence ability and like jasons power that absorbs essences n awakening stones also gives him the skill book one like they r absolutley linked JUST FUCKIN RITUAL THIS SHIT UP

FREE KNOWLEDGE

HOW HAS NOONE MADE A RITUAL FOR THIS YET

oh also on the topic: knowledge prolly has a shit ton of skill books on like everything why dont they make skill books for basic skills like reading and writing and simple maths and do free rituals for kids to bypass the whole years long education system that fucks up kids mental states later on (the mental health but is more high school but still) like yes theres prolly a min age like essences n shit but like. just wait?? cmon its like fifteen years CMON oh also speaking of the min age is that like a last minute puberty thing or is it like a second magic puberty also surley it would be like "ur defos gettin fucked up" -> "prolly gettin fucked up" -> "maybe gettin fucked up" -> "no fuckedupedness now :3" (like normal)

soz that last one was a worldbuilding rant abt skill books goddamn i didnt know i had that in me wow

[wikipediafag]

15 questions | 15 people

tagged by @twinpeaksrecord thx 4 the tag !! v sweet :)

are you named after anyone? yup! Afeni Shakur she was a black panther party member & tupac's mother

when was the last time you cried? listening to Blonde as i type this lol had a lil tear at "you are from my past life/hope u feeling well bruh"

do you have any kids? nope

do you use sarcasm a lot? too much maybe

what’s the first thing you notice about people? behavior/mannerisms idk.. how they're Acting

what are the colour of your eyes? brown-black

scary movies or happy endings? scary!!!! my s/o and i watched Saw II for st. valentines yesterday it was super fun :p

any special talents? i dont think so? i dont wear makeup daily but im very good at it! more like a secret hobby lol i find it annoying to wear it under my glasses,, which i wear everyday so...

where were you born? NY

what are your hobbies? i love writing so... lots of that. poems, short stories, essays, journaling idk Anything. i play ukulele, been playing for 6? 7? years now :) love movies love horror movies and i listen to a terrifying amount of music each year. like every waking hour <3

do you have any pets? leopard gecko! she's a princess and i love her

what sports do you play/have you played? i've been pretty strictly Solo Sports for a looong time lol Martial Arts, Rollerskating, Ice Skating (i used to do figure but had to quit), Swim, Riflery, Archery, and Track bc of fucking course.

how tall are you? dont laugh yall im 5'1"

favourite subject in school? english history or french it was always one of the three

dream job? ok vast range but. mortician or english teacher. DreamDream job would be professor teaching african diaspora lit or smth

tags: i def wont do 15 ppl lol soz @ziggygloom @das-wil @thegenius8pie @merricatcoded @blehlife103 @fennnnton @lip-scrub @stonerfae

[pegasusdrawnchariots]

Tagged by @oatflatwhite to do this, what a star (pls excuse the lateness lol)

1. were you named after anybody?

Originally yes but my name has undergone tectonic drift over the years ^_^ Name of Theseus styles

2. when was the last time you cried?

Probs sometime in the last month?? A combination of frustration & hormones

3. do you have kids?

(I'm stealing this, Liz <3)

4. do you use sarcasm a lot?

I suspect that I do but don't notice it... can't be helped soz I'm a product of my generation :')

5. what sports do you play/have you played?

Outside of school, I did karate for most of my school years. Now nothing lol

6. first thing you notice about someone?

Their outfit!! I like to find something to compliment them on as early in the conversation as possible, so it's either outfit or hairstyle

7. eye colour?

Default brown. Middle slider brown

8. scary movies or happy endings?

Always a sucker for a dance party ending

9. any special talents?

I'm p good with anagrams, ciphers, & word puzzles more broadly. I can also instantly tell u the number value of any letter A-Z & vice versa (the letter that corresponds to any number 1-26). & I can recite the alphabet backwards without pausing

10. where were you born?

Greece

11. what are your hobbies?

I knit sometimes, like to try baking new things, can play like ,, 2 video games. Reading is always a big one, esp. getting into audiobooks more lately so I can bake or knit at the same time (more hobby per hobby)

12. do you have pets?

A dog! He's 4 today :)

13. fave subject in school?

I loooved English & history (both ancient & modern) but they did not love me back lol, at least by my final year. Did better in them at uni though :)

14. dream job?

A bit of everything! I get bored after like 2 years in a job & want to try something else. Currently doing job apps as we speak...

Thank u Liz this was fun!! Tagging @swampgirl666, @literalnobody, & @coldforest, plus anyone who wishes to do it has carte blanche!!

[scripture-digital]

Banished to the saltmines, our brave heroine raves on like no tomorrow...

This is CLASSIC. Not much needs to be said here, and I don’t know what boots she’s wearing, but I am loving it regardless!

It’s a little cosplay-ish, I admit - but this is the good kind of cosplay-ish. Her cyberlox are alright, fine, whatever... but her main outfit? SO cute, I’d wear that myself to events! I also don’t know how she managed to get inside an industrial saltmine, but WHO cares lolz.

Her armwarmers I think I’ve seen up for sale before, some time ago... I think maybe when I was... 15? 16? On amazon or something, when I was first getting into the #cybergothyfe... Roughly 3 years ago lmaooo that’s fucked. I’m guilty of having considered getting them also, little me saw lace and went “woa dude!!!”

Blergh, I’m waaaaay off-track. Soz! Anyways the thing I love most about this fit is the boots... Personally I’d wear longer socks and some fishnets under said socks, perhaps ripped ones, with roughed up sleeves on my arms (all about layering!). The boots themselves are rather complex compared to the rest of the outfit, minus the torso - which really messes it up imo...

It’s a pretty common thing with many styles of this kind. One part of the fit is overly complicated (in a good way!) while the other is just waaaaaaayyyyy too simple (at least as I see it, I do like divine chaos within my wardrobe).

6/10, like the last one... Very cute colour scheme, I must add - and fitting pose too! The image itself emanates a great feeling, perhaps not just because of the outfit within but due to the set-up also... How does she do it?

[karmaajr]

ooo seems funsies :D

1) mum probably, dad no 💀

2) girl best friend

3) I regret SOOO much like its acc crazy

4) sir I am a teenage girl, what do u think?? LMAO

5) single pringle ✨️

6) in my sleep or murdered painlessly

7) uhhh a can of sweetcorn probably

8) I used to play basketball; netball; football (not the american one); boxing if that counts; others I can't remember lolol

9) yessir 😭

10) probably last week

11) not sure :3

12) duh

13) myself? tf? 💀✨️

14) a lotta ppl but most importantly this girl who bullied me for a year, then we became friends for a year and she moved to leeds at the end of the school year (idkw but I think I have a crush on her NOW of all times lol)

15) I wish :((

16) I have no clue how to tell how I'm feeling besides

a) shitty, I wanna jump out a window

b) etc

so ima say b :D

17) nuh uh

18) terrified of them, it's embarrassing :D

19) probs

20) a playground

21) packing for a holiday

22) sometimes I want none, sometimes I want one and sometimes I want two lolol

23) I had my ears pierced but the piercings have closed bcuz the skl said I wasn't allowed to wear bike earrings so I took them out :((

24) maths probably

25) yesh

26) food; attention; love; touch; a punch in the face

27) yuppers

28) nope

29) she cried at home after I broke up w her???? does that count????

30) the fact I have to go to a wedding in a few hours n the clothes r horrid

31) how am I supposed to know 💀✨️

32) I have no personality which also means I have no fav colour alas soz

33) I probs trust ppl to easily if anything-

34) the girl I mentioned b4

35) my mum

36) I give out 3rd, 4th, 5th and SOOOO many more

37) uhhh i ignore it happene?? forget I suppose

38) no 2023 was

39) like 7-8

40) ew no

51 💀) dunno

52) ig

53) read shitty fanfics

54) no

55) irl yes

56) like 6 I think

57) no

58) none

59) yes

60) its complicated

61) depends who

62) idk

63) doubt it

64) yes ew I'm not kissing a guy again

65) again? lmao, accept his feelings say I don't like him like that then continue being the same around him if he doesn't immediately drop me

66) yes

67) the guy from b4

68) I don't do shit like that ewwww

69 😫) nah

70) defo

anyways this took forever n my parents r pissed lmao oopssssz

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[gayemoji]

three cheers finally my top album of all time lets gooo

[writingsfromhome]

Nuclear Family I

A/N: As requested (accidentally deleted the ask soz) a Dad!Harry where you visit him with your daughter and you live together as a family even though the reality is far from it. But for the sake of your kid you put up with it. The next part gets better promise!

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

--------

“Charlie don’t get too far,” I call out to my three year old. She gives me a disappointed look but I return one of my own and she drags her feet back to me.

Sometimes it felt like it had always been just me and Charlotte and other times it was hard to believe it would be almost four years since I’d had her. The moment she was born-two weeks early-on a rainy August day, I knew I made the right choice to keep her.

“When are we getting on the airplane?” my daughter pouts. She reminded me so much of her father with her bold eyes framed by her lowered brows. I remember when I held her for the first time in my arms and she blinked up at me, her big eyes were a dewy field reflecting her father. It was then that it hit me that no matter where he and I were on earth-we were still somehow connected. And since I was still in love with him then, it hurt. But I learned soon to pour my love into Charlotte and focus on raising her the best I could.

“We’ll be boarding soon." I pick her up and hold her on my knees to keep her from running off again. This was my first time travelling with her-her father generally came down to LA a few times a year to visit her so we never had the need to make the trip. This time, for her fourth birthday, we’d decided to go to London and stay there for the month. And since I was my own boss, I could take my work anywhere.

“I want to see daddy,” Charlie whines.

"We will babe,” I try to soothe her.

“Daddy” was Harry Styles, the Harry Styles. We met through a friend over six years ago when he was in LA. Up until meeting him, it felt like I was living a grey version of my life. Our chemistry was explosive and our connection instant--colouring my world a vibrant hue. We were in love-so in love I moved to London a few months later to be with him and it was going perfectly until I got pregnant. We agreed to keep the baby-it was a no brainer, but as the months went by and the reality sunk in, our relationship took a hit. Suddenly we were arguing about insignificant things, Harry stayed out late with friends or in the studio and wasn’t as supportive as he should have been, and I wasn’t happy. When I brought up the separation Harry looked almost relieved-which hurt. When I brought up moving back to LA he was enraged, but after a few days he agreed. Now, our Charlie saw him a few times a year when he lived in LA and she would stay with him. Our interactions were limited to picking her up and as I’d heard it Harry had a steady girlfriend for the past year. Despite all that, I still loved him. What we had was unlike anything I’d felt, seen, or read about before. I knew he'd felt it too, the music he released spoke the words he never said. But the ugliness of the last few months of our relationship always kept me from remaining wistful. Harry didn’t want commitement. He only had room in his heart for our daughter and I was fine with that.

We were staying around the corner from Harry’s at an air bnb for convenience. Ever since having Charlotte, I hadn’t been outside of the US so this was exciting yet daunting. The idea of seeing London again, all my old friends, and Harry gave me a rush of mixed emotions.

The landing and locating of our luggage had a few bumps and a minor tantrum but our taxi takes us to the flat where we are met with the hostess.

“There’s been a terrible mistake,” she wrings her hands as we stand in the heat of the summer afternoon.

“What kind of mistake?” My heart drops and there’s a tugging on my dress. Charlotte demands to be picked up.

“We accidentally booked another couple to the flat.” The woman responds.

“What?” If I wasn’t this tired, I would be shouting. “How can you make a mistake like that? I booked this well in advance!”

“I understand,” the woman says. “Your booking must have been accidentally cancelled and I-the couple is fine with sharing the flat-”

“I have a small child with me as you can see,” I cut her off not going into detail why our privacy was extremely important. “I’m not living with two strangers when I secured the place for all of August. This is bullshit,” I spit out, forgetting Charlie could hear me. This trip was not going how it should be. “I’m contacting air bnb and-”

My rant is cut short when my phone vibrates. Harry.

“Hi,” I answer.

“Daddy!” Charlotte yells into my ear. I hush her with a glance and try to listen to what Harry was saying.

“-landed? I was trying to reach you where are you?”

I sigh and give the woman a dirty look. “We’ve just arrived at the bnb and apparently there’s been a ‘mistake’ and it’s double booked so now I don’t know where-”

“Shit, stay with me,” comes Harry's steady voice.

“I couldn’t,” comes my own, slightly less steady voice. Staying with Harry would be bad for me. It would only stir old emotions back up and make it harder to leave once again. I just knew it.

“I’m right around the corner Y/N. Just stay until you find another place at least.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I agree and order an Uber, giving the woman a piece of my mind before I go.

Charlotte had fallen asleep on my shoulder in the midst of all of it so I struggle with the child, our luggage, and my phone when I reach Harry's.

“I’ll be right down,” he says. My stomach is suddenly doing sommersaults and I can barely feel my legs. I saw Harry near Christmas! Why was I suddenly so nervous?

“Hey,” Harry enters the lobby in a black shirt and jeans and his glasses sit atop his mess of hair. “You look lovely Y/N, but that’s nothing new.”

Harry's grin is like a crack in the ice surrounding us and I give him a quick hug hello.

“Let me get that.” He grabs the luggage and we wait for the elevator again.

“She fell asleep,” Harry brushes our daughter’s hands and she shifts on my shoulder.

“She’s been doing that since the ride,” I say. “I think jet lag is already doing her in.”

Harry smiles at her and the tenderness in his gaze holds me captive. It was a while since I saw Harry look like that.

Harry gets the luggage onto the lift and I follow him in. The mirrored interior reflects the glimpses he takes of me but I stay staring forward, not wanting to give in.

“Won’t your girlfriend mind?” I ask Harry when we enter his flat. “That we’re staying with you.”

“About that,” Harry scratches his nose. “I’m sure she’ll understand. We should talk though…about the trip.”

“Of course, let me just put Charlotte to bed.” Harry points out the spare room and I can tell Charlie will like it here with the amount of stuffed animals Harry's decorated the bed with. She was spoiled.

“So you can stay as long as you want here,” Harry begins. “Or if you want to find someplace else I understand. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

He holds my gaze as he talks and I nod along. It was all very proper and polite, almost as if we’d never had anything more than a friendly relationship.

“What’s your schedule like?” I ask. “I know we already figured things out but if I’m staying for a few days here will I be in the way of anything?”

“I’m filming in a few days, I took a lot of time off the next couple weeks for Charlie but that’s it. Then I'm in the studio after that." Harry scratches the back of his head. “Just make yourself at home don’t worry what I’ve got to do.”

“I don’t want to get in the way. I know we didn’t plan for this,” I flush. Harry reaches over and squeezes my shoulder.

“I want you to feel comfortable, love...”

I’m suddenly 21 and Harry and I are on one of our first dates at a bar. He holds onto my hand and tells me he really likes me. He asks me if we wanted to take our relationship past the dating stage. I’m giddy and drunk on love and kiss him yes.

“Mom?” A small voice calls out.

“Yes!” I jump up and shake the memories off, rushing to the spare room. Charlotte sits up in bed with a frown on her grumpy face. “I’m right here babe.” I scoop her up and she holds onto me, already holding a stuffed koala in the other hand.

“So you’ve met Mr. Blake.” Harry walks into the room and points to the koala.

And just like that Charlotte is jumping into her dad’s arms and bubbling with laughter, explaining how his real name is Oreo. My heart squeezes watching the two interact. Charlie is more awake than before the plane ride as she continues with her endless chatter. Harey is wide-eyed and drinking in everything she says. She says something funny and he throws his head back laughing, kissing the side of her head while she giggles. Seeing them two made my heart full.

“Momma I’m hungry,” Charlie says abruptly.

“You must be,” I look at the time. “It’s been a while since we ate.”

“Let’s have an early dinner out,” Harry suggests.

“That’s not necessary-” I try to say but Charlie cuts me off with a big cheer and soon Harry joins in and he’s off with her riding his back with her hands clasped tightly around his neck. I would never win with those two together so I find my wallet and join them.

“I didn’t realise how much I needed this,” Harry says on our walk to the restaurant. It was a ten minute walk Harry wanted to take, reassuring me that we wouldn't be bothered. Charlotte holds her dad’s hand and stares in wonder at the new city around her. “I can’t believe you-she-Charlie hasn’t ever been down here.”

“She was so excited to finally see where her Dad lives,” I laugh at the image of her bouncing off the walls in happiness.

“I think the weirdest thing for me is that my baby has an American accent,” Harry comments.

“I never thought about that!” I laugh. “At least she won’t be saying things like crisps and the loo!”

“Oi that’s offensive,” Harry jokes. “My english is just as good as yours mate!”

“Now you sound Australian!” I tease.

Harry laughs and bumps his shoulder into mine.

“Australia has kangaroos,” Charlotte comments randomly.

“We’ve got a clever one,” Harry winks at me. “They’ve got massive spiders too.” Harry says to our daughter but little does he know she actively picked up spiders.

Charlie starts jumping like a kangaroo and soon Harry picks her up and sits her on his shoulder where she shouts to anybody who listens that she was on top of the world.

“I always tell people she’s got that energy from her dad,” I tell Harry quietly. There a shine to his eyes as he looks to Charlie and she looks down at him and shouts it louder.

“My mum and dad were thinking of coming around this weekend to see her,” Hadry suddenly says.

“That would be nice for her. To see her family,” I say.

“I mean you’d be there too?” Harry says.

“Oh, right.” My mouth dries at the thought of having to see his family. They were a great bunch but the way Harry and I ended things so abruptly was an uncomfortable reminder. “I’ll try to make it.”

“Charlie can have some sort of a normal family dinner,” Harry jokes.

“Both parents and grandparents? That would make her trip actually.” I say with a little bit of sadness. Charlotte wouldn’t grow up with both parents like Harry and I had the privlege of and that hurt me thinking about it.

“I wish she could have that all the time,” Harry sighs. He glances over at me as he says it and there’s something unspoken. But Charlie grabs a fistful of his hair and he has to get her down in her drunken power.

The restaurant is cozy and Charlie talks a mile a minute with the attention of both her parents. Every so often when she says something ridiculous or something related to an old inside joke from years past, Harry will glance over at me with a smile. It’s a secret language between us, and I swear I even feel his hand brush my own but I chalk it up to accidents. Harry had a girlfriend, he had no business doing that with me.

It gets more confusing later that night. Harry had plans to go out at 8 and Charlie falls asleep by half past 7. Being in LA time, I stay snuggled in the couch, watching a random movie Harry recommended. My eyes drift shut halfway but I’m awoken by a bang. My eyes squint in the dark as my hand feels for my phone. 1:47AM the bright display reads.

“Sorry,” comes a voice. The lights flick on and Harry stands dishevelled in the clothes he went out in. “I was trying to keep quiet I di'know you were sleeping!”

He was drunk-whispering which meant his voice was only slightly lower than normal. He stumbles towards me and falls onto the sofa, yanking his shoes off with a great deal of effort.

“Were you sleeping?” He asks me up close.

“I guess so,” I respond. “Did you have a good time?”

A part of me feels awash with sadness, the dull and familiar ache settling into my chest. Another part of me is angry at myself for still being in love with a man who could not love me the same way.

“It would have been nice if you came,” Harry reaches out and twists a strand of my hair. “Are you naturally a brunette?”

“I am,” I say gently. “You should drink water before bed.”

“No-no don’t start taking care of me!” Harry puts a pillow on his lap. “I’m supposed to be taking care of my girls. But I’m doing a shite job I guess.”

He stifles his laugh. I try to stifle the pang in my chest when he says 'my girls’ because it meant nothing more than just words. I couldn’t afford to read into these things. But when Harry switches the pillow to my lap and lays his head down, all self-control gets chucked out he door.

“It’s been so long since we talked,” Harry tries to whisper again. He reaches out to touch my hair again, his fingers lingering on my face before lowering to his side again.

“You came to LA a lot,” in my statement is also an accusation. He never came in to my apartment or asked me to go out.

“You never invited me in,” Harry says quietly.

“Surely I did?” I tell him.

“No,” his reply is almost a sigh. I realise maybe I didn’t make it so explicit.

“My mistake,” I admit. “But you know you were always welcomes.” I trace the bridge of his nose.

“I know,” Harry says with a boyish smile. “I was slightly nervous when we were on your terf. I didn’t ask either-you’re right.”

Involuntarily I brush my fingers through Harry's hair. Instantly, his body relaxes with a sigh as he closes his eyes. So I remove my hand immediately and nudge him.

“I should go to bed,” I wait for him to clumsily get up. We walk to the stairs together where Harry wishes me goodnight. He leans foward and misses my forehead by an inch, kissing my eyebrow instead.

“Night,” I back away into the spare where Charlotte sleeps, rubbing my eyebrow. In bed, I try to sort through my feelings. My eyes land on the sleeping body next to me and I pull her into me. She was all I needed, I try to remind myself. I was only here for her. Harry and I were never getting together again.

[buskerjaskier]

Get to know me better! Thanks for tagging me @basskier! I haven’t done one of these in quite some time, so this was a fun throwback :-)

Relationship status: I’ve got a girlfriend - we like watching silly shows together and getting drunk. She endorse all my bad ideas. 

Favourite colour: Black isn’t a colour, but it’s black. And green, which everyone can probably tell because I always end up using green backgrounds for my arts/edits. 

Favourite food: I do love the simplicity of a good prawn sandwich (open) with avocado and mayo, with a cold pint. 

Song stuck in my mind: Running up that hill, but a silly “opera”-version I like to sing to my dog.

Last thing you googled: Psychophysics. Don’t come for me, I’m doing a lecture on it. 

Time: It is almost half past nine in the evening here :) 

Dream trip: Getting whisked away on some magic adventure that will take several years and endanger all my travelling companions to throw a cursed ring in a volcano. 

Last thing you read: The Last Wish by Andrzej Sapkowski (in case someone is wondering, my last google search was  Andrzej Sapkowski ‘s name, cause spelling?)

Last book you enjoyed reading: I enjoyed reading the last wish, except the parts where I was enraged at how Netflix managed to butcher Geralt’s friendship with Dandelion this badly. Jaskier wasn’t even AT Pavetta’s betrothal! Stop blaming Jaskier for your own stupidity, Geralt!

Last book you hated reading: I really tried to read a Throne of Glass  because of the hype, but I absolutely couldn’t get behind the protag. Soz.

Favourite thing to cook/bake: Cinnamon rolls (scandi-style), because then I get to eat them afterwards. 

Favourite craft to do in your free time: My most recent, recent search history is now “is writing a craft?” and it turns out google doesn’t know either. 

Most niche dislike: Clothes tags. That shit gives me full body-convulsions. 

Opinion on circuses: Unethical. Animals? Mistreated. Employees? Underpaid. Hotel? Trivago. (The Greatest Showman is a fantastic movie though).

Do you have any sense of direction: I could probably not lead us off a cliff if we went hiking. 

Tell us about your D&D character: I don’t know a lot of people who play D&D, unfortunately. Maybe just as well, because I do tend to get a little too obsessed with things. My brain can only handle one obsession at a time. 

I’mma tag my pal @nicestmeangirl :) 

[dindooku]

ask game - about me

tagged by @zapsalis-d - hope ur good boo xo

the rules: tag eight a few people you would like to get to know better

relationship status: taken - 4 years strong bby

favourite colour: tbh i don’t really have a favourite colour; it’s very dependant on my mood - but if i were forced to pick - it’d have to be blue

three favourite foods: chocolate (big fan), garlic bread (heavenly) and i absolutely dig a good ol’ english roast

last thing i googled: ice gem uk; so - basically, i am at uni and living in halls. the people i share my halls with are from asia (singapore, malaysia etc) and we were chatting about childhood staples. a classic british childhood staple was ice gems - and i couldn’t describe it so had to show them. they were confused.

time: 16:16PM

dream trip: i have always, always wanted to visit sweden; specifically a massive road trip of the place. my dad left school at 14 to drive arctic’s around the world with his dad about 45 years ago, and he always tells amazing stories of his time up north. it always seems so serene and peaceful, and with its rich nordic/viking history i am hooked.

tell me what you really, really want: corrr, what a question. what i really want? see, i could go down the whole global peace route - which don’t get me wrong, would be marvellous - but if i were to be selfish; i would absolutely love to buy my parents house so they don’t have to pay their mortgage and move out. it breaks my heart every time we chat about it because my parents have done nothing but work to give my sister and i the best lives they possibly could. i was born and raised there - in the middle of nowhere in a bungalow, living for the last 10 years on the sofa so my younger sister could have a bedroom - yet despite this; i wouldn’t change my experience for anything. i really did have a proper, wild and free childhood and even though i wish i could’ve had family holidays or fancy gadgets, i learned true lessons. i know how to fix cars, change taps and repair boilers. i want my parents to have the quiet life they always wanted and deserved. so, in conclusion - what i really want is for my mum and dad to be able to grow old together in the middle of the british countryside; just how they deserve.

:)

no pressure to complete it!!!

soz if you’ve already been tagged: @mandah-lorian @incorrect-mando @max--phillips @pedropascalisathot @stuckinthesuezcanal

[pavlikovskaya]

the secret history live blogged

forever mad that i got spoilered so much on this book.

anyway hello! and welcome to this … shit fest of the secret history by donna tartt aka the biggest letdown of my life

enjoy! i didn’t

ok whaatttt the fuck. he was walked over?? he was packed and squished under ice?? WHAT DID THIS BUNNY GUY DO TO MAKE Y’ALL SO MAD????? istg what the fuck. cruel cruel fate

four against one, i knew y’all were assholes. you sounded like assholes before i even knew what your names were.

i have to say, i’m not a very big fan on the beginning: hello, my name is richard, i am 28, this is my story. makes it sound like he’s in an AA meeting, but i’ll let this one slide.

years at home dispensable like a plastic cup? fictional history and upbringing tales? [*clears throat in relatable*]

my father was mean, my house ugly, my mum didn’t give me attention, must kill someone to cope and serve the aesthetic™ of rejected, unloved child, brooding and mad at the world. got it.

if richard, plain and poor is the one who kills the rich asshole bc he’s a rich asshole, i might relate to him more than i thought.

[*slams book shut*] okay. okay. am i gonna have to google every other phrase in this godforsaken history book or is donna gonna go easy on my ass?

sounds like a university i would love to go to. oh, pardon me, CoLlEgE.

wait, they’d pay him back for the plane if he GOT IN??? and if he didn’t well then what, soz dude, tough luck , such is life, see ya never? makes a lot of sense. should pay him back regardless imo but hey, i had to pay £50 six times to audition at universities who, all six times, rejected me, so.

three days on a bus and arrival at six in the morning? i cannot fathom a worse scenario.

this prof conducts his selection on a personal level rather than on an academic one, said with a note of sarcasm? is he … you know … ?

ahhhh these saucy saucy tea spilling french people, gotta love em. ‘listen, i know i’ve only met you three minutes ago, but i’m bout to spill some serious tea which i must ask you to keep to yourself and never mention for i have some formidable enemies in the literature division, yes, my very own department, but we all actually love each other. you know, in a very shakespearian ‘i shall murder you at the end of the play but for now, let’s make sweet love under the stars as a witch friend of mine who will later murder you watches’ way. all very platonic. but don’t say a word of it.’

who do you think was with morrow when richard came to see him in the lyceum and what were they talking about? GODDAMN IT, this french bastard put me in a gossipy mood.

bunny — short for edmund…….

god, i love a redhead.

richard and me being whipped by francis and his long, flapping black coats, love to see it.

‘pseudo-intellects and teenage decadents abounded and black clouting was de rigueur’ can I enrol ~now~????

francis talks to cats and bunny yells from his window down at the incest twins to stop snogging in the garden. i can’t wait to see which one am I at the end of the book

henry and julian driving off together? do i smell something…. gay?

THEY WRITE WITH FOUNTAIN PENS????? [*flashbacks from my childhood intensify*].

i do not understand most of these references or sentences and if the whole book is like this, i will throw myself out the window in attempted suicide even though i live on the ground floor.

i have absolutely no idea what they’re on about.

hwhat

francis in black cashmere and cigarette smoke brushed past him and almost touched his arm. how bloody delicious is this??

‘give him some flowers and he’ll enrol you.’ ok, julian is definitely the gay prof everyone falls for.

at this stage, i would rater have voted we kill henry, not bunny, but we’ll see.

‘i was tired of being poor.’ [*buys a tie with pictures of men hunting deer on it*] ‘that’s better.’

‘i believe that it is better to know one book intimately than a hundred superficially.’ donna tartt gave me the book and the reason both.

constantly chuckling at the way richard is so completely mesmerised and intimidated by francis to the point that he’ll duck into a doorway to let him pass even though they’re going to the same lesson.

I don’t know how a ‘bostonian voice’ is supposed to sound like so francis will be slightly british in my mind for the rest of the book.

cubitum eamus? cubitum. eamus? CUBITUM?? EAMUS????? OH! GOD! HELP ME! THE SWEET SWEET HOMOEROTIC FORESHADOWING OF IT ALL!!! throwback to when, in a much too similar vein, boris, upon being asked by theo to say something in russian for him, he said ‘fuck you up the ass’. my heart is racing with yearn. i can’t fucking believe i just read this. it’s time to bust out the annotation tabs again.

oh my gooooddd whAt is henry’s problem????? he reminds me slightly of number one from the umbrella academy, but in a meaner, more show-offy, bastardish way that’s supposed to showcase his superior intelligence over all mortals like fuck you, go read harry potter and chill.

‘meke (s.p.) you Wear it’? i take it meke is actually make but what on earth is (s.p.)? google gave me 238 possible definitions for that acronym and, needless to say, i didn’t bother.

i love how donna’s main characters are funny essentially bc they’re bitches towards other people they deem inferior to them in their internal monologues.

if you were drunk and ‘slam-dancing’ at a party, i don’t have to be stuck up or elitist to judge you and hate on you. even less so if you throw your beer in my face.

‘love that jacket, silk, isn’t it?’ ‘yep, my grandfather’s. totally not from that annoying girl in my dorm whose mate your mates beat up at a party last term for shoving camilla and throwing a beer in her face and who probably only gave me the jacket because she wants to fuck me, nope.’

‘let me get that door for you.’ that’s it, that’s the tweet.

when bunny said they should round up the ‘officious fags and burn them at the stake’ i yelled the loudest what the fuck i’ve ever yelled at a book. i can see now why they killed him. and i bet that’s only the tip of the iceberg.

okay, his true colours are starting to show. it’s even more unnerving when i think about the fact that like half of this stuff is supposed to be true.

called it, they’re boning.

i can’t wait until francis locks lips with richard. i am simply tingling for it. i hope he and camilla have a threesome with richard at this country house. oh wait no, they’re all here. eh, maybe another time.

oh, we finally get some juicy inside gossip

if francis and richard don’t fuck in that gorgeous immense library, i will riot.

okay, what’s henry’s deal? he’s nice now? and he’s oddly … interested in/caring towards richard? like who the fuck says ‘i hope you slept well’ without at least a little affection towards them.

AHAHAHAAHA, NOW I GET ALL THOSE MOON LANDING QUESTIONS ON THE TSH RELATED UQIZZES I STUPIDLY TOOK. I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS REAL. imagine them lot in present day completely bewildered and confused at the fact that the whole world is in lockdown for some weird fucking reason. this is the funniest shit ever, swear to god.

dogs get heart attacks?

wow they’re being dicks. that shady shit they’re doing’s so fucking rude aajksdhfkfh and to think i had initially thought richard was the ‘leader’ of their group...

okay, they’re either all into bdsm or they’re some odd breed of late vampires who don’t have much of the traits/qualities of ‘classic’ vampires as they have possibly diminished over the centuries as the species was becoming extinct. maybe witches. hm. or occultists. I REALLY DON’T KNOW!!

richard be like ‘what should I tell you?’ well—and this is merely a suggestion—, how about you start with what they’re actually doing when they’re not hanging out with you?????

i can’t wait for bunny to figure/find out richard’s not actually rich and be a dick about it.

two months??? what kind of bonkers winter vacation between terms is that???

is being constantly cold part of the dark academia aestehtic? cos it certainly seems to be.

what the fuck are these (sp)s bunny keeps putting in his letters??

i hope somebody (henry, or maybe francis? as something that would bring them together?) is fake rich too.

ouuuuu here comes the dark, mental stuff.

richard dropped out of drama to study the classics. if we were villains is a group of people studying shakespeare. coincidence? i think not. it is with dread that i think at the possibility that i might like the other more because so far, i can’t say i’m heavily impressed with tsh.

now i’m all for weird, fancy names, but marchbanks is really an odd one. who the fuck looks at their newborn baby and goes ben? nah. tom? no. MARCHBANKS! perfect.

henry winter saves richard from a piping cold winter. ah, don’t bother, i’ll do it myself [*jumps out the window*]

henry dislikes electric lights? smokes cigarettes without filter? reads milton translated into latin ‘just to see if a language with no noun cases could possibly support the structural order he attempts to impose’? can this dude be any more pretentious?

BUNNY! IT’S BUNNY! HE’S FAKE RICH THE BASTARD! ALL THAT ‘oops, forgot my wallet’ BULLSHIT, I THOUGHT IT WAS A TEST FOR RICHARD OR JUST RICH PEOPLE LEECHING OFF OTHERS (why spend yours when you can spend theirs?) BUT NOOOO, HE’S BROOOOKE! AND AN ASSHOLE! WHAT AN ASSHOLE!!! serves him right, the asshole (that gay people being burnt at the stake comment really bothered me despite the fact that i laughed). and not only is he broke and leeching off of henry, he leeches in the most shameless, greedy, extravagant and ignorant way, ordering the most expensive thing on the menu fuck out of here.

ha! he got fat the bastard. found some sugar daddy to sustain you during your last month in italy or what?

this rabbit dude sure has some big balls for a broke ass bitch.

‘let me see your head wound.’ vs ‘your arm.’

‘that sort of tension which i, being rather more disinclined that way than not, am quick to pick up on. i had caught a strong breath of it from francis, a whiff of it at times from julian (…)’ sounds like we got another one boys, a straight dude with the best gaydar in the world. that being said, julian is the fakest bitch in the book so far.

this secrecy is killing the ever-loving shit out of me. argentina one way?? whY

lol if you’re gonna steal his book with the intention of having him come back to the apartment and see all that shit, at least don’t put it in such an obvious place where he couldn’t have possibly missed it. for such a smart guy, you sure are dumb, dude.

francis’ mother be like ‘give that bad boy a kiss from me’ and i’m like HE BETTER.

richard the worst liar. just say your mum called for fuck’s sake! you could get your boyfriend in trouble!

cheesecake cover: ‘please do not steal this, i am on financial aid.’ bunny: [*steals it*] the cheesecake: [*sucks*] me: serves you fucking right, pig.

THINKING ABOUT HIS HANDICAP. I’M YELLING. funniest thing donna tartt ever wrote.

i bet they’re all there sat at the table like nothing happened and weren’t supposed to leave anywhere at all.

called it! motherfuckers.

what the hell is going on. are they a gang of assassins or something?

richard: ‘you killed somebody, didn’t you?’ henry: [*laughs as if it was the most ridiculous idea in the world and how could you possibly suggest such a thing*] yep

bunny: gays are weirdly obsessed with food, don’t you think? also bunny: [*gets excluded from the bacchanal because he couldn’t stop eating*]

okay. i can see now why this book started the whole dark academia aesthetic

aight, that’s all good and great (far from it) but WHERE IS MY FRANCIS CONTENT????

going through the motions of hating and liking henry every other chapter.

everybody: [*burning clothes, cleaning the car, running this way and that to get rid of evidence*] francis: aight y’all imma take a power nap real quick cool? cool

there is hardly anything in the world i hate more than loose-of-tongues. bunny and that bitch ass hely from the little friend. god, i want to sock each and every single one of them in their stupid bloody loud mouths.

i want to know, i really want to know if there are any bunny apologists or … s…. s… [*grits teeth*] stans out there. don’t worry, nothing will happen to you, i just wanna talk.

if it’s henry and richard and not francis and richard,,,,, i will riot.

boy this henry guy smokes a lot…. more than me in my prime.

as if this dude reenacted the murder he wasn’t even present at in the lobby of a hotel just to torture henry. i can’t believe this character is still alive and has been for so long.

FINALLY! one francis moment that indicated there will be no more francis moments…. .

funny that, reading the secret history put something into perspective about the goldfinch for me.

i love how richard just casually throws it in there whenever he happens to mention camilla that he loves her and wants to kiss her and that she’s so beautiful and blah blah blah and then it’s never brought up again ever because he’s constantly going on and on about henry.

wait, don’t tell me it’s happening now, in the middle of the book! that would be most unexpected as there’s a whole entire book following.

henry is such a stone cold bitch, i wonder where they put his heart when they made him, in his ass?

don’t tell me henry went boxer dogs on JULIAN?!?!?! he wouldn’t. … would he?

i don’t know. i get it, obviously, the gravity of the situation, but going as far as killing him to silence him is a bit … extreme in my opinion.

thank you, charles, for being the only voice of reason in this madness.

okay, i understand it’s in richard’s best interest not to be involved, but they called him there to what, make him listen to all this and then send him on his merry way?

charles: well, if you wake up intending to murder someone at two o’clock, you hardly think of what you’re going to feed the copse for dinner. [*crickets*] francis: hey, how about asparagus?

henry: someone’s coming. quick! act normal! richard: [*turns to inspect the trunk of a tree*] [*footsteps approach*] richard: [*inspection of tree intensifies!!*]

you’re a bit late, bunny, just saying.

and now what the fuck is the rest of the book about? what do we do, let’s run, let’s stay, let’s go to the police, what do we do with him?

i love how richard describes himself as part of the process: we dwelt on it, we convinced ourselves, we devised plans when in reality, he was only there as an attaché, he wasn’t included much, almost at all in the actual planning process of it other than to give his insight on the poison route because henry thought it was his area of expertise so to speak when, really, it wasn’t and then was told about the other plan because they simply thought he should know. even then henry tells him ‘you can go now, if you like’ because there wasn’t anything they sort of needed him for anymore since he wasn’t going to be there, he was just a pair of ears. i like to think he was there in hopes to maybe dissuade them, try to stop them, tell them how mad it is, tell them there’s another way, but he didn’t do much of that either (not that I think he would’ve succeeded anyway, had he tried, henry’s one stubborn motherfucker). he didn’t come up with shit, he wasn’t supposed to even be there, i think, much less contribute in any way. had bunny not told him about the bacchanal, richard would have probably found out about it after it was already done, he was only included for the fucks of it and yet, he talks as if he was right there in the room with them, brainstorming ideas how to kill him. and i get how it only comes from a sense of obvious guilt because he knew about it, he was there and didn’t do anything to stop it, but he’s by far not one to have agreed to the whole thing or condoned it in any way from what he’s told us in book one. he himself says in the very same paragraph that he only watched. he’s very much a dark academia nick carraway type of character and i hate it. because i like him. he deserves better.

i’m pretty sure that the reason that serial killer autobiography you picked up in an airport was bereft of details is because no publishing house would allow such lurid specifications that might shock, disgust, enrage or give ideas to the reader in their book, not because the author is shy, richard, but ok, let’s move on. actually no, let’s not. you can’t expect the autobiography of a killer to only tell you about the murders, especially since in this particular instance, he was caught and went to prison. of course he’s going to tell you more about that than the killings, have you any idea what prison life is like? how much it eats away at your soul? how it crushes your spirit if you have one and how hard it is to get over? the time he spent in jail is going to haunt him forever and after such a long time in there, however long it was, you hardly think about your crime as anything but a huge mistake that was not worth the torment if you’re not a downright psychopath which, since he came out and wrote a book about it, doesn’t seem to be the case here but i guess you’ll find out all about it soon enough.

OH! a francis moment???? could this be it? please dear god may this be it.

it wasn’t, but there’s another one!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

‘it’s fun, i promise you.’ [*dies*]

if this is it, if that’s all, i am not forgiving this book.

‘i tried to pull him out but it was no good; his head lolled back uselessly’ YEAH. BECAUSE HE’S DEAD, RICHARD. [*scoffs*] ‘uselessly’

i wish i held any of my teachers and professors in at least half the high regard henry holds julian. i also wish they were half as competent and passionate about teaching as julian.

I DON’T BELIEVE ‘HE WAS JUST THERE’. IT’S BORIS AND THEO AT 6 AM IN THAT NEW YORK BAR ALL OVER AGAIN. HE’S ONLY SAYING THAT BECAUSE RICHARD WENT ALL ‘YOU’RE NOT HOT’ ON HIS ASS AND I REFUSE TO BELIEVE OTHERWISE. if they don’t kiss again—

i can’t help but admire the way they communicate sensitive information to each other in ancient greek, they sound like characters from jane austen novels while talking about drugs and saving face from tabloids and gossip, it’s rather amazing.

quite pointless to go through all that trouble to hide the cigarettes and deny having been smoking when the smell will be there no matter what and she’ll know for sure. i swear, all these seemingly smart ass people are actually idiots

my question is why would anyone, drunk or not, for any reason, leave the top down in the rain? why? what possible pleasure could one get from driving in the middle of the rain with rain actually pouring down on them?

isn’t linoleum a bit tacky for a house that looks like it’s been in architectural digest?

why is charles so on edge? why are they all always hiding??? camilla and her late night 3 am phone calls, her secret phone code with henry, charles mysteriously going out for cigarettes so brusquely without a word in the middle of the night and refusing to talk about it, what are they all always hiding?! nobody trusts one another with anything, it’s very annoying, to be honest. aren’t they supposed to be super best friends? you’d think that after a bacchanal and a double homicide, you wouldn’t keep secrets from one another, but i guess not.

ah, shame. was kind of hoping for some sneaky richard/francis basement action, but alas. what’s their ship name anyway, richis?

i just spoilered myself again, twice, by going through the tsh tag on tumblr and then looking for francis/richard fanfics on ao3 and finding out that francis marries? gets with? a girl who’s apparently called fucking priscilla. donna tartt really has a knack for weird fancy names, huh? i’m here for it tbh

richard you fucking snitch! you had one job!!!!!!

why the fuck are they still keeping him in the dark about shit? henry and charles quarrelled and charles is in jail and henry still won’t tell him what’s so bad about it and why he wants richard to handle all this shit instead of him and why bunny’s murder still matters and why why just why are they still using him as their pawn??

seriously, this exchange was about the worst they’ve had so far. he himself knows it: ‘there was a silence during which I felt acutely the hopelessness of ever trying to get to the bottom of anything with henry. he was like a propagandist, routinely withholding information, leaking it only when it served his purposes.’ THEN WALK AWAY. SAY NO. PUT YOUR FOOT DOWN. FUCKING—UGH!!!!!!!

they’re all so shamelessly using him… i can’t read. it’ll kill him, one way or another.

these ungrateful little shits i swear to god. richard bails him out, he’s all thankful and sweet when he wants him to do ‘this one little favour’ of taking him to his francis’ house so he can break in and when richard’s like i don’t have a car, he immediately turns sour and passive aggressive like you know what?! richard hasn’t slept all night and all morning waiting for your ass to go to court cos you were a drunken idiot and decided YET AGAIN that driving in that state is a great idea so he can bail you out and when you are finally out, you start being fussy and then it’s all ‘right. thanks a lot’??? richard doesn’t fucking need this shit! y’all are horrible friends. he’s not your bloody servant. how about you take that stick and privilege out of your asses and start treating him a bit more kindly, huh???

‘henry made me swear not to tell.’ WHAT. WHAT. BITCH, GET THE FUCK OUT.

this is by far the most toxic friendship i’ve ever heard of.

oh wow that kiss was hot. i thought it was just a speculation that they were incestuous with each other, but i-i guess not.

FINALLY it gets interesting. Mr Abernathy spilling some piping hot tea mmm

he literally just said i’d sleep with you if you got drunk enough to let me. oh dear god help me.

oh fuck it got sad. It’s patrick and brad all over again ugh always happens to the best of gays

finally richard my boy starts hating them, as he should. except francis, you’re a dick in that respect. he’s only joking for fuck’s sake, don’t get all butthurt, jesus. sensitive much?

uuuuuu tunts Tunts TUNTS! shit is hitting the fan. henry, henry, henry, our ‘golden boy’. nothing but a crook himself, the motherfucker. i’ve been waiting for this reveal since the beginning of the fucking book. if they gang up on him and kill him, i will never stop laughing.

it’s as if he’s begging to be excluded and hated, i swear. why is he being such a prick? does he love her? is that it? then there are a BILLION other ways to go about it, he doesn’t have to be such a shady bitch!! besides, wasn’t he in cahoots with julian?

‘i was depressed, i thought if i slept here it might make me feel better.’ that’s so precious tho….. funny, but precious. such child-like innocence in this grown ass intoxicated man, i melt.

clever, luring him out of the playground under the false pretext of a drink when he’s had plenty. think like a drunk

the only consistent, recurring and ever-present elements in donna tartt’s books are the hors d’oeuvres.

it’s so cute how charles needs him, i—

girls be like: watching a film, listening to a podcast, talking on the phone, having dinner, figure painting, filing nails, writing an essay and doing their makeup all at the same time

this so called love he feels for camilla is so unfounded and feeble and just … it seems so out of the fucking blue every single time he mentions it, i can’t read this shit. IT’S SO SEE-THROUGH!!

okay WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK DID I JUST READ. WHAT. THE ACTUAL. MOTHERFUCKING. FUCK. one second he’s ‘i love her so much’ the next he wants to strangle and rape her?????????????? i have zero goddamn words. i am fucking speechless. i don’t think i have ever been this confused at something since i watched the turning. i don’t think you realise quite how done i am with this fucking book at this point.

i think i do hate henry more than bunny and i’m afraid i’ll like if we were villains better.

richard: [*takes sleeping pills*] also richard: [*surprised he can’t keep up with the film he started watching after taking sleeping pills*]

‘look,’ said francis. ‘let’s just go, if we leave now we can be in montreal by dark. nobody will ever find us.’ vs ‘well, i’m not going,’ said boris serenely. ‘fuck that, i’m running away. do you want to come?’

this henry bitch is the most difficult piece of shit i’ve ever fucking encountered. ‘you mean, it’s something you need to tell me in private?’ oh FUCK OFF AND STEP OUTSIDE, FOR FUCK’S SAKE. IT’S ONE THING I ASK OF YOU, YOU TWAT.

huh, i thought he was doing this shit on purpose, leaving the page face down on the table so that julian could see it, i thought it was some sick twisted plan of his.

lmao called it. everybody saw through julian’s façade except richard and the others and i completely understand. in a fashion much like julian’s, i think he knew that, he saw it, but just chose to ignore it because the image he posed and richard himself constructed of him in his mind was much more favourable to what he really was. i mean, fuck, who the fuck says ‘i hope we are all ready to leave the phenomenal world and enter into the sublime’ with their whole chest and mean it?

if you think he’s not coming, why sit in silence staring out the window, ignoring everyone and wasting everybody’s time instead of telling them from the very start this piece of information you have on hand that could save everybody a lot of trouble, time and overthinking? why be all mysterious and enigmatic about it? just tell them from the start, you’re not in a film for fuck’s sake……..

charles, one of the four of them (henry, camilla, julian and himself) might be the one i despise the least, almost like had he not been so brutal towards camilla,,,, but i don’t know if i can trust her, that whole scene seemed … staged somehow. i don’t know. i don’t know

didn’t expect henry would turn on julian too though. first real thing he’s done all book.

agatha

christie

writes

good

mysteries.

richard does seem like the type of fellow who would grow up in a household where his dad would strike his mum for no fucking reason.

okay so did henry punch him for that comment or not? what was all that father beating mother bit for?

#boysweekendinthecountry! 🤪 #partytime! #ignoringourproblems! #woooo!!!

oh my fucking god chARLES!!!

yes, henry, great, brilliant, fucking splendid idea to antagonise the man pointing a gun at you.

MY PAUL SMITH SHIRT!!!!!!!!! AHAHAHASFSHDGFDK

i love how absolutely nobody noticed fucking richard BLEEDING RIGHT NEXT TO THEM

‘expected everyone to stop and look at me. no one did.’ and they never will. that’s your whole friendship summed up in two lines. you don’t matter to them, you never did, you’re absolutely unimportant. just a tool, a pawn, a nobody. sorry you had to get shot to realise that.

‘’he shot me.’ somehow, this remark did not elicit the dramatic response i expected. before i had the chance to elaborate—’ ELABORATE WHAT? ELABORATE WHAT?! THAT’S ALL YOU NEED TO SAY!! GOD, this hurts to read. this angers me beyond words, but it also fucking hurts so bad…

nothing, not even getting shot can make richard lose his wit

disGUSTING henry and camilla moment. I HATE THEM

oh shit. did not see that coming. well, glad that’s over.

ugh, time to read how francis got hetero married :\

[*chokes*] DUE TO THE VERY EXCELLENT EXCUSE OF HAVING A GUNSHOT WOUND IN THE STOMACH I DIDN’T TAKE MY FRENCH EXAM YAY!!! god, i fucking love Richard.

the thing is, right, i read that line, ‘i managed to get out of taking my french exams the next week’ about three or four times and somehow, the following line or even the words ‘gunshot wound’ never made it to my eyes! i don’t understand how! but i’m completely happy about that given the fact that i spoiler myself on every single book i read by reading ahead like an idiot..

how much do you want to bet that it was the inn keep who called the ambulance and not those fuckers? because of course henry, dead henry’s more important than slowly dying, almost dead but not quite richard.

despite everything, it sounds like he had a nice summer in brooklyn. good for him. god knows he deserved it, the poor guy.

yeah no, fuck henry’s post-mortem hero narrrative.

lol, at least he got a nice car out of it. this book shows me once again that things happen just the way they should happen.

OH MY FUCKING GOD NO. NO. NO. NO. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! I CANNOT READ. I DO NOT SEE. I REFUSE TO COMPREHEND THIS PIECE OF INFORMATION.

i will not say a WORD on this, much less his letter. i am hurt, i am wounded, i am grieving, my head is full of thots and i cannot speak. i died on this bed.

ugh [*rolls eyes*] this fucking guy again with his sudden, out of my ass declarations of love towards camilla. JUST GIVE IT UP ALREADYYYYYYYY!!! TELL IT TO SOMEONE WHO CARES!!! (francis) i wouldn’t be surprised if she was married or engaged and just didn’t bother to mention it ‘because he never asked’ or some bullshit excuse like that.

I HATE HENRY I HATE HENRY I HATE HENRY I HATE HENRY [*deep breath*] I FUCKING HATE HENRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

he’s telling me about all these people and where they ended up after graduation but not only do i not give a single solitary fuck, i actually don’t know who the fuck he’s talking about?? like who the fuck is bram guernesnesnica? rooney wayne? what the fuck do i care what jack jud and frank did?

the only people i do remotely care about are the professors (the saucy french teacher and the boring, senile dude who wouldn’t shut up and who kept referring to richard as ‘jerry’ in his grad school recommendations letter ahahah that is the content i signed up for, not dumb and dumber’s bar or whatever) and the cat charles left at francis’ country house who lives in a ten fucking room apartment in boston.

love how ionic the whole marion storyline turned out to be. marred another corcoran who looked just like bunny and had a daughter who, despite having her and his mother’s name ended up being nicknamed also bunny. i’m sorry, i just—i have to laugh.

[*slams fists on the table*] THE AGENTS??? YOU’RE GONNA TELL ME ABOUT THE BLOODY FBI AGENTS???!!!!!! CAN THIS BOOK PLEASE JUST FUCKING END ALREADY??????!!!!!!!!

a dream. a dream. if it’s a dream of henry i will personally shoot you and make sure i aim a little higher than your abdomen this time.

[*shoots the book*]

oh, you died and suddenly you have a sense of humour?

‘that information is classified’ [*shoots a torpedo at the book*]

‘are you happy?’ / ‘not very.’ vs ‘are you happy here?’ / ‘not particularly.’

okay. so. final thoughts: fuck this book.

good night

[rvmmm21]

Wendy loves Irene, but Irene doesn't know it yet? Soft stalker Wendy please...? ;o

wait a sec. how do you softly stalk someone. D: guise ngl i might take yandere off my thing cos i thought i was eugh but boy oh boy... some of the stuff you ask me. no wonder you guys are on anon lol. 

also, soz this took so long. i’m done with exams so the stress isn’t making me write fast anymore. ):

...

To have it all just out of arm’s reach.

On Monday, Joohyun wears a pastel pink cashmere pullover over a grey jersey tank top and a pair of work slacks. Tuesday, she leaves in an elegant Vetements body-con dress with red-bottom heels. Day-off Wednesdays are for late morning coffees and messy hair buns on the way to the park after last night’s dinner with friends, and she sports a matching Adidas tracksuit; different colour every time. Although it’s undeniable she looks best when she dons her baggy black Balenciaga Political Campaign hoodie, sweater paws and all, with charcoal sweatpants, pin-rolled at the cuffs. Weekends are superior by far.

The pain is beautiful.

Every Sunday night, she steps out in washed-out flip flops, crinkled pyjama bottoms and a fuzzy hood draped over her head. The crease in her brows, the crinkles in the corners of her eyes and the upturn of her mouth gives away crystal clearly how she feels about taking the rubbish out to the bins. Her friends take up most of her free time, be it picnics under the shade of the mammoth oak tree just outside her apartment, sneaky ice lollys after a hard gym session, or a shoulder to cry on and a heart-warming smile. It is obvious Joohyun goes out of her way to make time for the people she cares about. Selflessness, grace and compassion frame her better than any painting in the Louvre.

The lament; absolutely gorgeous.

Her little quirks are too adorable to ignore; the way she’s her cosiest when she’s curled up with her nose in a book, knees pulled up to her chest and folded neatly into herself. It’s so cute the way she hides her flustered smile behind her palm, when she hastily wipes tears away after a devastating tv episode, her rose quartz blush when she spots a random couple kissing by the corner of the street. She’s her happiest after a warm shower, when she gets to put on her favourite Champion hoodie fresh out the dryer. She spends the rest of the day intermittently burying her snout into the tunnel of her sleeve and taking the deepest breaths she’s seen a person take, ever. Joohyun has a downright thing for good smells.

Speaking of good smells…

She breezes by the park bench sometimes, and the scent of minty vanilla crawls beneath her skin. Her laugh has every bone in her body aching with cherry blossoms and sweet cyanide; bright, airy, full of mirth. Her voice; soft-spoken. To press chaste kisses to strawberry macchiato pouts, to spend each day gazing upon ethereal features, to watch eyelashes flutter when she kisses her once again for good measure; she wants to adore absolutely everything about her. Seeing Joohyun upset and not being able to catch every crystalline drop out of those twinkling eyes twists the clamp around her heart several notches tighter. Doing everything at once or nothing at all, she’s endearing, and she finds herself willing to gamble everything she owns for a chance to get to know the woman behind the smile. The woman who’s had stars sewn into her soul by the galaxy itself. Even in the dead of night, Joohyun bathes her in her dazzling golden rays. Dilated pupils observe her world through rose-tinted lenses.

Seungwan glances down at the recycled notebook in her hands, gently flipping through the mindless doodles; some rushed, some immaculately detailed, depending on how long she was out for that day. Each sketch is labelled with bendy arrows and bullet notes, like a sloppy year 7 science poster; her outfits, colours, the weather, and several weeks’ worth of scribbled down medium espresso orders from the local coffee shop. Eyes roll fondly at that one time Joohyun mistook the salt for the sugar, sheer disgust and embarrassment stencilled onto her pretty features as she proceeded to order another one. So cute.

“Just waiting for my girlfriend,” she blurts absently, not actually having heard what the man passing by had asked her but churning out one of her automated replies out of habit. It was usually what they wanted to know, so it was usually the right answer. Some of the faces, the older ones, she recognises. They’re regulars at the park she sits at, probably getting their steps in.

Only half of her dreadfully practiced response is true, but Seungwan can’t bring herself to see why that’s a problem.

Because it isn’t.

Yes, watching Joohyun hurts her in ways unimaginable, but every day Seungwan sits across her residence, she is one day closer to figuring out how she’ll slip herself into Joohyun’s life. She’s already equipped with a handful of possible scenarios, all that’s left to do is pick one and strike when the iron is hot. So, till that day comes, she is more than content to just be here, park bench or not, rain or shine, and watch her do it all over again.

As pastel hydrangea clouds eclipse the sun, she concludes another chapter in her self-written bible of everything there is to know about the woman who’s yet to know her.

She inhales, slow and deep, imagining the vanilla mint fragrance stroking her lungs.

Joohyun is a waiting game, and Seungwan will wait as long as she needs to.

[borisbubbles]

25. PORTUGAL

Elisa - “Medo de sentir”

We’ve finally crossed over into the “I like this” territory :-) Let’s celebrate by booting another ballad ^_^

Song Analysis

This will be short and sweet though, since there isn’t much to say. “Medo de sentir” basically the Marie Myriam of its national final: It is a cromulent ballad that did nothing wrong and is solidly good, but not great in all the relevant areas (vocals, composition, staging). 

I mean,

Even so, Elisa gave me a few small nuggets that warmed me to her, serving DRAMAFACE in the FdC Semi

and LOOKS in the Finale: 

Peach puffy sleeves that rival Leonor Andrade’s legendary shoulder pads as a fashion statement <3 (honestly, this is pretty subdued for FdC fashion even? Hold on until I get talk about Felipe in the NF Corner) 

Honestly, you may wonder why I like this more than “Répondez-moi”, but I don’t really have a reason  - unless you’re willing to accept “Medo de sentir is underrated, is performed by a Weird Indie Girl and is from a criminally overlooked Eurovision country” as valid argumentations. Oh and while I only *very* mildly like Elisa, it is a decision I made myself, completely free of the social pressure I feel whenever Gjon, or heaven forbid, Roxen or Diodato, pop up. 

Furthermore, the fact that I still like Elisa even after she won her NF also speaks greatly in her favour. I’m not sure if you were aware of how good FdC was this year? Well, sit down because you are about to witness it!

NF Corner

Remember how old Eesti Laul’s neck was snapped and its corpse was urinated on by the shit Estonians? Remember how the quirky indie weirdo entries had to find a safe haven elsewhere in Europe? The Portugese hallmark traits of “Not Giving A Fuck”, “Doing Our Own Thing No Matter What” and “What Do You Mean This Isn’t A Vimeo Showreel?” allowed for Festival da Canção to absorb Eesti Laul’s broken spirit and channel it from every (Ley-La-)Ley-Line.

and since this is the first *GREAT* 2020 NF I am covering, I will do HONORABLE MENTIONS before I actually review my four choices :o

Dubio - “Ceguiera”: Hamburglar-looking goddess <3333

MEERA - “Copo de gin”: Pure EL-style EDM *and* it’s about drinking gin, needless to say this song is basically *my anthem*.  Jimmy P - “Abensonhado”: Rap rarely is my thing, let alone three minutes of it non-stop. Having said that, this is genuine and dramatic and Jimmy is flanked by a GOSPEL CHOIR (dressed in chasubles!!!) who support him in ENGLISH... I am not made of stone.  JJaZZ - “Agora”: Totally slept on this weird indie anthem, but then they showed up looking like this:

and yes, it was even funnier in motion (sadly gif’ing rights are reserved to the Elite 4 soz) Elisa Rodrigues - “Não voltes mais”: a jolly tropical ballad in a genre I recognize but cannot name (some sort of pimba fado jazz? Does this work?) and was incomprehensibly hated by the Portuguese? Will I ever understand how this country operates? Probably never. Kady - “Diz so”: another pimba fado jazz sort of thing? My friend André (who is from Brazil) tells me it’s actively parodying Brazillian counterculture and leftist stereotypes which is such a random quirk to put in a Portuguese music comp <3

And before we move on, I’ll chuck in a very speclal DISHONORABLE mention for our good friends Blasted Mechanism.😈 I actually forgot to do my jury duties for ESCUnited here, so I’ll just let James (the person with the best taste on our team, including yours truly) do it for me: 

Fucking *TRUTH*. “Rebellion’”s problem  has always been a lack of motherfucking balls. Sure, these middle-aged steampunkers attempt to implement a genre shift between indie rock and fucking ORCHESTRAL METAL/HIP HOP and make it so underwhelming and pathetic? People blame the live, and yes it was *bad* (forever cackling at “REBELGIUM” tho), but it was the studio that failed to deliver on the promises it made.  It always surprises me when people (Sean and Roy I AM coming for you) slam "Verona” for being a “fanwank” and then fall for a Rebellion which is basically a fanwank for heterosexual snobs. #ShotsFired. 

Now, as for the actual Boris faves, LET US START WITH A LIBERAL DOSE OF ASKEW CUBISM

Judas - “Cubismo Enviesado” 

VÊS OU NÃO?  VÊS OU NÃO?  VÊS OU NÃO?  VÊS OU NÃO?  VÊS OU NÃO?   

VÊS OU NÃO?  VÊS OU NÃO?  VÊS OU NÃO?  VÊS OU NÃO?  VÊS OU NÃO?  

VÊS OU NÃO?  VÊS OU NÃO?  VÊS OU NÃO?  VÊS OU NÃO?  VÊS OU NÃO?   

VÊS OU NÃO?  VÊS OU NÃO?  VÊS OU NÃO?  VÊS OU NÃO?  VÊS OU NÃO?  

 WHAT A FUCKING SPANDEX CATASTROPHE. “Cubismo enviesado” is a horrible song, the choreography looks like it had been conjured up during a particularly drunk night of bedroom karaoke and Judas can’t hold a tune for the life of him. The lyrics don’t even make sense in Portuguese <33333 It is an art school project gone disastrously wrong. NEEDLESS TO SAY, I AM OBSESSED.😍

Filipe Sambado - “Gerbera Amarelo do Sul”

That look

The regal panache

Those... leather shorts?

IT IS SO QUEER I LOVES IT. As with Cubismo, I am fucking OBSESSED. However, unlike Cubismo, “Gerbera amarela do sul” is *legitimately* great, lol. In addition to having a KICK-ASS fado rhythm and the off-the-charts visual components (the jewellery! the hats! the throne! the hand choreography!), the lyrics are highly intelligent poetry geared at dismantling upper class snobism.😍 Rare to find an entry that kicks ass on SO MANY levels. Even harder to see it lose to Elisa Myriam - but I’m not sad it lost because, you know, it would have befallen the same fate as a “Telemóveis”. At least his existence makes the memory-holing of Achille Lauro’s ICONIC Virgin Queen Cosplay so much easier to stomach. 

Throes & The Shine - “Movimiento”

I mean, entries that open like THIS: 

are instantly iconic, ngl. The best FdC entries offer a great triple of great looks, unplugged stubborn artistry and fun quirky rhythmes. Throes + The Shine pass this with flying colours and I mean, THOSE sunglasses alone yank up the laugh-out-laugh factor to astronomical levels. add in a hilarious choreography, sound effects that seemingly imitate duck mating noises and three very attractive men (in 2020! the concept!) and it’s an instant fave right there. 

AND THEN MADE THEIR ENTRY EVEN BETTER BY ADDING MIDNIGHT GOLD/JOWST EFFECTS TO THEIR STAGING. 😍😍😍😍

MANCHAS DE LAMA NA SUA PELE  

HEROES. 😍😍😍

and of course, this wouldn’t be a 2020 NF without an obvious runaway fave losing at the last minute: 

Bárbara Tinoco - “Passe-partout”

SHE IS TINY <3333:

She’s like a human bonsai... or a personal attack chincilla.

Okay, so Portugal were *THIS close* to out-France’ing the French with this sassy Zazballad, served with a generous dollop of parisian accordion and stank reaction shots.

Yet another entry that shamelessly uses an attractive man as a boytoy prop <333 For a brief moment, Bàrbara and Tiago establish themselves as a pair of lovestruck La La Land idiots, gearing themselves towards the EPIC moment where she will dump him... and then this happens before the first chorus:

Barbara opens up a can of dancer carbs and it completely fucks up her no-bullshit keto diet. 

Those dancers man. They aren’t a *bad* addition in itself, but if your thing is “romance ballad but *plot twist* it’s actually an end of romance ballad get lost loser” do not burn the clou within the first minute of the performance to a group of dancers who don’t even dance *along with the beat of your song*. UGH.

(and also, more devastatingly, the reduce tiaGOD’s airtime how dare they grrr)

Fortunately though, I have learned to appreciate the wrecktitude of it all because it caused one of the funniest downfall narratives in recent ESC history. The Portuguese were, of course, foaming at the mouth with all the decisions Bárbara had made (not even for the points I raised, necessarily?) and Bárbara was having none of it. It went kinda like this

Juries: EWWW DANCERS AND CHOREOGRAPHY YOU ARE RAPING YOUR OWN SONG YOU PHILISTINE WHORE. Bárbara: 

Juries: WOW WHAT *ARROGANCE*!! YOU THINK YOU CAN WIN BUT BOY DO WE HAVE NEWS FOR YOU :-) 

and lo hand behold, the finale rolls on and Tinoco’s dancers are still there, and are even *MORE* present than they were in the semi (but also in sync with the beat) and Bárbara gets promptly jurydunked into third place. 😍 Even though she has the *ONLY* song in FdC that could have qualified in its semifinal. 😍  A woman who stands three apples tall trolling an entire nation and juries because she knew she had gold in her hands and then getting rigged out of the easiest nf victory out of pure SPITE 😍  WHAT AN ARC. 😍

Portugal 2020 vs Portugal 2021

Elisa probably would not have qualified. I’m not sure how popular of an opinion this is, but I prefer the semifinal performance of “Medo de sentir” and that wasn’t the staging they were going for. Not many people seemed to care either way, and that’s usually the death sentence for Portugal. 

Elisa won’t be back for 2021 or whenever Eurovision is rebooted. :sigh: Fuck you, Coronavirus. 

Freaky! Friday! Factor!

See: NF Corner:

Score: 4 Senhits out of 5. 

[thecursedhellblazer]

At the Edge of Nowhere

(( So, guess who went ahead and scratched that crazy itch I got yesterday? Yep, Scotty did. It turned in a small fic instead of a drabble, since apparently I had more to play out than I initially thought, but...here it is. I took the chance to experiment a bit with the writing style too, while I was at it, ‘cause...why not? ))

(( I’m not really sure of where the idea came from, I just really wanted them to have interact, somehow, without inventing something too complicated. And this was the result. Also, it doesn’t mean that I won’t try to shove Five into John’s universe or vice versa at some point, but for now I’m good with this xD ))

(( Sharing just in case anyone is in the mood for some random oddity! ))

(( I even posted in on Ao3 if anyone wants to have a look at it there! ^^” ))

They sit side by side, watching the eternal sunset of Eternity stretching before them, swinging their feet past the edge of the Abyss, unfazed by the danger of its depths. The darkness seems to be threatening to suck them down, condemning them to an endless fall, and yet they pay it no mind, each of them far too interested in sipping and enjoying his drink.

The silence floods past them, over them, through them, carrying the whispers of their lives. However, for this ephemeral moment, they are given the almost unique chance to ignore them. It’s a rare gift, one that deserved to be savoured, like a fine well-aged vintage. Like the ambrosia that the ancient gods, legit and false, so much have lauded.

And so they sit, the Boy and the Fool, side by side, on the edge of the Abyss.

The atmosphere is almost companionable, as much as it can be when shared by two strangers who carry with them too much baggage. A past and a present that are too dark, too painful. There’s as much kinship and understanding between them as there’s mistrust.

They let the quietness linger for a while, listening only to the taste of the alcohol that coats their tongues, knowing that the stasis won’t last. Neither of them is good at keeping his mouth shut when something is making their skin itch.

“Th’ ‘ell ‘s a lad like yeh doin’ in such a place?” The Fool finally asks, turning his eyes away from the magnetic horizon and landing them on his unlikely companion.

The Boy scoffs. Why is it always the same old story with everyone he meets? “I’d watch my fucking tongue if I were you, young man,” he shoots back, with a withering look. “I’m far older than I look. And I’m older than you for sure.”

A half laugh rises with a small cloud of smoke, but it dies in the matter of seconds as the seriousness of those declarations settles in.

“Blimey. Yeh ain’t pullin’ me leg, are yeh? ‘Ow old are yeh s’posed to be den, mate?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding? Trust me, mate, I’m not. I’m fifty-eight. And I’m stuck in the body of a thirteen-years-old. There’s nothing funny about it.”

“Bloody ‘Ell. Fifty-eight n’ still a lad? Tha’s...insane. I dun envy yeh. Nay.”

The Fool shakes his head, but, despite the lingering astonishment, there is a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Tell us, tho. Woh’s yeh secret? I gots me diabolical trick to slow down agin’ n’ all, but it obviously ain’t workin’ as well as yehs.”

“I got stuck in the future for forty-five years and, when I finally figured out the equation to go back to my time, I missed a typo and...this is the result.”

“Soddin’ math. ‘S one o’ th’ bloody reasons why I ne’er managed to get alchemy rite. T’in’s keep blowin’ up in me face.”

“Sodding math indeed. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

They clink their glasses together and go back staring at the frozen skyline. Two sets of blue eyes. Different shades of the iris, similar heaviness burdening them.

The Boy steers his drink with his straw, lips pursing pensively. “Speaking of things that suck, what is this place exactly? Am I dreaming? Or did I accidentally take some of my brother’s drugs and this is like the most boring trip in history?”

The Fool scoffs. “Gonna pretend tha’ yeh didn’t jus’ insult me too, together wit’ dis soddin’ place.”

His gaze wanders for a split moment, touching their motionless surroundings. “Ah, I dunno, mate. Could be yeh dream, aye. Could be mine. Or maybe we bot’ stepped inside another real wit’out noticin’ n’ ‘ere we are. Wouldn’t be th’ first time for me. Won’t be th’ last either.”

“I’ve never been in another world. I’ve travelled through time, maybe a bit too much, and I’ve rushed through the fabric of space but this…” The Boy waves his free hand. “This is new. It’s easier to think of it as a dream, so I’d go with that, if you don’t mind. The last thing I need is another headache.”

“Wohe’er works wit’ yeh, mate. I get it. At times, ‘s be’er pretendin’ life ain’t real. ‘S good for yeh mental sanity. Even if yeh got none left.”

The Fool takes yet another drag from his cigarette. Curiously enough, it doesn’t seem to be shortening, even if the ash falls down on his trench coat.

“One t’in’ I can tell yeh ‘bout dis place, tho. It ain’t somewhere e’eryone can visit. Yeh gotta carry some serious shite wit’ yeh to ‘ave stumbled in ‘ere. Do yeh?”

The Boy shrugs. “Maybe? I kept pushing and pushing, even after my father had told me not to and I ended up after the End of the world. I heard the bastard’s voice echoing in my head for the past forty-five years.” He makes his voice thicker for a moment. “I told you so, boy. I told you so. Asshole.”

A long sip from his drink, as if he is trying to wash away that intrusive voice from his ears, before he continues.

“I worked for this organisation that monitors the timeline for a while as a trained assassin. They made me into the perfect killer, a tool for their plans. I had my goals, though, since the start. I took their deal just so that I could go back to try to stop the Apocalypse and save my family. We ended up breakin the world anyway, so I dragged them all back in time to try again. Of course, all that shit followed us. Because it’s never that easy, is it?”

The Fool nods and the Boy can tell that his companion knows that sort of feeling far too well. It’s nice to be fully understood, for once. Even if the understanding comes from a nameless stranger he’ll probably never see again. Assuming that their meeting is truly happening in the first place.

“So...We saved the world this time but broke the timeline. And now my childhood home is gone and me and my siblings are stuck in a timeline that holds no place for us anymore. I’m still trying to figure out how that’s supposed to work. Oh, and that bastard of my adoptive father is hunting us down using the kids he adopted in our place. It’s a real mess.”

There’s bitterness colouring his voice, the embers of a fight that’s too stubborn to die just yet, but the exhaustion is stronger.

“Though, between you and me...All I really want is a decent nap and a dozen more drinks. Maybe get a dog too. Not necessarily in that order.”

The straw produces a light slurping sound as he takes the next sip. “What’s your story? You must have one too, since you’re here...wherever here is.”

The Fool tips his head, in a sign of acknowledgement. No comments follow the tale, and there’s no real need for them there, out of time and space.

“Grew up in me own particular version o’ ‘Ell. Me oul man was th’ fuckin’ opposite o’ ‘father o’ th’ year’...So, I ran in my teen years, still thinkin’ I coulda owned th’ world. Stuck me nose in e’ery bloody t’in’ tha’ was magic n’ occult. One nite I got too cocky and damned an innocent girl to Hell. Earned a bloody place wit’ me name down there too in the process.”

The voice that spells out the words is casual, but there’s something haunted in his expression, darkening his eyes.

“Spent all me life tryin' to make up for tha’ bloody mistake. Ended up messin up meself and most o’ me mates n’ th’ people who ‘ad th’ ‘orrible o’ puttin’ their faith in me as a result. Girl’s still in ‘Ell, th’ bloody Devil ‘imself gots an eternal grudge against me, I gots demon blood in me veins n’ me soz arse ‘s still damned. I might not be a professional like yeh, but I bet I gots jus’ as much blood on me ‘ands. N’ even more souls on me conscience.”

The ice clinks against the transparent walls as the glass is lifted. More sourness to wipe away the one that the words have left on his tongue.

“Nowadays, ‘s mostly me, meself n’ I. Me best mate, too, from time to time. No clue o’ ‘ow he survived bein’ by me side for so long. ‘M still tryin’ to make t’in’s rite, but...for th’ most I jus’ try to be there to do th’ bloody dirty job no self-appointed ‘ero gots th’ time to do. I might be lost, past th’ point o’ no return, but there are lots o’ people out there who aren’t yet. Th’ fuckin’ least I can do ‘s tryin’ to ‘elp ‘em, aye? Make dis soz existence o’ mine wort’ more than misery n’ destruction.”

A drag from his cigarette and there’s a small hand landing on his shoulder, in a brief pat, before he has finished sucking the smoke in. The light pressure says more than a thousand words could.

“Between you and me, tho...I could use a dozen drinks too. Maybe more. N’ a bloody vacation. To sod off somewhere, even for jus’ a day. Maybe take me best mate n’ dis other lad I know. Oh, he could use a break too, th’ poor sod.”

The Boy makes a sound of agreement and he is back stirring his drink. “What a pair we make, you and I. And I don’t even know you.”

“I ‘ear tha’ loud n’ clear, mate. Bloody loud n’ bloody clear. Woh’s tha’ yeh drinkin’ anyway?”

“What? You ne’er seen a margarita? Where the hell are you from? England or Mars? Come on, try it.”

“Oi, I know woh a fuckin’ margarita is, oul man. Yehs jus’ a bit...flashier than woh ‘m used to.”

“Special recipe. I perfected it myself.”

“Now, tha’s more like it. I like a bloke who can make ‘is own drinks. There. Yeh like g n’ t?”

The glasses pass from one hand to another and then they both turn to look back at the unchanged horizon, holding each other’s drink.

A moment to sniff the liquors, in unison, and then the Boy dips his lips in the clear spirit while the Fool wraps his mouth around the straw. The tastes mix in the silence and it’s a symphony of citrus and sourness, with just the right amount of sweetness coming at the end.

“So, what happens now?” The Boy asks, after a moment.

The Fool shrugs. “Ah, I guess we wait till all dis fades. Or till we do. ‘S always ‘ard to tell when it comes to dis sort o’ shite.”

A huffs, with the faintest hint of irritation. “For someone who’s supposed to know a lot about this stuff, you give the worst cryptic answers. I can’t tell if you’re that ignorant or if you’re just fucking with me.”

A nudge in a smaller, slender side and a sharp smirk. “Who knows, mate. Yeh guess ‘s as good as mine. Keep th’ drink. I gots more back where I come from. Consider it a safe trip back home present. I’ll keep yehs as a reminder.”

“A present from a guy I never truly met? And a reminder of something we didn’t even speak about?”

“Nay. Jus’ th’ memory o’ some peace n’ quiet in decent company.”

“Fair enough. I can drink to that.”

[valkyriesryde]

Calm

Pairing: Bucky x Reader - Greek Myth au

Summary: She’s there, whenever he needs her she’s there in his ear telling him what he needs to know. Greek Myth au.

Warning: greek myth influenced greatly here so if youre not into that, soz, apart from that, no warnings

A/N: So this came to me randomly while I was biking tonight and I just had to write it down. Let me know what you guys think!

Masterlist

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The first time he heard her was on the train. Bullets were flying past him and he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to protect himself, all he knew was that he had to get out of here. He wasn’t sure what it was when he heard it, but he was too busy to second guess the location the voice was coming from.

“The shield” was all it had whispered in his ear. He looked to his side and saw Captain America’s shield on the ground, quickly picking it up and covering his body with it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The second time he heard her he was on his bike. It was quieter, he almost missed it, in fact he wasn’t sure he’d actually heard it until many years later.

“This isn’t you” it spoke. But it was quickly pushed back by the much deeper voice coming from the com in his ear which repeated his instructions to kill. So he sped up on his bike towards the car, leading it towards the wall and completed his mission.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The third time he couldn’t believe it when he heard the voice. It had been so long, he was sure that it had been a trick of the wind before and he’d made up the words he thought he heard. But this time was different, he felt something when she spoke. He’d decided that going back under was what was best, well, it hadn’t exactly been his decision, but he knew they were right. He had to make Steve think this was his decision though, but that didn’t stop his nerves.

“You can beat this,” she whispered in his ear as the glass closed over him. He thought he felt a hand on his shoulder, but he knew no one was there, it was his imagination he told himself. Yet he still went under feeling reassured, calm even, like all he needed was her telling him it was going to be alright and then suddenly he knew it would be. “It’ll take time,” she whispered as he closed his eyes, and those words played over in his mind continuously until he awoke, and she was right, like she had been before.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sometimes he saw her in his dreams, more often she was in his nightmares. She was never a central character though, always off to the side, in the corner of his eye and whenever he turned to try and find her she disappeared again. She never said anything, he wasn’t even sure if it was her, it was what he thought she would look like. She had a softness about her he thought, always so calm even in the worst of his nightmares. She was always there though, by his side, a part of him knew she always would be.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He didn’t hear her again until Thanos, but not until after they’d lost. He saw her that time, he knew it was her. She stood in the trees behind Steve, to the left of him. She looked ready for battle, but she was too late, the battle was over. As he felt his body fall, as he felt himself disappear, he heard her voice, a whisper in his ear even though she stood so far away.

“Don’t worry,” she said, he thought he saw a small smile on her face, “you’re not finished yet.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He tried looking for her when he came back, he ran towards the trees where she had been but all that he found was an owl flying away from him. He didn’t have enough time though, she was right, he wasn’t finished yet. He saw her on that battle field, he swore she was fighting alongside them, she seemed almost happy, as if she wasn’t worried about the outcome. For some reason it made sense to him though, he knew they were going to win. It wasn’t because she was fighting on their side though, and he knew that they weren’t going to win because she was fighting on their side, she was fighting on their side because they would win. She always picked the winning side, somehow, he knew that. He didn’t have enough time to watch her though, he only caught a glimpse as she moved through the alien enemies.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It wasn’t long until he heard her again, he didn’t see her this time, as much as he wanted to. He felt her hand in his own though, as he watched Steve pick up Mjolnir. He knew what was coming, no one else did but he knew this was the last time he’d see his friend like this. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it, he wasn’t sure about anything until he heard her voice in her ear and felt her hand in his.

“You’ll be okay,” she whispered. She was always so sure of everything she said. He felt the calmness over him again as she spoke and watched Sam walk towards the bench. I’ll be okay he thought to himself, but he didn’t want to be okay yet. He wanted to wallow in it just for a little longer, he wanted to hold her, he wanted her to hold him so he could feel her around him all the time while he came to terms with the changes in his life. She wasn’t in the corner of his eye in his dreams anymore. He still felt her sometimes though, but he didn’t hear her for a long time.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was almost a year since the last time he heard her. He was beginning to accept that maybe she was gone from his life. That maybe she was just a way for him to cope with his PTSD and now that he was beginning to recover, she wasn’t needed anymore. It was his turn for the coffee run today and he rejoiced in the opportunity it gave him to be on his own. He needed a break, he was sick of the case files, the statistics and the endless information they had been dealing with for the past year. So he decided to walk to the café, he decided to go around two extra blocks just so he could have more time in the fresh air.

He didn’t think much of the small antique shop when he walked up to it, but something was drawing him towards it. He’d never been a fan of antiques, it had always been Steve’s thing. Where Bucky relished in the technology of today Steve preferred to be surrounded by things almost as old as him. He didn’t quite understand it, he didn’t want to be surrounded by objects that reminded him of time before the war, of the people he’ll never see again, of the life he’ll never have.

There was something about the store that was so inviting to him though. Maybe it was the owl carved into the wooden sign hanging on the door, or the snakes that poked out on either side of it, he thought it odd, having the two animals together, but for some reason it seemed like they complimented each other. He read the words under the owl before stepping in, ‘The Olive Tree’ it read in delicately carved letters.

He stepped fully into the store and took it in. It didn’t smell like any other antique store he’d been in. There was no dust settling in his lungs, it didn’t smell like the wood had been sitting dormant for a millennium. There was a faint smell of dirt, but it was the kind of dirt smell that fills your lungs on a summer’s day when you’re walking through freshly bloomed flowers. The air was fresh and there was no clutter, everything was organized so that you were able to move freely around the store.

His eyes moved slowly around the tables and across the shelves. He took in the warm tones of colour that filled the room. That same feeling of calmness flowed over him again like it had each time he’d heard her. He knew the familiar feeling but he didn’t bother to question it, he didn’t need to. As he continued to scan the store his eyes landed on the familiar figure. She was so different from the other times he’d seen her though.

Every other time he’d seen her she had been ready for battle, she had been dressed in a metallic armour, but she’d always looked so comfortable in it. He’d always felt somewhat stiff and rigged in his tactical gear but on her it looked like her armour was a second skin to her, he envied that. Now though, now she was dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, civilian clothes, and she looked even more at home than she had in that armour. Her shoulders were slouched down as she read the folder in her hands. She looked so vulnerable, her guard was down.

“Good morning,” she said looking towards him with a small smile before turning back to her task at hand. It was then that he’d realized he was staring and quickly turned away. It must not be her, he thought. It looked so much like her, it sounded exactly like her, but it didn’t seem as if she knew who he was. He thought that he should leave, that knowing this girl was here that looked exactly like what he had decided was his guardian angel was going to cause him to explode. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was sad or disappointed that it wasn’t actually her, or if he just felt crazy for thinking that she could be real. He couldn’t leave without buying something he thought. So he picked up the small book from the table in front of him, noticing it was a pocket journal, he thought that would be perfect.

He walked towards the counter where she was already stood and placed the small journal in her hands.

“Will that be all sir?” she asked smiling at him. He struggled to find any words while her eyes were on him and simply nodded his head and reached into his pocket for his wallet. “Don’t worry about it, this ones on me.”

“I can’t,” he mumbled shaking his head, but she pushed the journal into his hands.

“Can I give you some wisdom?” she asked, she didn’t wait for him to answer, “that journal will be much kinder to you if you write in it as soon as the thought comes to you. It won’t let the thought consume you.” He smiled shyly at him. It must be her.

“That’s very wise,” he breathed out a laugh, looking down at the journal in his hands, it had the same owl and snakes as the wooden sign on the door.

“I’m known for that,” she winked at him as her smile widened. He took small steps backwards, not wanting to look away from her until he had no choice and when that time came, as he turned towards the door she spoke up again. “Sergeant Barnes,” she called. He quickly turned towards her, his eyes wide wanting to know how he knew his name, why hadn’t she said anything earlier? She hesitated to say anything further, it was on the tip of her tongue and he could see it on her face that she wanted to say something.

“Yes?” he breathed out, taking a step towards her in hopes it would persuade her to say whatever it was the plagued her mind.

“It’ll calm down,” her voice was quiet, barely over a whisper. She had that same sureness in her tone though, the same strength in her posture she had whenever he saw her before. It had to be her.

“How do you always know?” he took another step towards her, he had to know how she always knew, he had to know why she was always with him before he even knew he needed her.

“It’s my job to know,” she continued to smile up at him as he continued to walk back towards the counter, leaning on it once he reached it.

“Are you my guardian angel?” He thought he saw a sparkle in her eyes when he asked that. She looked at her fidgeting hands and reached to grab his own across the counter. They leaned on their elbows, hands in each other’s.

“Not quite,” she breathed out a laugh, “you shouldn’t have known it was me, but I suppose that was my fault.”

“How could I not recognize you?” He looked at her confused, confused as to how he could ever not recognize her, not recognize her smile, the strength she held herself with or the mere sound of her voice.

“You weren’t supposed to. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have allowed myself to favour you as much as I do.” She looked sad, her smile dropped from her face and her eyes were glued to their hands. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t let her go now that he had her in front of him.

“I don’t – I don’t understand,”

“My father always warned me about men like you James,” she ignored his questions, his pleas for her to explain. She pulled her hands back and walked around the counter. “You need to go,” she pushed him towards the door, she was stronger than she looked.

“I don’t want to leave, you’ve always been in my ear telling me what I need to hear,” He stopped in the open doorway, she finally looked up at him with a small frown on her face. “I always thought you were just my imagination, just the wind but you were always there in the corner of my eye, just out of my sight. Now you’re in front of me and you expect me to leave?” His voice drooled with desperation, she reached up and held his cheeks softly as he watched her mouth form a tight line as she looked up at him. “How were you always there?” she dropped her hands from his cheeks and pushed him further out the door. “I won’t leave,” he said.

“You have to,” she replied, her hand on the door, ready to shut it in his face but he could tell by the water in her eyes that this wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted him to stay as much as he wanted to. “It’s not time yet, but it will be soon. Write all of your thoughts,” she nodded towards the journal in his hand before looking up at him and began closing the door, “I’ll hear them, I’ll still be by your side.”

When Bucky blinked, he didn’t know quite where he was, it didn’t feel like he’d moved at all but when he looked around, he realized he was only half a block away from the café. He knew that was her doing. He couldn’t quite remember what street that antique shop was on, he tried looking it up online when he got back to the office but there was no mention of it anywhere. He did the only thing he could after that. He pulled out the pocket journal from his jacket and opened it on his desk. He wrote everything he could remember about that little antique shop, he described the smells, the way it made him feel. He wrote about her, everything he could think of about her he wrote in that journal. He believed her when she said she would hear what he wrote, he wanted her to know what he saw when he saw her, what he felt when she talked to him.

He continued to write in that pocket journal until it refused to close from the folded and scribbled on pages. He wrote everything for her, to her, he told her about his day, about what he dreamed, anything that came to him he wrote for her.

She was right, it wasn’t long before he felt her calmness again. When the last pages of the journal were filled to their brim and he had tucked it under his pillow. He stood on the balcony of his apartment when he felt her beside him.

“I missed you,” he smiled, turning towards where she stood at the end of the balcony, “but it never felt like you were gone.”

“You’re lucky only one of the gods looks over you Bucky,” she smirked slightly as he turned his body towards him, “you’d have them fighting over you,” she laughed. He didn’t know what she meant by that, he was realizing that he didn’t know what she meant by a lot of the things she said. She spoke like there was a whole other secret that only she knew about, maybe there was. He didn’t care though, he wasn’t bothered if she ever told him or not, he only cared that she was finally here. She wasn’t a voice inside his head but stood right in front of him. This was where he needed her. This is where she wanted to be.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Thank you for reading! Feedback is welcomed and requests are open!!