#rushed the shading a bit because it was like 1am--

[sweeteastart]

Ravioli ship week day 2 tender care/sick here I am !

Thanks to my lucky star, I somehow managed to finish those pages last night !! I had this vision in my head and couldn't help myself-- so have a three page comic of the sillies for today !!

Closeup of my two favourite panels of the boys-- Ravio going through it.. rip his beautiful eyeliner

[floufli]

Your blood on my hands, it warm.

Chapter 1 : Linked (5.3k)

Masterlist

Tagglist: @sniickerdoodles @babygirl-panda19

Summary:

After absorbing the power of the Aether Core and coming back to Sylus's base, you are left with more questions than when you first arrived in the N109. Sylus on the other hand, seems blissfully oblivious to your internal struggle and doesn't give you the answer you crave. But you know, after the vision you had, that the two of you are more than strangers.

He knows things you don't, but if playing along to this little game means finding the answers to your grandmother and Caleb's death, along with the Aether Core secrets, then so be it.

Being forced together for the time being would not bother you if it helped you know him better, and discover who he really was too.

Warnings : a bit of sexual tension, tiny bit of blood mention, but things will get bloody and nasty later MDI

Author note: Finally baby number 1 is here, proofread at 1am so don't hesitate to point out mistakes or weird things. If you wanna be included in the tagglist just tell me I'll add you!

Surrounded by the soft classical melody of the vinyl playing in the background, you sat on the same crimson sofa you had been on for the past hour.

Sitting in front of you was the leader of Onychinus, the man who had kidnapped you, forced you-or tried at least, to resonate with him, and pulled you left and right in a matter of hours into unnecessary danger.

"Do you plan on staring any harder, sweetie?"

His voice was like honey, coating your nerves in a thick layer of soft fluff, calming you fidgeting despite your persisting dislike of the man. You didn't avert your eyes from his relaxed form. Choosing to observe with fake involvement as he lazily polished the gun in his lap.

Your gaze narrowed, a frown quickly taking over your face. If playing violin with your nerves was a form of art, you were sure people all around the world would fight for the chance to witness the scene actually going on. He was so nonchalantly annoying. Nothing seemed to faze him no matter what you had tried before. No smart remarks, no embarrassing gesture or act would even make him blink slightly differently.

Since you had come back to your temporary residence, you had bombarded him with questions. But he systematically refused to answer. “You’re not ready for that Kitten.” “If I told you, your already poor opinion of me that I just managed to up a little bit would sink underground, and I don’t plan on spending whatever time there’s remaining for this to come off with someone treating me like a lunatic.” And when you had kept on insisting despite all his words, he had pulled out the very gun he had made you use on him with the help of his Evol from far across the room, shutting you up immediately.

“Whatever you say, sweetie, I won’t budge. You saw it before on the rooftop, you will see more if we keep resonating.” His eyes, the deepest shade of red you had ever seen, shone in the slightest as they came to rest on you. His face was bare of emotion, but his gaze was intense, leaving no room for lies.

“You will have your answers, but you will have them at your pace and when you are ready for them.”

He ignored you after that. And that’s how the last hour passed by.

Arms tightly crossed on your chest; you felt the lack of the previous adrenaline rush catching up to you. It had been days now since you slept correctly. First because of the excitement of finally going to the N109 zone and possibly finding the answer you craved on your Aether core. Then, because of the stress of finding that damned brooch of his and the apprehension of actually going to the auction.

Your eyes were starting to grow heavier despite the morning being only an hour away. With each blink, you felt your grasp on your consciousness slowly slip away, almost allowing you to fall into a peaceful slumber right here and there.

"Is my kitten so tired that she would fall asleep in front of a starving tiger?"

Well, there goes your sleep. You immediately shot up at the sound of his deep and rich voice, a cold shower on the warmth of your dream that was just seconds away.

Your jolting didn't escape him by the smug look on his face, the smirk you had grown familiar with coming to rest on his lips.

"Oh, did I wake you up?"

The twitch of your eyelid must have been more noticeable than you thought, seeing as his smirk doubled in size and the soft chuckle that escaped him. His crimson, oh-so-vivid eyes met yours for a moment, allowing you to have a glimpse of the teasing warmth hidden behind the layers of red. But just as your eyes met, he broke the contact, going back to admire his handiwork.

"Seems like the tiger lacks intelligence then, raising the guards of its prey when he could have had an easy meal staying silent."

Your voice sounded more venomous than you had intended, but for what it was worth, he did deserve some harsh words for what he had done to you in your short stay.

"Oh..." He examined the now shiny and immaculate gun, giving you that same smug glance before continuing where he left off.

"So you agree you are my prey then?"

Huh?

Your face went through a myriad of states in a matter of seconds- confusion, disgust, anger before finally settling on slight annoyance. You didn't- wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing you, for once thankful that his gaze wasn't piercing you, too focused on the weapon in his hands.

"Cat got your tongue?" That tone, the mocking all-knowing way he articulates his every word, pushing your buttons without even trying to. You hated this man, you really did.

Choosing to ignore his pompous behavior, you lifted your hand abruptly, forcing his own to follow your movement. You didn't miss the twitch of his eyelid as the hand holding the cloth let go of the fabric because of the sudden pull. The unknown link between both your hands may have stretched a little between its first appearance and the moment you came back to Sylus' home, but still, you couldn't get more than 2 feet away from each other before the familiar pull stopped you.

"The cat is too busy being bone dry and exhausted to get anything, and with what we went through today, I think following its lead and getting some sleep is more than recommended."

Before I try to murder you again and this time I won't fail. You kept that last part for yourself though, you may be tired, but you were not suicidal yet. And despite him saving you multiple times, when he was the one that put you in danger, you couldn’t forget who you were dealing with.

Onychinus' apparently immortal leader, obsessed with resonating with you and weirdly enough complaining about your demands until now.

You gently turn your head to face the slowly brightening outside, even in the N109 zone, where the sun could barely shine, you could tell when the morning began to show its first rays, along with the clock sitting on one of the many shelves behind Sylus still siting form.

You still couldn’t believe you had managed to resonate with him, thinking back, you had tried to do so by yourself after the shooting at the bar and still, nothing had happened. But on that rooftop, you had been able to see past his usual mask for an instant, and unconsciously…

You had trusted him when taking his hand. Even if just for this moment you had known you could trust him with your life. And you did.

Hands coming down to retrieve the fallen cloth before coming to rest on his lap, yours mimicking his so the link would not activate again, his eyes followed your gaze, seemingly unbothered. The display could have actually fooled you if you didn't already know of his opposite sleep schedule compared to a normal human being.

You were proved right when you witnessed the exhaustion slowing creeping behind his gaze, his blinks slowing at the sight of the beginning of the day. You let him ponder for an instant, your initial energy quickly replaced by your previous fatigue. You only wanted to get a good night of sleep, on a warm bed, oh so far from this man-but ah yes, the link.

Wait, how were you supposed to sleep with that thing?

Your mind raced at the best of its limited capacities at this instant, already dreading the fact that he was probably going to make you sleep on the floor of his gigantic bedroom. The thought alone almost made you regret ever speaking out about going to sleep.

You didn't get the chance to cry on your fate for long before you felt a slight pull on your arm, facing the opposing couch, Sylus was already standing up, waiting for you to do the same. Gently pushing yourself up using your free hand, you approach him calmly. You were too tired to muster any smart remarks right now and you knew he wasn't as energetic as a few minutes before, the events of the day slowly catching up to him too.

The moment you were close enough for the link to start fading away Sylus began walking at a leisurely pace, letting you follow him without needing to sprint to catch up. You thanked him mentally, even if it was certainly because he didn't want to use any more energy before going to rest.

You went quietly through the corridors of the giant manor he, along with the twins, called his home, too tired to really think about where you were heading. Following him blindly.

You should really learn to be more cautious around strangers when tired.

You trailed, half asleep behind Sylus’ dark form. As you take turns you begin noticing some familiarity in the walls, before your brain finally lights up. He is bringing me to his chamber? Your curious gaze focused on his wide back, trying to decipher what he was thinking. Maybe he was really just exhausted and would indeed make you sleep on the floor. You could not remember if he had some kind of cushioning by his bed, it being a bed mat or carpet.

He is way too rich for carpet though, it's probably hardwood or maybe tiles. I should've paid more attention when looking for that damn brooch!

Your half-formed thoughts were once again stopped when Sylus back came dangerously close to your face, causing a small gasp to leave your lips as you quickly corrected yourself to the side to avoid running into him. You almost stumbled down, thanks to your tired muscles and the soreness starting to settle in your bones.

"What are you...oh." Before you could come up with the rest of the sentence you realized you had in fact arrived at the doors of his bedroom, the sense of familiarity now making sense as your eyes came to view the heavy double door leading to his quarters.

"Sleeping while walking Kitten? Is this one of the other hidden talents you have yet to show me?" Sylus right hand was resting on the right door, his palm sitting next to the handle without really making any move to open it. Walking up so you would stand closer to his left, you gave him a glare. The mocking smile he harbored didn't falter though, only growing until his eyes creased in the slightest, making the deep of his eyes dimmer in the barely lit space.

"Are you planning to stay here and mock me in my state of so grand weakness and exhaustion or are you going to open this door so we could get some sleep?" The sound of your voice only helps in the slightest keep you awake, as you were slowly but surely falling asleep while standing.

A scoff.

A scoff? A fucking scoff? You were going to kill him, for real this time.

He opened the entrance to his suite just as your hands became fists, avoiding swiftly the avalanche that was about to unfold on him as he stepped in. You followed a bit behind, enough for the link to reappear more clearly but not so the pull would be noticeable. If he noticed it, which you were convinced he did, he didn't feel the need to speak up about it.

Entering the even dimmer room, the smell of Sylus cologne intensified, and you felt out of place. You had been here before, but it was different, you had a mission: find the brooch no matter where it was even if it meant snicking into his room in the dark of the night while he was taking a shower. Now, however, it was no matter how you saw it, something more intimate, him actually inviting you into his space instead of throwing you out. It was out of convenience but still.

You felt awkward now, unsure of what to do with yourself, thankfully Sylus had kept walking so for now following him again would buy you the time to figure out what would happen next.

Coming up to the night table by his king-sized bed with you following closely behind, he put away his gun in the upper drawer before turning around and passing by you returning near the entrance.

Your confused look deepened when you followed him once more. Wasn't he tired of running left, and right? And even if he wasn't, it's getting late for him, what is he doing?

"I thought we were going to sleep Sylus; don't tell me you have some other business to attend because that’s out of the equation for me."

"Oh, don't worry about that sweetie, I won't tire you any more, but I'm not going to bed like that - and neither are you."

"Like what? You mean you can't sleep without your pajamas or-?" With a sway of his hand, a tendril of red smoke appeared, pushing against your mouth - not harshly enough to suffocate you or completely stop you from talking, but combined with the sudden act, it was enough for you to become silent.

Your eyebrows raised as you saw him quickly go through some type of dressing, only sparing you a few glances from time to time. Not even a minute later, the red tendril disappeared back into nothingness as he held out a bunch of items to you.

"What? Whatever things you are into I'm not putting anything on. I’ll just take the couch and put it closer to the bed."

His brows furrowed in irritation, his hands pushing the items into your chest, forcing you to hold on to them before they could fall onto the floor.

"Could you stop being so hardheaded for a moment, you are doing both of us a disfavor acting like that." His eyes don't meet yours as he goes back to scour through the closed for clothing you guessed.

You scoffed at his remarks, looking down to finally examine what had been shoved into your arms. Separating the items as best as you could without losing your grip, you quickly made the list, a t-shirt, along with a pair of new boxers and trousers all of them a deep shade of black and way too big for you.

Except maybe the boxers, looking at the fabric, it seemed to be made to fit closely to the skin. Your eyes poked up through your lashes, looking at Sylus as he finished retrieving his desired clothes for the night. More precisely you quickly scanned his waist, the man was huge, both in height and width, that you had quickly known the very day you two met. But his waist, as if the gods themselves had decided to bless the guy, had been made slim enough to make your eyes catch on it multiple times during your previous escapade. And you knew you weren't the only one who looked at him like this, but at least you did it while his back was turned.

Which meant that the boxers would probably be the only good fit, the t-shirt and trousers? You would float in them but considering their purpose for the night-day, you didn't complain.

Your eyes then rested on the final item, and your eyebrows rose.

"Sylus why the towel we-"

"You seriously don't think I would allow you to dirty my bed after the events of tonight, or did you think being tired would make me forget basic hygiene Sweetie?"

" Well, no but I thought tonight would be an exception. You know considering this." You tugged your hand holding the towel away from him while looking at him expectantly. And surely the orange hue of the link appeared. Sure, sleeping with the vestige of your battle on your skin would feel gross but you could manage for one day. You were a Hunter, long missions where you were forced to sleep on concrete or dirt without showering for days weren't that common but not really rare either. It was something to be prepared for, and the bath when returning home was so heavenly that you almost immediately forgot the pain it was.

You thought you would quickly pat yourself with a wet towel to preserve some intimacy, not a full-on shower.

Guess he disagreed, looking at the way his lips stretched in a judgmental scowl.

"Your view on this, and your surely exhausted mind maybe didn't make you consider that even if we skipped it tonight -tomorrow, and the day after exist." He raised one of his hands to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. You really felt like a toddler who was being taught common sense. It was infuriating.

"Well excuse my poor fucking self-sir," Oh you didn't miss the way he tensed at that. “My stupid brain thought that the link would have loosened up enough by tomorrow so you know, we could shower separately?" Your hands were going wild, swaying up and down to accentuate your mocking tone.

"Because be sure of that one thing Sylus." You paused, pointing at his with hand holding both the towel and the link, the other coming the rest on your hips while holding the rest.

"I'm not putting myself naked in a closed and small room with you, sick bastard. Over my dead body." Your gaze was serious, although embarrassment at the words had made a sweet blush appear on your cheeks.

His smile darkened the moment the words left your lips, his right eye glowing in that sickening red hue that made your mind play tricks on you.

"Stop that." Anger lingered in your tone, accentuated by the exhaustion. You could've gone to bed 10 minutes ago and still, you were there, unclean, tired, and on the brink of snapping Sylus' neck.

"I'm the sick bastard and yet you are the one suggesting perverted acts Kitten, I never said we would shower together, you did that yourself." The glow in his eye subsided and he turned his back to you, closing the distance between the glass door of the shower.

You took a few steps but stopped before the transition into the shower and observed as Sylus put his own clothes on a shelf by the door, close enough to still be in range, but far enough for the shower head to not risk being drenched.

"Sylus how-"

"Easy, just stay by the door right where you are, and I'll stay right here." He said as he positioned himself to be just under the shower head. From where he stood, the link was clearly present, even beginning to pull on your hand, but if he kept his left hand facing you then there would be no problem.

“Okay, you got me on that one.” Sigh, you just hoped he wasn't taking forever when he showered. Giving him a last warning glare yo-

"OH MY! OH, MY-" The door handle slipped in your desperate hands as you struggled to close the door.

"DON'T JUST UNDRESS WHEN SOMEONE IS STILL TALKING TO YOU DAMMIT, PERVERT!"

You heard him chuckle, his deep voice just slightly muffled by the thin layer of glass. Thin enough, you realized, that if you really tried and came close enough with the glass it was almost as if there was nothing separat-

You turned away before you could do or see the irredeemable.

The sound of water hitting the tiles of the shower tensed you as much as it soothed your mind, a very corrupted mind by the way. You kept your linked hand near the entrance, taking the towel with a little bit of struggle into your other almost full one.

Gosh, I must look so stupid right now, standing almost pressed onto the glass while he is having the time of his life in there.

At least you could tell the hot water had made the glass blurry enough for his frame to be just beyond recognizable.

I was envious when he went in there first, but it was maybe for the better. I can't imagine him being able to keep his eyes for himself.

Yet that didn't stop you from taking a few glances, not that you could actually see anything.

Shameless. Truly, where is my self-respect?

You stayed pressed onto the door for a few more minutes, and the fight against sleep was beginning to turn into your disfavor. The warmth of the glass pressing softly into your back combined with the sweet, who would have thought, the scent of his body lotion or shampoo and the trickle of the water began to lull you into a semi-conscious state. Just Awake enough to not slide down the door and fall asleep.  You tried to distract your mind by taking the room more in detail, letting your eyes roam every interesting thing you could find. Surprisingly, they found the perch of Mephisto, you had been so much focused on getting some sleep that you hadn’t noticed the dark pile of feathers silently sitting just a few feet away. The mechanical bird seemed to be in some sort of sleep mode, so you couldn’t even look at it preening itself to keep you awake.

When your blinks began to last a few seconds each, the sound of the shower stopped, pushing you back into full, more or less, consciousness.

You take a look, only to see him approaching the door, your breath itching at the proximity yet how far away he was. You could barely see but by the sound of ruffling and the blackness surrounding his frame, you easily guessed your time waiting was almost up.

The door slid open the next second, and you stepped aside to let Sylus step out of the shower. The moment the door had slid all the way, the scent of his lotions became ever more powerful, completely engulfing you. I'll have to take a picture of whatever he has that smells so good, and it better not cost thousands.

He took a few steps to allow you the space to enter the now warm shower, a towel thrown over his shoulder while the same crimson robe hugged his frame.

"You can use my shampoo and lotion, just don't use all of it I just replaced them, and I don't like wasting that kind of thing."

You only acknowledged him with a small hum, almost jumping into the warmth of the shower the moment you could. You put your clothes where he had just minutes before, before turning to begin unbuttoning your top.

Sylus silhouette by the door frame made you stop your movement, the door still very much wide open. But before words could escape your lips, Sylus' hands had already done you the favor of closing the door, letting you exhale a breath you didn't know you held.

"Now, look at who is the perverted one. Have you truly got no shame little Miss Hunter?"

" Oh, shut it, I forgot now let me shower in peace." He was silent after that, good.

A small thud accompanied the last of your garment off your body, leaving you bear on the tile floor. You didn't lose much time relaxing in the warmth of the water or the sweet notes in the air, the shadow of the man by the entrance wouldn't allow you to. You quickly turned on the water, surprised to see the temperature was in fact perfect for you. You had showered after male colleagues or some of your ex-partners, but men and their lower body temperatures often left you shivering when you tried to shower after them.

Moving quickly before the warmth of the water lured you into the sleep you had been fighting off for hours, you made quick work of the dirt embedded in your skin. The clear water was now tainted with the brownish color of dirt and sand, along with a faint rosy taint from the small cut and dried blood you had accumulated tonight. The sting of the stream helped staying awake though, so you didn't mind it much.

Sitting on shelves embedded in the wall stood a variety of hair and body products for your choosing, but you didn’t waste much time looking at the labels. One at a time, you opened the lid and smelled its content, searching for the delicious scent. It only took you a few tries, the bottle still in front of the others following its recent use.

Seems like I found my new shampoo, and even if it does cost thousands, I'll just borrow this one, I'm sure he'll live.

Taking another bottle of random soap, you cleaned yourself thoroughly, paying extra attention to not tangle your hair in your haste. After rinsing and repeating to make sure all the shampoo and dirt were out of your hair you turned off the water.

Immediately, a chill ran up your spine, and you almost jumped on the towel resting on the track. You patted yourself dry before roughly gathering your hair into the towel and throwing it over your head when you were sure it would hold on its own. Sleep was only a boxer, T-shirt, and a pair of trousers away.

Although, you couldn't stop the blush creeping on your cheeks as you held the boxers. Your hesitation only lasted a moment, and you put the thing on without looking. The rest followed swiftly, along with your watch, even if it was waterproof, you wouldn’t bet your last communication device on your current luck, and the next thing you knew you were standing by the door.

" Careful I'm opening." You let a second pass before sliding the door open, sure enough, Sylus stood exactly where you had, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. His frame leaned gracefully on the glass, his arms crossed over his chest, he looked you over before pushing himself off the wall.

"You're taking the left side I'm taking the right."

Being careful not to slide and fall because of your wet feet, like seriously doesn't he have the budget for a bathmat, you looked at him confused but still mechanically followed him after closing the door.

"Wait," He continued to walk towards the bed. " You mean to say we are going to sleep together?"

" Are you going to say something indecent again?" His ironic tone was letting you know that, yes, this was actually happening.

"Sorry your Highness, I thought a peasant like myself would be forced to sleep on the bare floor."

"Yet look at me, gracious enough to share my bedding with said peasant."

Your mouth moved in unspoken injuries, taking advantage of his back facing you, but you knew he had good ears when he wanted, so you didn't push your luck actually speaking them out loud.

As he came by the frame of the bed, he took a moment to glance at his phone put on the nightstand. I didn't see him put it there, he must have done it when he put the gun away. Seemingly satisfied with whatever he saw, he put the phone back on the stand, and without wasting a moment more, slipped under the covers. With his tall frame, he almost didn't need to reposition himself, only slightly moving away from you.

He laid there, body flushed against what you knew to be the most fluffy and soft mattress you had ever had the luck to try out, his head resting on the pillow you bet was going to make you curse your own tomorrow. His white hair became just the slightest bit wilder against the bed, cupping his face beautifully as his red eyes locked onto yours, almost drowning you in their lazy intensity.

The corner of the cover was still lifted in an unspoken invitation to join him, the gesture too intimate, too banal for your liking. It made your heart ache for something. Something that you had possessed but that was ripped from you, leaving you longing for a familiarity long forgotten.

"Come on now, peasant, you don't want your lord's kindness to run out, do you?" His voice was too soft and lacked the previous taunting and teasing you had played into. Everything seemed like a dream, or maybe he had bashed his head, and this was the result of a concussion left untreated.

"The peasant would want more space, so hop your ass away."

You joined him behind the covers, taking the corners he held into your hand. The feeling of your fingers brushing against each other didn't make you shudder in the slightest. It didn't.

"Greedy."

"Annoying, move."

"You're acting as if I was the one at fault here." He began, his right arm coming to rest on the covers. He moved his body away to give you the space you requested. "But correct me if I'm wrong, I wasn't the one who put the leash on both of us."

"If you're so mad about the thing, cut your hand and just heal it back and stop nagging me." You threw daggers at him despite the sigh escaping you when you found the perfect position to sleep in. The bed truly felt like a cloud.

"Throwing me back my own words? I expected more from you kitten." He looked truly unimpressed, only faintly giving you a glance before closing his eyes. How easily he always cut the discussion short when things didn't go his way or bored him never failed to infuriate you.

Taking the pillow lying in between the two of you, you raised it above the covers to make sure it was big enough, prodding him to look at what you were scheming.

"Are you already going to try and murder me again?"

"You wish. But not today, I'm just making sure nothing happens." You said as the fluffy and plumb pillow came to rest between your body, separating them as best as you could with the means available.

With the barrier in between you and him, you felt the nerves that kept you awake starting to dissolve, finally letting you revel in the softness of the covers and the plushness of the mattress.

“Am I really this untrustworthy in your eyes? I feel offended.” Trust. Your exhaustion had left little room for anything other than short remarks and glares since you returned from the auction, but did you trust him?

You had learned that he wasn’t Grandma and Caleb’s killer, but nonetheless, he still wasn’t a good person. He was the leader of the most dangerous organization you knew of, and there were so many things you didn’t know about him that it honestly scared you. He, on the other side, seemed to know you to your very core, and that simple thing stirred something buried away in your memories.

At least before you could technically try your luck and run away, but now, even if he would let you, it wasn’t even physically possible.

You will have to trust the fact that he hadn’t killed you yet and that it meant he didn’t want to, he must have plans for you. That’s the only answer, that, or he wants to torture you before he gets bored of this cat-and-mouse game. Maybe you pulling the trigger when he told you to bore more consequences than you thought at the time.

Turning your back to him, you bathed in the soft glimmer of the fireplace you had forgotten existed. The soft swaying of the flames and their gentle orange shade reminded you of the sunset you often witnessed back in Lincon City.

Eyes closing on their own accord, you let your body relax, the sound of the fire cracking and Sylus' already soft and regular breathing lulling you to a well-deserved sleep.

[rosainta]

“Advice Unmasked: Team Fortress 2”

{Transcript}

Miss Pauling: “Thanks for listening, Spy. I’m sorry if I got a bit melodramatic at the end there.”

Spy: “No problem, ma chère. Remember— these things take time, so just keep aiming to improve yourself.”

Miss Pauling: “Yeah, I… think I can do that.”

Spy: “Good. Now, run along and shoot Scout for me, will you?”

Miss Pauling: “Hah, alright.”

Description: Spy giving his usual high-quality French advice after listening to Miss Pauling vent about work problems.

(Made with a hint of inspiration from the AO3 fic “A Pauling’s Attire” by Lizziefij / elrong, with her wonderful headcanon of Spy and Miss Pauling being somewhat close— specifically stylistically!

Here is the link- go read it when you can. It’s super well-written, professional, and the artwork that goes along with it is just phenomenal!! <3 :

~ * ~

Started January 28th, 2024 at 1:00AM, Home Finished January 30th, 2024 at 4:45, Home

Art Notes:

This is a gift / apology art for the user @slimsnipes , after them being very kind (and tolerant of my incessant blabber mouth… so sorry about that... 😭) during a stream and helping improve my art skills and motivating me to keep creating!

Please, if you haven’t already, go check them out! They make wonderful art— especially Speeding Bullet-related content!!! >u< — and are just really cool in general, so if you want to be crying in awe for two hours straight (like me…), here’s the person to go to!

As for the artwork, I made it really late at night and really quickly— not because I was rushing but more because I made it during a spontaneous burst of inspiration at 1AM that even my sleepiness couldn't stop. -w-

Probably due to my inability to think straight from the tardy inspo-explosion, I made a mistake when drawing where Spy's ear and jawline ended up being WAYYY closer to his eyes than physically possible. I re-drew it in Markup and covered it up with shading (because I can't be bothered to erase the colouring and rip the paper LOL), and now, aside from the general area and lineart being slightly darker than the rest of his face, you can barely tell there was a change at all!

Plus, it helped improve my colouring a little bit, which was great because that was my initial goal with this drawing in the first place.

This work is not something I'm immensely proud of since there are a lot of flaws with it, like the entire wonky anatomy of Spy, that I feel I could have avoided if I had just made it during the day and... not so randomly... but I'm still going to post it here just to document the experience and take it as a lesson to learn from!

And, again, to reiterate, my standards are pretty low for what I post here-- anything that doesn't look like chicken scratch or scribbles-- because I want to post things that I truly express myself with, so I won't be leaving this one out!

Anyhow, that's about it for this one! Remember to check out slimsnipes and Lizziefij when you can, they are both super talented and they've really shaped the way I create, and I'm sure they'll inspire you too, in the best way possible!

Have a good one, pally~ ^.^

~ Rosain Quivan

Credits: ‘Team Fortress 2’ by Valve, “A Pauling’s Attire” by Lizziefij / elrong, slimsnipes Image source: Rosain Quivan Created by: Rosain Quivan {Cross posted on Amino ( Rosain Quivan )}

[ritzcrackee]

april tbr post yayy

rereads are marked by a ☆, new reads are marked by a ♡, and new acquisitions are bolded

physical tbr: 20

what moves the dead - t. kingfisher ♡

an education in malice - s. t. gibson ♡

juilet takes a breath - gabby rivera ♡

stories of people and civilization, greek ancient origins - lindsay powell, j. k. jackson ♡

rebel girls - elizabeth keenan ���

the silent stars go by - dan abbet ♡

touched by an angel - johnathan morris ♡

dracula - bram stoker ♡

dune - frank herbert ♡

dune messiah - frank herbert ♡

frankenstein - mary shelley ♡

sense and sensibility - jane austen ♡

hippie - barry miles ♡

evernight - claudia gray ☆

stargazer - claudia gray ♡

the handmaids tale - margaret atwood ☆

the testaments - margaret atwood ♡

aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the

universe - benjamin alire sáenz ☆

would-be witch - kimberly frost ☆

the ballad of songbirds and snakes - suzanne collins ☆

digital tbr: 2

pandora's jar: women in the greek myths - natalie haynes ♡

wild is the witch - rachel griffin ♡

read: 7

a million kisses in your lifetime - monica murphy - dnf

i got like 80 pages in and then just,,, could not continue. no shade if u liked this book it was just solidly, solidly not my thing.

my monster valentine - various authors - 3/5

debated putting this on here for obvious reasons but i neeeeed to be accurate i guess. i only read about half of the stories in this collection and they were pretty hit or miss. it was free though so yk. vibes.

high spirits - camille gomera-tavarez - 2.5/5

this book was pretty alright! i don't have much to say about it (hence the middling rating) but i would reccomend it if you're looking for a fast read :D

the coldest touch - isabel sterling - 4/5

THIS WAS SO CUUUUTTTTTEEEEE!!! i liked the way the author portrayed the genuine hell that being stuck at 17 would be. please get me out of here i want a fully developed frontal lobe. AW and all of the characters were super likable. truly so adorable i was squealing the whole time.

im knocking a point off for the romance being a littttllllleeeee rushed and the character descriptions feeling off (it felt odd that both pov characters categorized every single person into a specific race? i think its good practice to make a characters race clear, but idk if that applies to a random teacher with no dialogue). to be so real though i loved this book enough that it didn't bother me too much.

beastly & bookish - catrina bell - 5/5

did i finish this book in one sitting? yes. did i stay up until 1am doing that? ...mind your business. honestly, im maybeee being a little bit generous giving this 5 stars but !! i really liked it!!! rom was soo mecore. i'm excited to read the rest of the books in this collection (even though they're all christmasy), and i can't wait for my physical copy to get here!!

holly's unjolly christmas - lark green - 2/5

this book was truly just fine. like, the definition of pretty alright. the tropes weren't my thing and the romance felt wildly rushed, but the writing style was easy to read and there were some funny bits. i also felt like the demon characters fell pretty flat? idk felt mid overall. (tbh the highlights of this book were when rom and noelle showed up. my babiesssss)

holidays ablaze - lucy limon - 3/5

v cute 👍 i love samite he's so autistic 💗

last months goal: finish dune

hmm ok. so i did not finish dune. i don't know why i thought i could. whatever possessed me to believe i could finish an 800 page sci-fi book in one month was truly of the devil herself. what the fuck. that was a blatant temptation towards hubris and I FELL FOR IT. anyways i hit 300 pages. everyone clap.

this months goal: finish a re-read

i have a lot of books i'd like to re-read but!!! i just never get around to it!!!! there r always newer shinier books that grab my attention!! i'd also like to carve away a more sizable chunk of my physical tbr this month because i have officially run out of space on my bookshelf TwT. everything is so so crammed in there, i truly cannot afford any more physical books. public library here i come!!

[alldayangst]

gold rush (Tom Holland)

All of my fics are LGBT and PoC friendly. Inspired by gold rush by Taylor Swift. Everybody wants Tom, but you don’t like a gold rush. WC: 2.7K words. 

“Y/N, I just wanted to say again, thank you for coming in today and doing this for us.” Tom’s dad, Dominic, said as he displaced papers across desks, earl grey swaying like an angry lake in his mug. Approaching footsteps hinted that the star of the show was soon to be hold. In other words, Tom was running behind.

The door creaked and light from the corridor crept through like Sun peeping through curtains of the Night. It refusing to shut after Tom budged and pushed was maybe divine punishment for him being so late, and maybe provided the bit of laughter you needed after rolling out of bed at 6am for this, for him. When the door eventually did close, Tom turned around and saw you in all your glory; much taller than he remembered, more assured than he’d imagined, and more gorgeous than drowned out and half forgotten memories of you could ever fabricate.

You and Tom ran in the same social circles, but hadn’t seen each other since Tom’s career imploded when you were both nineteen. As much as Tom felt he owed his heart and soul to the UK, he maintained an almost permanent fixture on the States. It started to feel like his trips back to England were in fact actual holiday. At one point, you were in love with Tom, but meeting became a constant battle of ‘here, not there’ and your heart grew tired of the duck and goose chase. The gravity of the situation was too much for you, whom hadn’t even tasted their twenties yet. 

“Y/N!” Tom launched at you and held you in tight embrace. You let go of the hug, but he didn’t. And his dad watched on in momentary awe as you wrapped your arms around Tom once again, who breathed in every part of you with unwavering adoration.

“Tom!” You rubbed along his back as he hummed. “When I was told we were gonna have a ghost writer, I had no idea it was gonna be you.”

Tom and his dad (being an author) were collaborating on a book, a million dollar idea that’d been years in the making. Tom had stalled it, his dad told you out of simple insecurity. Now that the world was a stage, he was worried people would criticise his dyslexia with every line he wrote, that every stroke of his pen would reveal him as a rare type of monster that lacked intellect, he pondered that he wasn’t insightful enough in some way. His dad may have written a book about Tom outfaming him, but Tom felt like he’d always live in Dom’s shadow in this respect. Fresh from Oxford with an English Bachelor’s degree, Dom employed you to get grease on the gears to commence writing. Tom had always come out of his shell when you were around.

Your writing session lasted from 8 til noon, when Tom had promo with LadBible or Entertainment Weekly or whoever had bid the highest from his presence that day.

The door swung open and three men in all black and mics saddled around their waists called for and led Tom out of the room.

“Tom, session’s over. We need to get you to your BBC promo in 30 and we’re already running behind schedule.’ One cloaked Tom in a jacket you were sure was more expensive than your own home and another whispered something into a walkie talkie: “Holland is on the move. Check the back entrance is clear.” With that, Tom rose to his feet and left completely opposite of the way you came in. Without a word, no goodbye.

You and Dom left the building together around ten minutes later, where ten men with large cameras stood, lenses focused on you, glaring at you, not sure what to make of you. One of the men screams “Hey! You dating Tom Holland” and after that all you hear is clicks and all you see is bright flashing lights and Dom clenches your hand and leads you to your taxi cab.

The next time you see Tom is sooner than expected. The Hollands were hosting a last minute dinner party and you found yourself sitting opposite Tom, feeling his hard, hot and heavy gaze on you. The tension in the room was so thick not even a chainsaw cut through.

“Next topic,” You picked up a card from the deck and read it aloud. “Politics!” You said devilishly as you sip on what was left of the white wine in your cup, and now that your thought process is blurred; Tom’s longing gaze puts you at dismay.

“Fuck!” Harry exploded, and you hear their mother hiss. “Fuck I hate politics, there’s no making it out alive!” he remarked as he drummed on the table cloth, drunken excitement brewing a new energy in the room.

You go on like this for hours until dinner party is dinner party no more. And while Dom, Nikki and all of Tom’s siblings have chosen to exit stage left, it’s 1am and you and Tom have yet to leave the scene.

Tom sets down your deck of debate cards in favour of a genuine moment.

“What are you doing these days, Y/N?” Tom’s not looking at you, he’s looking at your knee as he rubs circles on it. You want to look down there too, see what he finds so intriguing; but you decide against it in fear you might spontaneously combust. You don’t know if this moment’s supposed to be intimate or innocent and you’re not sure if you want to find out.

So you put up a wall.

“I should be asking you the same thing, Holland.” You say sarcastically. “What have you been doing these days? I haven’t seen you around.” Your eyebrows scrunched up together but you’ve got a big, idiot grin on your face that’s more than telling. Tom giggles at your facetiousness.

Tom scratches his head in mock thought. He never clocks out, always putting on a show. “I don’t know - uh.” You’re laughing before Tom has even told the punchline, ‘cause I guess anything’s funny when it’s said by the one you love.”I’m kind of -” He snatches an old Spiderman comic off the floor. “I’m kinda doing this acting thing at the moment. Playing, y’know, this guy.”

“Well I wish you better luck in the future.” Tom has stopped rubbing circles but instead places his two hands on your knees as you rock back in laughter.

“I’m serious, Y/N. What do you do now?”

“Um.” You suddenly forgot your entire career as Tom, with no shade of subtlety, stares right into your soul. “I got my degree. I write like little stories, y’know? Have you ever heard of folklore?”

Tom shook his head.

“They’re like these little, old beautiful myths. And I write them for a living. And if I’m lucky, they get published in The Times. If I’m even luckier, I get to work with my old best friend - ” You feel your world stop temporarily as you call Tom your ‘best friend’ and you pause for all of 0.3 seconds to register Tom’s reaction but his face doesn’t flinch. “-Writing a book with him and his dad.” And that makes Tom smile. So he doesn’t have to tell you he missed you, you just know.

‘Undivided appearance’ and ‘undivided attention’ don’t necessarily mean the same thing in Hollywood as they do in real life, and you learn that the hard way in your writing session.

Tom may have been sat right next to you, but he was miles away. He was doing press with Cosmo, who hadn’t stopped tagging him with blue hearts on his Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat stories, causing his phone to go off every two seconds. You looked at the phone and then at him who then got the hint and put it on silent. Then there was a knock on the door. Tom rushed to open it, expecting that Dom had sent down a food delivery to egg you on finishing this chapter. You rehashed his childhood like a million times - in fact, you were part of it - so when it came to writing the parts that hurt, where you took a more supporting role in his life, you needed his help. The fact is, the knock at the door had come from one of Tom’s men (Tom liked to call him Man In Black no. 3) who hadn’t said as much as a ‘hi’ before he made his announcement. “Tom, you’re on the line with Cosmo in 10.” The man stepped back and pulled out his walkie talkie, “Holland knows he’s on the line with Cosmo at 10.” And then continued to pace around the hallway.

Cosmo called as he said they would and you almost felt for. second like tom might enjoy an entertainment magazine’s company more than yours. The interviewer made glaring comments and passive flirts at Tom who just blushed and chuckled and sipped his water like the woman on the phone calling him ‘hot’ was just too much to handle. At one point, she says: “What must it be like to grow up that beautiful, Tom? With your hair falling into place like dominoes.” You’re not expecting it when Tom tilts the phone so you’re in view. “Well I’m with the most beautiful being on Earth right now so..” Tom looks at you as if to ask ‘is this okay?” and you know it’s too late for these kind of questions, because that moment is headline fodder, so you smile not to make him feel bad for opening Pandora’s box. But Tom is merciless and likes to rub salt in the wound. “This is Y/N! Y/N’s helping me write the book with my Dad! We go way back.” He covers his mouth as soon as he says it. “Shit! They’re not supposed to know about the book yet.”

This is the moment, you think, where you believe when they say your first love is the one you never let go.

And you can’t think of anything purer than the love you have for him.

Tom thinks being on land is boring. He likes being strung from chords 30 feet in the air, and drowning in despair through scenes of emotional turmoil. You want to tell him you’re an arrow from Cupid’s bow about to reach him, but you couldn’t recover from the splinters if Tom shut you down. After all, Tom was a gold rush. A treasure that everyone had discovered but nobody owned. How precious is a jewel that anybody could take home with them?

Tom had invited you to a visit to Brighton with him, a city near the coast, for some inspiration on writing his section of the book. 

You accepted. And because you did, you found yourself at the beginning of the end, on Tom’s boat in Brighton. “We don’t have to talk about the book right now.” Tom throws a stack of blue tinted paper on the floor. His dyslexia meant that spelling and reading was so much easier when done on blue pages, and you could only guess that was the reason the body of water around you brought him so much peace. So when you saw that something might compromise your best boy’s happiness, you point it out. To give Tom a little bit of time to exit before things got ugly.

“Tom, I see someone in the bushes.”

“Yeah. It’s a pap.” Tom mumbled nonchalantly. 

“They’re here to get pictures of me,” He turned to face you. “and you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, the fans ship us. Think we’d be a good couple after that Cosmo stunt. We would have been a good couple when we were like, 18.” He laughs.

“Huh, yeah.” You look down.

“The best one around.” And you can’t tell if he’s serious.

You rip off one of his blue sheets. “I’m coming. I got hit with inspo.” And you trail to a different section of the boat. A very obvious click of the camera from a shrub nearby coaxes your pen to write without a second thought, How is he so accustomed to this? Fake private moments, protected by sheer glass curtains?

You scrunched your paper, well his paper, into a ball. 

Your mind had turned his life into folklore. You weren’t sure if that was crossing a line, so you just put the ball into your bag and hide it until he hits you with the spark again.

“Let me see it.” Tom says.

“No.”

“You ran off to write it and won’t let me see it?” 

You held your bag at your hip in defence. “No, Tom. Drop it.” 

Tom’s face drops a little bit, but then he reaches into his own bag and reveals a deck of your debate cards. “I know what will cheer you up, good ol’ Y/N.” He sets a card on the wooden table between you two. 

“Do you believe in a higher power?”

You toyed with the pendant around your neck which revealed your faith. “Do you?”

“I don’t. But I believe in soulmates.”

You look to the left to really ponder on what Tom is saying, and a paparazzis captures another photo of you in the corner of your eye.

“And you don’t think there’s a higher power that manufactures our souls to make our soulmates?”

Tom feigns a scowl. “That’s ridiculous.”

You scoffed. “How very contrarian of you.”

“What the fuck does that mean.”

“It means you contradict yourself, Thomas.” You laugh as he holds his chest in fake hurt.

“Are you implying I’m anything less than perfect?”

“Never.”

Never. Because you didn’t believe that to be true. 

“Good. Cause you’d have to be punished.” Tom picks you up and throws you in the water below before jumping in with you.

On your way home you stop at the yours and Tom’s writing booth, scavenging through your bag to drop off Tom’s notepad, some scrunched up blue and white papers you and Tom thought could still help you write his book. You’d made an addition to your love-hazed scribblings about Tom and reckon you’d die if he found it. You managed to throw the other in the water, excusing yourself with “It’s utterly awful.”, to which you and Tom agreed you wouldn’t throw any more paper in the ocean cause the poor fish already had it hard enough.

You and Tom had a session the next day. Tom was excited for the day, and you could tell because he’d given his phone to one of his big babysitters for the time he had you.

“I think that’s all of yours.” You and Tom made a business out of unscrunching your paper balls to see if they had any useful ideas. You were certain you reached the end of Tom’s. All of his notes had ‘T.H’ written on the back in big and were scribed on blue paper. When it came to your little ‘secret admirer’ notes you weren’t worried - you had an English degree and were quick to think on your feet and was ready to make something up when it came to opening it. 

“No, this one’s mine.” He’s confident, so you let him have it. He goes to pick up your tea and then realises it’s nowhere near warm, and was the one you made for yourself when you crept in yesterday evening. Tom has a smile on his face, and then he doesn’t. Before he goes to read it aloud, his eyes tell you he’s reading it again and again and again. “At dinner parties, I’ll call you out on your contrarian shit, and the coastal towns we wondered round will never see a love as pure as it.”

The look on Tom’s face gives you the splinters. He tries to look at you but you know he can’t. You don’t blame him. You can’t look at him either. “I really thought this was a good friendship.”

You hum and nod your head in agreement, pull your lips into a thin straight line as streaks of tears abandon your eyes. This was worse than Tom rubbing salt in your wounds. He’s rubbing dirt in your painful fucking gashes and you are reminded of why this didn’t work before, why it will never be.

And you wouldn’t dare to dream about him anymore.

Masterlist

Upcoming Works

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

To Love or To Lose

Sebastian Stan masterlist - Full masterlist

Summary: Antony convinced Sebastion to take a small vacation to Europe with him. In a mixup of sorts, they end up at the small town bar you work at. There’s a spark between you and Sebastian but they’re only there for a few days before they have to leave again. You’ll be damned if you let Sebastian go that easily.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3145

Author’s note: Hi, I wrote this very, very quickly at 1am because this was in my dream last night and I couldn’t get rid of it in my head. Yes, this is fully just a story I thought up for myself to insert myself in. I am Dutch. 

‘We’re lost.’ ‘We’re not lost.’ ‘Just admit we’re lost.’ ‘We’re not lost.’ ‘We can just use our phone-’ ‘We’re not lost!’ Sebastian sighs and looks around while Antony tries to figure out the cyclist map they bought in town. He’s sure they’ve cycled for miles but they must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere. Now they’re in the Dutch countryside, surrounded by fields and farms. ‘Oh, look at this.’ Antony pulls Sebastian’s attention back to the map. He points at a street sign and then to the street as indicated on the map. ‘There’s a town just a little bit away from here.’ ‘Good, let’s go.’ Sebastian hops on his bike faster than Mackie can fold the map and is almost down the street when Antony joins him. They are surprised by the fact that there is a huge intersection just around the corner. ‘I guess you were right,’ Sebastian admits. Mackie just laughs and presses the button for the traffic lights. They cycle down the street to a roundabout and decide to take the first exit even though it seems less busy. ‘We could have a drink,’ Sebastian points out when they pass a small, roadside café. ‘We’ll have a drink at the next one,’ Antony says, still a bit sour that they’re not where they’re supposed to be yet. And no more than half a mile later they spot the next café. ‘Fine,’ Antony sighs. They cross the street and set their bike’s in their respective places in front of the bar. ‘Must be a bunch of alcoholics in this town if they have two bars in the same street,’ Mackie jokes, knowing that half of the people won’t understand him if they aren’t paying attention.

The terrace is quite full but there’s space. They walk up to a small standing table that has a sign on it. Neither of them can read it but they suppose it means something like “Wait here for service.” They see a tall, lanky man with a beard and messy hair walk around the terrace, delivering drinks to the patrons. He makes eye contact with the two and nods at them to let them know he’s coming. ‘Ik kom zo bij jullie.’ A girl rushes past so fast that Sebastian barely gets the chance to look at her. She carries a tray full of tap beer to a table across the terrace with such ease that it looks like second nature to her. Antony nudges him. ‘What do you think she said?’ ‘Probably something about coming over here to help us?’ ‘Yeah, sure.’ Together, they watch the girl as she stands by a table with rowdy men giving her lusting looks and strange smiles. They’re quite obviously very drunk. Sebastian takes a second to take her in as she stands with her back towards them. She has her hair in a kind of half-up, half-down style and wears a copper wrap dress with white specks on it. From the side, Sebastian can see a tattoo peek out from under her dress. She wears white tennis shoes with creme-colored ruffled socks poking out of them. When she turns around with a smile on her face he can see her red lips and blushy cheeks. She walks incredibly fast for someone her height, though she is a bit taller than the average American woman she still looks quite short compared to other people around. ‘Wat kan ik voor jullie betekenen?’ She speaks in Dutch and then she does a double-take. There’s recognition in her eyes as she speaks again: ‘Oh, sorry. How may I help you?’ ‘We’d like to have a drink and some help with our map,’ Antony tells her. ‘Of course,’ she smiles and looks around the terrace, ‘I have a spot down there on the benches or a few under the parasol.’ ‘Seb?’ He takes a look around and finds a nice spot that doesn’t have too much sun but isn’t quite in the shade either. Plus, it’s a bit more secluded. ‘That one over there. Is that okay?’ She looks down at the paper in front of her and nods. ‘Yeah, that’s alright. Have a seat. I’ll be right there.’ ‘Thank you.’ ‘No problem.’ She runs back into the bar to do whatever she has to do. They sit down and watch her dart all over the terrace, stopping shorty to inform her colleague with the beard of something, and then walks over to them. ‘What can I get you?’  She smiles brightly at the two. ‘A beer please,’ Antony says. ‘Make that two,’ Sebastian adds. She nods. ‘Two beers, coming right up.’ And she’s gone again. Before she reaches the door, she seems to be stopped by a guest whose glass is still full. She talks to her briefly and while the woman talking to her seems very serious, she keeps laughing it off. All while darting short glances at them and then the woman she’s talking to points at them. Of course, Antony takes that opportunity to joke around. He points at himself with a questioning look as he catches the woman’s eye. She shakes her head and points at Sebastian. The girl waves it off and quickly runs inside. It takes less than a minute until she’s outside again and standing at their table. ‘What was all that about,’ Antony asks her as she puts the beers down in front of them. ‘Oh, she’s a regular and she was curious why she heard me talk English.’ ‘So why the pointing?’ Her cheeks turn bright red as she clutches her tray with two hands but the look on her face seems to tell a whole different story than her body language. She chuckles. ‘She knows my love life is a mess and she knows I fall for guys like you,’ she tells the two as she looks at Sebastian, ‘I might have to prepare you for her. She’s quite the woman and she’s tried to set me up with guests before.’ Antony laughs. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to handle her.’ ‘You’re American, right?’ He nods. ‘I’m not sure you’ll be able to handle her.’ With those words, she walks away with a huge grin on her lips.

‘En?’ The woman looks anxiously excited for your answer. You laugh and wave her off. ‘Heb het niet gevraagd.’ I didn’t ask. ‘Waarom niet?’ Why not? ‘Hij komt alleen voor een drankje en ik ben aan her werk. Ik hoor niet met gasten te flirten.’ He’s only here for a drink and I’m working. I’m not supposed to flirt with guests. ‘Dus? Hij is je type en je bent al bijna een jaar niet uit geweest.’ So? He’s your type and you haven’t gone out in a year. You sigh and shake your head. ‘Ik ga hem niet uit vragen.’ I’m not going to ask him out. ‘Dan doe ik het.’ Then I will. ‘Be my guest.’ She gets up from her chair and limps over to the two Americans sitting across the terrace. You can’t help but watch what she’s going to do and your coworker joins you. ‘Wat gaat Sanne doen?’ What’s Sanne doing? ‘Ze gaat een date voor me regelen.’ She’s getting me a date. He looks over at the two men and looks a bit confused. ‘Wacht, zijn dat-’ Wait, are they- ‘Sebastian Stan en Antony Mackie. De winter soldier en de falcon.’ ‘Maar die zijn toch al veertig ofzo?’ Aren’t those two like forty or something? You shrug. ‘Sanne stond erop. Op deze manier laat ze in ieder geval even met rust.’ Sanne insisted. At least she’ll leave me alone for a while after this. ‘Je gaat ervan uit dat ze niet me je uit zouden willen?’ You’re assuming they wouldn’t go out with you? ‘Antony is getrouwd en ik ben vrij zeker dat ze beter dan mij kunnen krijgen. Er staan letterlijk modellen voor ze in de rij.’ Antony is married and I’m pretty sure they can get better than me. Modells literally line up for them. ‘Ze ziet er anders vrij tevreden uit.’ She looks pretty satisfied. We watch as Sanne walks back towards us with a victorious look on her face. ‘Tom, je moet haar vrij geven. Hij zei dat hij met haar uit zo gaan als ze zou helpen met hun kaart. Ze zijn verdwaalt ofzo.’ Tom, you have to give her the rest of the day off. He told me that he’d take her out if she’d help them with their map. They’re lost or something. You could sink into the ground right there and then. Tom checks his watch and seems to seriously consider it. ‘Ja, ga ze maar helpen. T is toch rustig.’ Yeah, you go help them. It’s not busy. Your jaw drops. Tom can be quite lazy and often keeps you on until closing so he doesn’t have to do everything alone. ‘Je maakt een grapje.’ You’re kidding, right? He nudges you towards the door of the bar, knowing that you’ll have to write down your hours and grab your phone before you sit down with them. ‘Nee, kom op. Dit meen je niet.’ No, come on. You’re not serious. ‘Y/n, maakt niet uit wat er gebeurt, dit is een geweldig verhaal om te vertellen op feestjes. Ga gewoon.’ Y/n, it doesn’t matter what happens, this’ll still be a great story to tell at parties. Just go. Sanne puts her hand on your shoulder as she says it. You sigh and take your loss. Or win. However you want to look at it. ‘Wat wil je drinken?’ What do you want to drink? Tom asks as he trails behind you into the building. ‘Doe maar een biertje.’ A beer would be nice. He nods and gets to tapping while you fill in your hours in the folder behind the bar and take your phone out of a drawer under the coffee machine. ‘Ik haat je.’ I hate you. ‘Tuurlijk.’ For sure. Tom hands you your beer and you head outside to sit down with Sebastian and Antony. You grab a chair and pull it towards their table. When you sit down, both men have an astonished look on their faces. ‘They actually gave you the day off,’ Antony asks, ‘all because your love life isn’t ideal?’ ‘You clearly underestimated how terrible my love life is,’ you joke. ‘Well now you’ve gotta tell us everything,’ Antony urges as he leans back in his chair. ‘I don’t have to tell you anything.’ ‘I’m supposed to take you on a date, so I would like it if you did tell me something,’ Sebastian says. ‘You really don’t have to,’ you tell them, ‘I know she’s a scary woman but she won’t kill you or anything. Besides, you won’t ever see either of us again once you leave.’ ‘That’s fair but this is a great story,’ Sebastian shrugs. You scoff and scoot your chair a little closer. ‘Sure. Now let’s see this map of yours.’

“We found it.” Sebastian sends the text and drops his bag in his room. It takes only a few seconds until you send a message back. “Yay, good job.” He smiles as he sits down on his bed and types his response. “Nah, that was all you.” “I wouldn’t be too grateful. I am going to cyberbully the shit out of you.” “Sure.” There’s knocking on his hotel room. He calls for the person to come in, knowing it’ll probably be Mackie and it is. ‘Hey man,’ he says and sits down in a nice chair across the room. ‘Hey,’ Sebastian replies, ‘you got a good room?’ ‘Great. Say, are you going to go back to take our tour guide on that date?’ Sebastian shrugs. ‘I was thinking about it but she’s quite a bit younger.’ ‘That’s what I was thinking,’ Antony says with a nod. ‘But I still think you should do it.’ ‘Hold on, why?’ ‘She said something on the terrace that kind of stuck with me.’ He gets up from his chair and walks over to the window to look out over the busy Amsterdam streets. He looks a bit disappointed by the view. He preferred the small town. ‘You will probably never see her again after you leave.’ ‘What?’ ‘She’s from a small town, she works in the town’s bar, no one has a clue who you are around there. And I saw how you looked at her. So why not take a chance? Best case scenario, you have a fun date. Worst case scenario, you have a great date and are stuck with feelings for a woman who lives across the world. Either way, she’s fun to be around.’ Sebastian is shocked for a second but Antony is spitting straight facts. Y/n was a joy to talk to while she was helping them figure out their next move and what does he really have to lose? ‘You’re right.’

~Two months later~

‘Sebastian, we heard you finally took a trip with Antony Mackie. Do you have any stories?’ The fan looks smug as she asks it like she knows something. Like she knows what he and Mackie know. He adjusts himself in his seat and puts the microphone to his mouth. ‘We went to the Netherlands and when you’re there you have to go cycling. We got lost and Mackie refused to use his phone to look for where to go so we ended up in a small local bar where the waitress helped us find out that we were actually cycling towards the wrong city. We wanted to cycle to Amsterdam and we ended up in Amersfoort.’ And then I fell for the waitress who showed us around the city to make sure we had a good time either way even if we could’ve just taken a taxi to Amsterdam. We stayed longer than we should’ve and I miss her. But he doesn’t say that. He couldn’t. ‘The waitress,’ the interviewer asks in disbelief, ‘she could speak English?’ ‘The Dutch are actually great English speakers.’ ‘Was the waitress cute?’ Sebastian laughs. ‘She was adorable,’ he says, trying to play it off as a joke, an exaggeration, ‘but she was really smart. She helped us figure it out and even helped us to get back to our hotel.’ ‘You didn’t sneak her in, did you?’ ‘Oh, no, no. She just told us what to do and where to go.’

Sebastian walks through his apartment when his phone goes off. He checks the screen to see Mackie’s name pop up and he sighs. He knows what he wants to talk about. The interview went up just an hour or so ago. ‘I know,’ Sebastian says as he presses his phone to his ear. “Just for good measure, I’m going to tell you anyway. Call her.” ‘I can’t do that to her.’ “To her or to yourself?” ‘It’s too much of a distance. Even for long-distance.’ “She told you she’s thinking of moving to Canada.” ‘Doesn’t mean she’ll move here with the probability of a relationship. And a relationship in the spotlight.’ “So you’re going to deny you felt something?” ‘I’m not going to deny it, I just-’ “You’re going to bottle it up until it eats you alive in hopes of losing feelings.” Antony sighs. “Seb, this girl was made for you.” His phone starts beeping. ‘Hold up, I’m getting another line.’ “Sebastian, don’t-” He hangs up and picks the other call up without checking who is calling. He just wanted to get rid of Mackie for bothering him about Y/n again. ‘Hello?’ “Oh, hey.” Sebastian freezes at the sound of your voice coming through the speaker. “I didn’t think you’d pick up this fast. I need some help.” ‘From me?’ “Yes, I seem to have taken a wrong turn while cycling to Amsterdam.” She giggles softly. “And now I’m lost in New Amsterdam.” ‘New Amsterdam?’ He feels his stomach tingle at the words but he isn’t sure if she’s hinting at what she’s hinting at. “No, wait, they don’t call it that anymore. New York.” ‘You’re in New York?’ “Yeah, some dude with a gap in his teeth dropped me off in front of an apartment complex in SoHo but I think I’ve been scammed.” ‘In SoHo?’ He rushes to his window, struggling to open it with one hand. “Yeah, you know anyone who might have a place for me to rest my head until I figure out how to get back?” He finally pulls the window open and sticks his head out to look down and there you stand. You smile up at him and wave. “Oh, there you are,” she says through the phone. ‘I’ll be right down.’ He doesn’t waste another second. He pulls on his shoes on his bare feet, hopping as he goes. Snatches his keys from the table and sprints out, not really caring that he looks a mess. He runs down the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator, and bursts out the door. You smile at him and he freezes, suddenly realizing you’re really here. ‘Wow,’ he mumbles, ‘it’s you.’ ‘Hey,’ you say as you bite your lip. He leans in slightly and then Sebastian becomes awfully aware of the prying eyes on the New York streets. He wants to hold you, kiss your lips, but he can’t on the street. Not when you just came here. ‘Come in,’ he says as he starts to usher you inside. He walks you to the elevator and presses the button. It opens right away and the two of you step inside. He notices you study his face and he feels himself getting nervous. ‘What are you doing?’ ‘Trying to figure out if you’re actually happy to see me or just scared that I’m a stalker.’ ‘I’m happy to see you,’ he tells you as he suppresses a smile. You don’t. You smile brightly as you take his hand. The feeling is familiar and yet a little nostalgic after being apart for two whole months. ‘I’m happy to see you too.’ The elevator door opens and he shows you to his door. It’s only then that he notices you don’t have anything with you. ‘Did you jump on a plane like this?’ ‘No, I got a hotel room just in case I read you all wrong when you left.’ You take off your shoes as you step inside, something you also did at your own place when you took him home. He smiles and wraps his arms around your waist. ‘You didn’t’. Your arms slide around his neck as if they’re meant to be there. He slowly dips down and presses a kiss to your lips. ‘Good, ‘cause you’re stuck with me two weeks.’ ‘And after that?’ ‘I either introduce you to my parents or I go back.’ ‘Go hard or go home.’ ‘Exactly.’

[naturaldaisaster]

thesoulof-hp: Oooo Can you write one about when they get back to present day and what their next move is as a couple?!

Sure can! Thanks for the prompt :)

I’m a bit out of the loop on what people think things are gonna look like when we get back to present day/when the show ends but this is one of the possible futures that has been bouncing around my lil head!

On AO3

drew insp. from peace by t swift

(I’d give you my sunshine, give you my best

but the rain is always gonna come

if you’re standing with me.)

peaceShe can’t stop painting the walls. They were all grey, when she moved in. If Daisy knew anything about renting apartments, her want list for this one may have included something like “doesn’t look like a bunker” in addition to the only other detail she cared about — which had been proximity to the house Jemma bought. Unfortunately, apartment renting was not a life skill taught either by the nuns or by SHIELD. So after closing the deal, she’d come to the place with her new keys, her backpack, and one single box of belongings. There were no furnishings yet, and she sat in the middle of the empty would-be living room, staring at the dark walls.

She wished someone would have told her it would be so quiet.

When she couldn’t sit any longer she went to open the blinds. They were jammed, and old, and bunker-y. She sent soft vibrations through the screws holding up the blinds, until the entire contraption fell to the carpet with a muffled clunk. The glow of the streetlights streamed in to add a new shade of beige to the darkness.

Someone, a neighbor, was walking their lab down the sidewalk. It was this that made her pulse race and her heart constrict. It was all too still, too quiet. Too normal.

She called Sousa— he was getting better at the phone, but still refused to text — on principle, he said.

“Did you guys like, paint shit? In the dark ages?”

“Did we… paint?”

“Like, walls.”

“Sure.”

“Wanna come help me paint mine?”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“On my way.”

That first night, they drove to the hardware store together. Sousa hovered at her shoulder while she fingered through the paint swatches. She had never done anything like it before, and the choices were overwhelming.

“You should do yellow,” Sousa offered unhelpfully.

Daisy wrinkled her nose.

“Yellow?”

“I like yellow,” he defended, but he was grinning softly in defeat. “Reminds me of you.”

She ended up picking a purply blue called “french lavender”. While the paint mixed they got brushes and pans and a few other tools that the employee who finally wore them down with his offers of “help” directed them to. Sousa listened intently to the man’s painting tips, brow furrowed and folded. Daisy wanted to tell him to relax — it wasn’t that big of a deal. But she didn’t. She didn’t even say it when they got back to her apartment, and he carefully taped the molding as directed — even though it was going to double their work time.

With him around, the quiet wasn’t so bad. She gave him her phone to play Spotify — he had put up with only so much of her music before he put his foot down and insisted that for every new artist she introduced him to, he got to introduce her to some of his music. It was an easy pattern for them to fall into, trading off turns. She wasn’t sure if it really was his turn tonight. It didn’t matter.

It was past 1AM when they finished. He had opened the window at some point along the way, and the playlist had long since died out. Warm night air mingled with the fresh scent of paint. She was lying on her back on the carpet beside him, playing absently with his calloused fingers, rested on her stomach. Laying there with him, staring up at their wall — it was perfect.

When she woke with warm sunshine streaming over them, her head curled into the warm, steady rise and fall of his chest, his breath in her hair, their fingers still tangled — it was perfect then, too.

After she started moving in furniture, she realized she hated “french lavender”.

And so it began. “French lavender”, turned to “Robin’s egg blue”. “Robin’s egg blue”, turned to “cotton white”.

“Your walls are going to start peeling off in rainbows,” Simmons muttered whenever Daisy asked her opinion on different swatches, “honestly, Daisy, no one repaints this much. Daniel, tell her no one paints this much.”

She can’t stop herself — it still doesn’t feel right. She practically avoids the apartment most days. The quiet emptiness is like electricity in her veins. The stillness makes her heart pound in anticipation. She can’t relax. When the wall looks right — then, she’ll be able to breath.

She has a bed now, and a couch, and a table and chairs — plenty of things to sit on, but she sits on the floor a lot anyway, staring at the wall. Mostly uninterrupted. So she is surprised when her phone rings.

“Daniel?”

“Can I come over?”

They are firmly “dating” now. It feels like a silly word for it, like “boyfriend” seems like a silly word for him — this man that she’s plucked out of time. These words don’t fit right, they don’t quite match - a shade off from whatever it is that they are.

When she opens her door to him, she immediately notices the can of paint.

“Just give me a chance,” he defends, brushing a kiss to her forehead above her raised eyebrows as he steps over the threshold.

“Jemma put you up to this,” she gives in dry response, and he laughs.

“Nope, all me.”

“I’m not going to like it.”

“That’s fine.”

He moves past her into the living room and is already heaving the couch back away from the currently dark blue wall when she follows behind him, arms crossed over her chest. She makes no move to help him — in fact, she feels frustration bubbling up in her chest, threatening to take hold.

“Stop,” she says, but it is under her breath and he doesn’t hear over his own heaving of the couch. “Daniel,” she says louder now, “stop.”

“Daisy-“

“Dammit, just…” her breath catches, “just stop.”

She means to turn on her heel and storm out of the room, but she feels all of a sudden like the wind has been knocked full out of her, and all she can do is stand perfectly still searching to get her breath back.

Daniel has stopped now, and he stares across the room at her with a furrowed brow and eyes full of worry.

“Daisy,” he mutters, taking a few steps closer to her. “What’s wrong?”

She is still focusing on her breathing, because if she doesn’t she doesn't know what she'll say. She squeezes her eyes closed tight and counts as she breaths in, counts as she breaths out. Then, she carefully unclenches her teeth to speak.

“I’m not going to like it,” she says, enunciating each word carefully and fighting to remain steady.

“So then we’ll paint it again. Relax,” his eyes are soft and worried, “its not that big of a deal — what is this about?”

Her eyes are burning now. It isn’t the paint, of course it isn’t. But she doesn’t know how to put into words what it is.

“I don’t… this isn’t… fuck,” she is falling out of her own control now, a stray tear escaping her eyes and plummeting down her cheek. Daniel is close enough to mindlessly thumb it away.

“I lived in a van — a car,” she finally manages, “with carpet for walls. This,” she waves wildly around them, and a couple more tears knock themselves loose, “god, I don’t know what this is. I don't know how to be like this. It is just so…” a sob is strangling her, “It is all so goddamn quiet that I can’t breathe.”

When the sobs finally do overcome her, he is already holding her tight against him, burying a kiss on top of her head.

She wants this, wants him, wants normal walls that don’t feel like they are strangling her.

“After the war,” he says into her hair, “I slept on the floor. For… longer than I care to admit.”

He hesitates. Holds her tighter. She presses her forehead against his shoulder, breathes his warm sunshine-y scent, focuses on re-steadying herself.

“I was used to a sleeping bag on the rocks, at best. My bed… I felt like I was drowning in it.”

Steady enough now, she pushes back off of him and takes a step back rubbing roughly at her eyes.

“I wasn’t a soldier.”

“Yes, you were.”

The certainty of his words, the sureness in his eyes, stills her.

“And no one, least of all me, expects you to just… move on. Okay?”

She presses her lips together and breathes in slowly, counting. Then out.

“It is chaos,” she finally manages, voice still cracking. “This place is chaos, I can’t help it, I can’t stop it. I just… I want it to be peaceful and quiet and I want you to be here and not worrying about if I’m having another goddamn psychotic break about the color of the wall. But I’m never going to stop having psychotic breaks about dumb shit like the color of the walls.”

He smiles, just a little twitch of the corner of his lip, shaking his head ever so slightly.

“Daisy, I don’t give a damn about the walls. I just want to be with you.”

“I just want…” To have something normal? To give him something normal? He is watching her with those wide, dark eyes, his perpetually furrowed brow. The silence sits comfortably now, that its between them. Her heart gives a stutter. “I just want to be with you, too.”

(He brought "Daisy Yellow", and a flyer from their trip to the museum a few weeks prior. They move the couch and use the map of the constellations on the flyer to begin stenciling bright yellow stars into the deep ocean blue. She is sock-footed on the arm of the couch working on the upper corner, and he is sitting below her, so that when she sinks to a seat to dab more paint onto her brush, his head lolls comfortably backwards against her thigh.

Yellow paint has dried into her fingers, she notices as she runs a hand through his soft curls.

“We’re never going to finish this,” she says, eyeing the hundreds of thousands of pinpricks of stars on the flyer they are trying to emulate.

He laughs, low and deep.

“No rush.”

She slips off the arm of the couch, settling onto the floor beside him. It is still, and silent, and peaceful.

“Maybe you should stick around. For the wall.”

Soft — his eyes staring back at hers, the carpet under her socked toes, his lips against hers, the couch pressing into their backs, his hair tangled in her fingers.

“Okay.”)

[melyaliz]

Chapter 3 The Frayed Ends of Sanity

Thief and the Outlaw Masterlist 

Fandom: Marvel / X-men 

Summary: 

Pairing: Peter x OC 

Notes: The mystery continues. I’m not very good at suspenseful stories 

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

DONATE or REQUEST

--------

Do not grieve, O King and Queen. Your daughter shall not die. I cannot undo what my elder sister has done; the princess shall indeed prick her finger with the spindle, but she shall not die. She shall fall into sleep that will last a hundred years. At the end of that time, a king’s son will find her and awaken her. - Sleeping Beauty 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Gemma had always loved fairytales as a kid. Not your classic Disney movies (although those were great too) but the weird stuff, the originals. Her mother had given her a book of old fables which the young girl had devoured. She adored how the heroes would fight for their fates while the villains would make some weird mistake, would slip up and meet their demise so that the heroes could win.

Gemma also loved how in those stories the ideas were so outlandish. A girl out in a glass cage because she was too beautiful her parents were worried someone would try and take her away. 

A stepmother cutting off her daughter’s own toe just so it would fit in a shoe. Just to catch the eye of a prince.

Or a girl sleeping for a million years only to have a man come and kiss her. Wake her from the spell she had been put under. 

Normally the princesses never asked for their lots in life, just becoming a tool for some vindictive evil to reach their revenge. 

Although Gemma was jealous of one thing. 

At least the princesses got some rest. 

-----

It was cold. 

That was Gemma’s first thought as she stirred from her slumber. The night air giving her goosebumps. Had she left a window open?  Shivering she tried to reach for her blanket only to realize she wasn’t in her bed. Had she fallen again?

Slowly she opened her eyes her world coming into view. 

Large trees looked back shading her from an early morning sky. The sun just slowly starting to turn the dark blue into shades of pink and gold. The ground crunching under her as she moved, something poked her in the rib. 

This wasn’t her bedroom.

Sitting up she gasped looking around. Why was she outside? Where was she? What was going on? 

Her head was pounding as if her heart had decided to reside there hammering against her skull. Her whole body ached as if she had spent the at a metal concert in the mosh pit. 

Rubbing her arm trying to get the blood flowing to warm herself up she looked around trying to get her bearings. She was in a forest but there were a lot of forests around her home in New Jersey. Most not very expansive, but this cleaning of nature could be anywhere.  

Letting out a sigh she tried to calm her brain. Tried to remember how she had gotten her. Had she been drugged? 

The last thing she remembered was sitting on the bus with that weird boy listening to music. 

The boy.

There was no way. She hadn’t eaten anything and they sat far enough apart she would have felt something. 

Looking down she realized something else. 

She wasn’t in her work clothes. 

Instead, she was in a black long sleeve shirt and jeans. The jeans looked pretty beat up and the shirt was missing a sleeve. 

“What the actual…” 

“Gemma?” 

At the sound of her name, she looked up. 

And there he was. 

The boy. 

Ok man but…

“What are you… Where am I?” 

“Are you ok? I called the police…”

“What… How?” 

He knelt down next to her a few feet away. His large brown eyes looking her over as if looking over a wounded animal. His voice gentle, “You’ve been missing for a week.”

“I’ve WHAT!?!” her voice felt horse as if she had been screaming -maybe the concert idea wasn’t too far fetched-. A hand flew up to her chest. Was she going crazy? She had just lost a week and work up in totally different clothes feeling like she had been run over by a bus. 

“Shhh shhh” he said scooting closer, “You’re going to be ok.” 

 She turned to him her blue eyes wide and accusingly. Why was he here? How had he found her? How did he know it had been a week?  

“GEMMA!” This voice she instantly recognized. Her father. Her mother’s sobs could be heard as well as the barking of a dog. Looking past the silver-haired boy she saw her parents and a few policemen, one tugging on the leash of a german shepherd- coming toward her. 

Her father reached her first rushing to her taking her in his arms hugging, “Where have you been?” he pulled away running his hands over her face studying her, “What happened?” 

“I… I don’t know dad. I was going to work and then… I was here.” 

“Did someone drug you? Is it that one guy from your work? Paul? Did he touch you?” 

“No, dad… I… Honestly” she looked up at her mother who was sobbing, the relief they had found her daughter causing her to cry uncontrollably, “I don’t remember anything.” 

 “Maybe this had someone to do with...” Her mother started but Gemma’s father cut her off turning shaking his head. The man turned toward their audience. The two policemen and the scruffy haired bus rider. 

Gemma met her finder’s eyes for a moment. He shifted slightly looking awkwardly between her and her parents as if he wasn’t sure if he should leave or not. 

“Thank you for finding our daughter...” Gemma’s father stood holding out his hand. 

“Peter” 

“Thanks, kid” taking Peter’s hand he shook it before turning to the cops. “We’re going to take her home,” 

The cops nodded one of them handing Gemma a blanket to wrap her body around. She didn’t realize she was shaking until her mother wrapped her arms around her kissing her forehead mumbling “my baby girl” 

Gemma turned studying the boy, Peter. Hand’s shoved in his pockets he met her gaze through shaggy hair his expression unreadable. So different from the silly energetic weird boy on the bus. He seemed so serious now. Not in a scary way but almost like he was confused maybe? 

Then again he had just found a girl who had been apparently missing a week and couldn’t remember any of it. 

“How did you find me?” she finally asked looking up at her parents as she buckled herself into the back seat of the car. Her mother scooting up next to her as if not wanting to leave her side.

“We knew you were missing when your work called.” her mother let out a strangled sob at the memory. “You never showed up” 

“Nancy…” 

“I’m sorry I was just so scared. Sweetie, is it your powers? Are they evolving further? Maybe we should go back to that doctor?” 

Her parents lapsed into silence waiting for her answer. Gemma looked out the window unsure how to respond. “I don’t think it’s my powers, I don’t know what it is,” she muttered looking down at her hands. 

“That boy, I think he’s the one who called us. Saying he found our lost daughter and where to be. Do you know him?”

Gemma bit her lip, should she tell them? It would only worry them more. No, she needed to figure this out for herself first. She needed more facts before she dragged them into this. 

“No. Guess he just found me in the forest.” 

“How did he know to call us?” 

The question sent a chill down her spine. 

How did he?

---------------------------

Drew greeted her with a hug and a plate of pizza. 

“I even ordered gross mushrooms just for you,” he mumbled shifting from foot to foot as if unsure what to do with himself. Something about it reminded Gemma of the boy in the forest. 

Peter. 

After dinner she told her parents she was going to bed, tired and sore she just wanted to sleep this whole experience away. A small part of her hoped maybe she would just wake up and it would all be a bad dream 

Unfortunately sleep didn’t come as easy as she hoped. Instead, she just laid there looking up at her ceiling trying to piece together that had happened.  

What was wrong with her? 

Finally, the clock ticked 1am and she gave up. Sleep wasn’t coming. 

Sitting up she shuffled across the room pulling a book off the shelf. Fairytales and folktales. Slowly she walked back to her bed and that was when she saw him.

Standing outside her window, leaning against the large oak in her backyard. 

Their eyes locked, his brown ones growing wide and he turned about to bolt. 

But he couldn’t. 

A bright blue wall blocked his way. 

“You STAY!” she hissed from her window before scrambling through the window climbing down from the second floor. Something she used to do all the time in her teen years. Sneaking out to meet friends on school nights. 

Peter turned watching her as she stormed up to him. Hands glowing eyes bright, angry. 

“Who are you and what do you want with me?” The girl stood there in her sweat pants and tank top eyes flashing with sparks of energy. Something he had only seen when she wasn’t Gemma. When she was that other girl.

“I’m just checking in” he shrugged looking down at her a soft smile playing on his lips. Now that she wasn’t trying to take him or his team down he realized how much smaller she was than him. Her head coming to about his chin, her frame looking even smaller in a tight tank top and baggy sweats. 

“Oh really? Seems kind of creepy, you standing outside my window, showing up on my bus ride to work, the first to find me in the woods...” her arms crossed over her chest trying to look scary. He wasn’t sure why she didn’t scar him. She had kicked his butt more times than he could count at this point. Maybe it had something to do with the fluffy cloud pattered sweats she was wearing. 

“I wasn’t the one who put you there if that’s what you’re asking” 

“Then why are you always around?” Gemma asked studying the boy trying to find the answers. 

“Why do you think? Do you really not remember?” his voice was low as if he was telling her a secret.  

She took a step back sizing him up. Studying him as if he had the answers for her lost week. He waited for the realization. He really didn’t look all THAT different without the suit. 

“Did we go to school together?” 

“What!?! NO.” how could she not… “The power plant? You and your three friends… there was a bunch of wiz bang.” Peter made a few motions like explosions and lasers. This earned him nothing but a blank stare. There was no way. “Look come on, there is no way…” he reached out for her hand and that’s when it happened. 

Their hands touched and it was like lighting. Cracking between them as their hands touched. Peter felt it pulled from him exploding into her. Bright blue and sparking with an energy that lit up the whole neighborhood for just an instant. 

The force of it threw them both backward laying in the grassy lawn just blinking at each other. 

“What just happened?” Gemma asked her eyes sparkling with the energy that flicked around her before slowly dying like sapphire embers. 

Peter shrugged getting up feeling his body quickly regenerating itself, “What can I say? I have an explosive personality” darting over he stood above her. Showing his speed to her for the first time that night. 

Gemma looked up at him from her seat, her mind racing hands still warm from the surge of energy. Peter held out his hand to help her up “let’s try this again?” he said a large smile on his face. 

Warry she studied it for a moment before slowly slipping her fingers around his open hand.  “You’re a mutant like me.” 

Peter nodded, “I’m pretty fast yeah” he winked as her which earned him a small smile.

“I knew there were others I just never met one.” she told him her hand still clasping his “Hey what” her hand went up to her neck pulling away as he had leaned forward trying to get closer to her. His eyes went from her shoulder to her eyes face so close she could see the stubble on his cheeks and the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. 

“Huh.” and like that he was standing a much more normal distance from her. 

“What?” 

“You really don’t remember me at all? Honest.” 

“Besides the bus and today, no. Why?” she wracked her brain trying to think of where she had seen this boy before. She couldn’t very well say her dreams. That was weird, creepy and also made no sense. 

“Ok well, see you around then.” he gave her a mock salute before disappearing into the dark night leaving only a gust of wind in his wake. Gemma frowned biting her lip as she wrang her hands feeling even more confused than before. 

As Peter raced toward the Xsavior Mansion his mind was racing as well. Everything clicking together. If they hadn’t touched. If her long blonde hair hadn’t flown forward while she had turned to see the ground before she hit it.

He wouldn’t have glimpsed it. At the base of her neck. Siting there snugly like a tick embedded in her skin. 

And it all made sense now.

GET TAGGED!- 

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Story Tag: @olive-tini

[jojparasol]

silver springs

I hope you all enjoy my first imagine! I originally wrote this at around 1am so mind any mistakes or anything. This was clearly inspired by Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Silver Springs.’ It’s one of my favourite songs and you’ll see a few lyrics spread throughout. Enjoy x

The one where Y/N is tired of being the girl on the side and harry has a promise.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Sexual mentions, angst??

Part two here and part three here

"I brought her a ring — a promise ring," he whispered, staring up into the ceiling as he felt his chest heaving in a calm pattern. Y/N closed her eyes the second he said that pronoun, knowing that it was not her he was referring to, of course, it wasn’t. Oh God, she felt this feeling too often. The feeling that strangled its long arms around her, but it was the softest drop of poison that made her heart melt. 

And it hurt. It hurt knowing that her love for him ran for miles. But he stopped at the starting line, watching her run with her weak legs trying to liven up her love for him as he watched her disappear with a heavy heart. It was clear he never loved her. He loves the woman he’s going to give a promise ring to, he’s gonna get down on one knee as he proposes her a promise. A promise to give her the world, give her his future and give her his everything. And Y/N stood there like a fool — she knows she’s a fool and possibly the biggest one out. She’s going to stay until he properly tells her she needs to go and leave him for good. It might’ve been time for Y/N to take her heart back from Harry because he wasn’t looking after it well, considering the fact that he never did. 

Y/N scrunches the white sheets up to her chest, her faint red knuckles fisted between the soft fabric as it covered her naked body, warming the goosebumps that scattered throughout her bare skin. Her pouted lips puffed out into a small sigh, slightly shaking her head at the thought of Harry’s future without her.

“I don’t wanna know, H,” she managed to croak out, feeling her throat tighten at the realisation of her hurt. She felt her head spinning in continuous circles that ran around her heart. She could practically see shades of grey flashing in front of her sunken eyes as if there wasn’t any sort of colour to her world at that moment. 

“She’s pretty. She loves me,” he continued with no sort of care for the vulnerable woman lying beside him. He didn't need to fucking brag. There was no need for the reminder that Harry’s loved or that Y/N knows very well that she’s pretty. Hell, there’s always that constant reminder. Whenever Y/N came over, she’d see photo frames of the couple together or simply going on her phone where’d she see recent photos of Harry out for lunch or on a jog on her feed. Not to mention, whenever Harry’s phone lit up from his nightstand, she knew it was her daily ‘good night’ message that covered the lock screen of surprise — her.

“Then why the fuck are you here? Why did you just sleep with me if she loves you and you love her?” Y/N sat up, her voice still broken and strained. Her hair tangled and her glassy eyes dared to look at the man who she couldn’t help but still love.

She told him she loved him years ago. She remembers aimlessly mumbling to herself that he would never love her, shutting down her previous thoughts of confidence where she felt like she could confess her undying love for that man. They’re best friends and as duty calls, she stood by him throughout every harsh break up he’s been through. She would sit on the couch, with his head in her lap as she comforted him saying the usual phrases of ‘you deserve better’ or ‘you’ll find the one.’ And Y/N believed she was the one.

So, when the rush of alcohol split through her body on a lonely, drunken night, she found herself pouring her hopeless love to him over the phone. She doesn’t remember him saying much apart from a simple, ‘I’m coming over.’ He ended the call and appeared in her apartment in what felt like another quick shot of alcohol. Harry sat her down, gazing into her bloodshot eyes and gave her a sympathetic smile. He didn’t even have to open his mouth for her to bawl her eyes out, probably emitting the ugliest sounds she thinks he’s ever heard. But she continued anyway, pathetically crying into his arms as he gently thumbed away her tears. Harry never questioned if she meant it because he always knew that ‘drunk words turn sober.’  A year later, he met her. He met the person he claims as 'the one.'

Delilah. That was her name — just like that Tom Jones song or the Plain White T's song. Either way, her name just delighted everyone — see, even her name was similar to the word delight. And God, the way it rolled off his tongue so naturally like it was the most simple thing to do. Y/N saw Harry's eyes sparkle and all he could ever do was compliment her on every single detail of the human being. She was his epitome of life and beauty.

"Christ, Y/N. Ye should've seen 'er. She's everything I could have wanted and more."

It was like a stab to her chest but Y/N congratulated him anyway because he was just too God damn happy and it was what he deserved. But she couldn’t comprehend how hurt she felt — words couldn’t describe.

All her hatred ripped into oblivion when Y/N finally met Delilah and she suddenly understood Harry. Y/N could not point a single flaw on the woman. She had piercing hazel eyes and wavy chestnut hair that reached just above her breasts. She had a voice like an autumn wind and the look of a Greek Goddess. Her words and actions dripped with love and perfectly fitted Harry's trademark of 'treat people with kindness.' Y/N remembered not feeling any anger towards Delilah because it wasn't her fault. It was never her fault. It was Harry's.

Harry stayed silent. The room was left with heavy breaths from Y/N's crying as she reminisced on their past.

"I don't regret it, though. I don't regret the first night we spent with each other."

He was talking about that night. The night that he and Delilah had gotten into a huge fight and he came running to Y/N with desperate pleas. She felt sorry for him, of course, and they were back to the same usual setting — where his head rested on her lap and he cried about how much he doesn't want to lose her because she's the one. That was when Y/N realised she never felt this way with any man because she never tried to. She never was interested in any other guy apart from the Harry. He'd always complain why Y/N never dated anyone and for a bit, she also didn't know why. But in the end, she finally found out why.

Y/N had set up his favourite rom coms and she cradled Harry in her arms as he cried when Allie and Noah broke up, parting their ways as they left their summer love. She also cried, a stray tear falling down her reddened cheek but Harry never noticed. They survived the movie, blinking at the credits scene. Harry had thanked her for being there as she nodded, avoiding eye contact. But he leaned in close to caress her cheek and soon enough, his lips pressed against hers. She didn't stop him — she didn't want to, she kissed back just as hard as he did, forbidden adrenaline rushing through her veins. She admitted to herself that she was selfish, she's always been with Harry. He was her only dream and all she ever wanted to do was love him. And that night, he let her.

Y/N never understood why he stayed after the first night. But, she didn't want to question it in fear of losing him. She was just there whenever he needed a temporary relief and she happily obliged. It was wrong, but the feeling was right. She was his silver springs.

"Why did you stay?" Y/N finally asked the question she's been asking herself ever since she started loving him. She turned to the side to face him. He was sat up, his bare chest slowly heaving up and down as he stared at the piece of jewellery in his hands. He was fumbling with the tiny, glittery ring in the palm of his hands that was probably worth more than what Y/N could ever achieve in her life. He had his thumb caressing over the shiny diamond, feeling the cold metal of the band. It's as if the ring was mocking her. Mocking her that it was going to be given to someone else — someone but her. Delilah.

He looked up, staring past the ceiling and into the sky, he was looking up to an imagined angel he always trusted on. "I don't exactly know. I just felt like I needed to. After all those years, I had to."

"Can you tell me if it was worth it?" She asked once again. Suddenly, she could only ask questions. Questions where she'd end up hurt either way. Questions where she's down to lose her heart.

"I don't think you want to know," he mumbled, aware of her fragile state. He didn't want to look at her because they both knew they were avoiding something. He knows she should stop and that he should be careful with Y/N. But he was never careful with her. Y/N agrees, she claims that he's the reason why there are bruises on her heart.

"Is it over?" The words fell off the end of her quivering lips. It was an awaiting question because if he did say yes, it was her queue to go. And Harry knew that he had to give her an answer, an answer that'll hurt although it'll be filled with an aching truth.

"Yes."

So she left. The second the word left his lips, she grabbed her clothes from the floor and quickly dressed into them. Harry didn't say anything as she did that. He simply formed a fist with his palms, the ring digging into his skin.

“Y’know, Harry, mark my words. Time casts a spell on you, but you won’t forget me. I hope these words haunt you because I tried loving you but you fucking wouldn’t let me."

It seemed like he didn't process it fast enough, it was a whole blur to him. He watched her shake her head in disbelief after her short speech, mumbling some profanities as she left with the door shutting closed.

After a few minutes of silence, Harry could hear the sound of the car starting and eventually driving away. She was also right, he could hear her words, ready to haunt him forever. That was it. He lost her.

[langdvnshepherd]

Midnight City (Duncan Shepherd x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 1.7k

Anonymous asked: dad!duncan trying to put his newborn asleep but bub won’t stop crying no matter how hard their momma and dad try so duncan just puts baby and momma in the car and drives around the city for a bit until bub (and momma) falls asleep. baby stops crying and all you can hear is music playing softly, duncan looks at his wife and bub asleep and gets all mushy :))

A/N: I was just going to leave this under the ask, but I clearly got carried away. This made me so soft and if you couldn’t already tell I love dad!Duncan with my whole heart. Let me know what you think, and please send in more requests! I’m having so much fun working on them all.

Duncan didn’t want to. He really didn’t. He prided himself on being independent from her, especially after everything she’d put him through. However, right now, he was desperate. He’d do just about anything if it meant he could have just one moment of solitude in the prestigious, oversized, borderline mansion he had called home for the past few years. His fingers hovered over the ‘Send’ button on his cell phone, in denial at who he was about to call for advice, parenting advice at that.

“Hello? Hello? Mom?” Duncan yapped into the speaker, speaking a little louder than what Annette thought was necessary, but then again she hadn’t been exposed to the deafening, heartbreaking wails of her newborn granddaughter for two consecutive hours like you and Duncan had.

You laid in yours and Duncan’s bed, hopelessly rocking and swaying and patting your daughter’s fragile spine, but she wouldn’t let up. She’d been screaming like she was in pain for hours now, and both you and Duncan had tried everything in the book to soothe her, but her bawling persisted. You fought back frustrated tears of your own, feeling like shit over not being able to make your own daughter stop crying.

“Yea, we just changed her.”

“No, she doesn’t have a fever. We’ve been checking every twenty minutes”

“She ate right before she started crying. There’s no way she’s hungry.”

Duncan’s voice battled to be heard against your daughter’s as Annette ran him down her mental checklist of what could possibly be wrong with your sweet baby girl. He was pacing the room at the foot of the bed, anxiously running his fingers through the dirty blonde curls that currently laid flat against his head. He had been stressed out because of his workload plenty of times, but this was a new level of worry that consumed every nerve ending in his body. Not only was he beyond hysterical over the fact that he had yet to have one, solid second of silence, but each cry from his daughter that pierced through the walls of his bedroom was another stab wound to his gut. He was absolutely heartbroken that nothing he did could cease her sobbing. Although he knew he it was a bit dramatic to be jumping the gun like this, he felt like a failure of a father already.

“What? That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“It did?”

“Uh, okay. Guess it’s worth a shot.”

“I’ll let you know if it works.”

“Yeah, love you too.”

“Bye.”

Duncan turned to face you after he hung up with his mother.

“She said we should put her in the car. Drive her around a bit and see if she falls asleep,” he said while shrugging his shoulders and throwing his hands up in the air as if he already knew the idea was a bad one, but it was his last chance at getting any kind of sleep tonight.

“Why would that put her to sleep? you asked through a strained voice, rubbing your bloodshot eyes with your fingers, trying to stay sane.

“I have no idea. Annette said it worked with me when I was a baby, so...”

“Well, neither of us seem to have a better idea. Fuck it.”

You placed your howling daughter in the crib that rested beside your own, suddenly feeling like you were abandoning her and leaving her to wallow in her own despair even though you only sat her down so you could slide on your shoes and throw a sweatshirt on over the ratty t-shirt you hadn’t changed out of in two days.

Duncan raced downstairs to start the car, then raced back upstairs with the fancy, over-the-top baby carrier that you'd only used once before to take her home from the hospital. Whilst you were tying your hair up in the vanity mirror across from your bed, he picked her up from her crib and began bouncing her absentmindedly. He pressed tiny kisses to the side of her head in one final attempt to soothe her before he fastened her safely into the car seat that had to be adjusted in the hospital to accommodate her small size.

Her crying sounded even worse in the car. The confines of Duncan’s Audi, while sizeable compared to other vehicles, were much smaller than the four walls of your bedroom, meaning her shrills sounded three times as loud as it rattled through the leather interior, and through your last thread of sanity. Just before pulling out of your driveway, Duncan reached for your hand, his thumb automatically beginning to stroke yours the second they laced together. It was his silent way of reassuring both you and himself that everything was going to be okay. Even if that seemed like the furthest thing from the truth

“I hope to god this works,” he huffed before peeling out of the driveway and onto the busy streets of Washington DC.

And it did. Before you even left the gates of your private neighborhood, she had conked out. Her wails became simple cries, and her cries died down to blubbery whimpers. And then silence. The stream of tears that spilled for hours from her eyes that looked just like Duncan’s, but only one shade darker, had dried. Her tiny fists that had been tensed up from the continuous strain of discomfort had relaxed, they now rested folded up near her face, something you noticed she always did when she slept.

Duncan opted to keep driving. He’d barely been anywhere besides CVS at midnight since the baby was born, rushing out the door after you’d realized you were out of something for the baby or needed more coffee to keep you awake the next morning. And you’d been nowhere at all, too preoccupied with caring for your daughter to be granted the pleasure of seeing the city beyond the skyline that was visible from the balcony connected to your bedroom.

You navigated your way through the streets of downtown, watching the lights of each skyscraper whiz by as Duncan continued up the block. The two of you made small talk, referencing to the landmarks in the city that marked important milestones of your relationship with each other: the restaurant where you’d had your first date, the exact bench in the park where you’d meet for coffee on your lunch breaks at your old job, the street corner where you’d jumped out of Duncan’s car in a fit of rage, the start of the first but certainly not last rough patch in your relationship.

You even passed Duncan’s old apartment complex, where you’d argue was where your love blossomed. It was where you’d first kissed him, on the couch after too many glasses of wine. Where you’d first made love to each other, in the cool sheets of Duncan’s king-size bed that you swore to this day you’d never found anything as cozy. It was where you’d held Duncan for hours and hours when he called you over at 1am with the earth-shattering news that his mother wasn’t actually his mother. Where you’d first said “I love you” to each other after making up from a deafening argument you thought was the end.

The high-rise, steel building held a file folder full of memories of the two of you that was bursting at the seams, and a part of you often missed little things about it like the comfort of the leather sofa that you’d spent many nights cuddled into Duncan’s side on or crying into his shoulder or the small breakfast nook in his kitchen that overlooked the White House garden, but the house you moved into with Duncan after marrying him meant so much more. It was a symbol of all of the hard work that went into building up your relationship after years and years of testing its strength. It was where you’d grow old together. Where your daughter, and however many blue-eyed and curly-headed children you’d be blessed with in the future, would grow up. It was home.

You began to see why your daughter had dozed off so quickly. The consistent rattle of the car and the occasional sound of the city rocked you in a way, pulled you from consciousness and wrapped you lovingly in the arms of sleep. It had been weeks since you’d slept properly, but even with your head pressed against the uncomfortable car door that would definitely give you a crick in your neck, you’d never felt more at ease.

Duncan still held onto your hand as he drove, relishing the warmth that radiated from your palm and the burst of light that pierced through the windshield each time a street lamp cast its beams on the wedding band resting comfortably on your ring finger. He recalled the weeks it had taken him to pick it out. He swore to this day that the premature wrinkle he had on his forehead was caused by the very incident. Everything had to be perfect. The ring, the dinner, the dress, the monologue. And it was, despite knowing you’d be just as happy with him asking you over delivery pizza and a shitty horror movie. You deserved the best, because he was convinced no one in the world could or ever would love and take care of him the way you did.

As Duncan circled the roundabout that would lead you back to the house, he couldn’t help but feel another wave of relief. He’d been feeling them quite often in the past year. When you told him you were pregnant, when you’d fall asleep next to him with your soft, round belly pressing against his own, when he’d first held his daughter just seconds after you’d pushed her out, when he looked over your shoulder astonishingly as you breastfed for the first time.

It was all coming together now, despite spending his early twenties convinced he’d be a permanent bachelor, banished from having longterm, meaningful relationships and left to use one night stands and whiskey as a replacement. He had a successful business, his own house, a wife whom he loved with every fiber of his being, and now daughter that made his heart soar in places he never thought possible. Even when she screamed ceaselessly into the early hours of the morning.

This was his life now, and he couldn’t have asked for anything better.

//

Only taggin a few since this isn’t a /real/ one:

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme @wroteclassicaly @sojournmichael @venusxxlangdon @langdonshell @1-800-bitchcraft @hecohansen31 @readsalot73 @gold-dragon-slayer 

[yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy]

Crowe Week Day 1- Late Nights

I know, I know I’m very late, but in my defence I didn’t know croweweek was a thing and I didn’t find out until the second to the last day so I know I’m late in my submissions but better late than never. So without further adeu, here is my submission for Day 1 of Croweweek2019 for @crowedeservesbetter this takes place in my Magic and Miracles universe that’s a modern AU. And yes that is the black rose bathbomb by Lush that inspired this fic to begin with. 

Crowe Week- Day 1- Late nights. Magic and Miracles modern AU universe. Rating G. Pairing Crowe/Libertus. 

Crowe was usually always a night owl. It didn’t help that her baby, Raven, still in the womb was one too. Between midnight and 2 am was her ‘must be awake and do my exercises’ time and if Crowe didn’t fall asleep before that, she couldn’t fall asleep until Raven wore herself out and went to sleep herself at 3 am.

But the closer Crowe got to her due date- the more uncomfortable she became and the more the kicks which had sparked joy and giggles before now began to become uncomfortable because Raven was running out of room. Sylva had offered that the moment Crowe went into labor, to call and she would fly Crowe’s and Libertus’ family out who were back home on stand by.

In the meantime, Crowe had busied herself getting Raven’s nursery just the way she wanted it. Raven was going to be an unconventional baby in that the nursery was monochrome. Shades of white, gray and black. Not that Raven would never wear pink or purple or anything like that, but that was the aesthetic of the nursery is all. Crowe made sure all of Raven’s clothes were washed, folded and organized and packed and repacked her hospital bag and made sure that was ready to go as Libertus and Nyx were still taking classes at Culinary Institute of America in New York to become chefs while Lunafreya was in class at New York Medical Collage working on her doctorate nearby and Crowe already did all of her bartending classes during her pregnancy even though it sucked to go through school and not be able to actually partake in what you were making but she made due. So now that Crowe was certified and all that, all she needed to do was focus on Raven and just..waiting.

Sylva and Selena had sent a ‘mommy care package’ with bath bombs, face masks, special shampoos and conditioners and lotions and nail polish and just everything imaginable so Crowe could pamper herself while she waited for Raven to arrive. Libertus and herself had even gone through every parenting class at the hospital to make sure they were ready for this baby.

It was finally week number forty and Crowe was now due any day now. And once Crowe was finished with the last load of ‘baby laundry’ and was done with her and Libertus’ laundry, she decided to make herself a steak, smothered in sauteed mushrooms for lunch and ate it from the comfort of her bathtub as her favorite bath bomb, the black rose by Lush, dissolved and fizzed away in the water and once Crowe was done eating, she washed her face and put on a mud mask, also by Lush and simply relaxed in the hot water.

“Any time now, you can come out.” Crowe muttered to her daughter as she relaxed in the water. Crowe had lost her mucus plug already and Raven had shifted down and was already head down and seated in Crowe’s pelvis and all Crowe needed was to go into labor and for her water to break and she was hoping that Raven would come on her own and if not, Crowe had already made plans to be induced on Saturday and Crowe really did not want to be induced but she couldn’t risk Raven getting too big in the womb and having complications that way.

And then, as if on cue, Otis, Crowe and Libertus’ bulldog got up and stared at Crowe’s belly as if through the wall of the tub and barked and only a few seconds later- Crowe felt her first contraction as her eyes snapped open and she looked down. Because she was in the bath tub, the weightlessness of being in the water lessened the pain of the contraction as she put her hands on her belly and waited, for several long minutes, a few minutes turned to five minutes which turned to 10, 10 turned to fifteen and fifteen turned to twenty and just as Crowe was about to give up and think it was a fluke- Otis barked again and there was another one, and then she felt it, the gush of her water breaking as it gushed between her legs in the bath water and it made her gasp before she squealed in delight and quickly washed her face off in the water and kicked the drain with her pedicured toes to drain the tub as she reached for her phone to call Libertus as she pet Otis and cooed to him that he sensed that it was time for his ‘little sister’ to come.

“Hey, you’re daughter’s coming, the water just broke and I’m getting contractions.” Crowe informed her husband excitedly as she stood up and drained the tub before she had to crouch before she got on her knees when another contraction hit and as soon as all the black bathwater drained she rinsed the tub and refilled it again. The contractions were too far apart to head to hospital yet and she was going to relax and labor in the bathtub and sat back down before she remembered to call her moms and Sylva as well as Libertus’ parents to let them know the baby was on it’s way.

Fifteen minutes later Libertus burst into the house and started hollering for her, clearly already in a panic. “Crowe!” Libertus called out as he looked through the apartment.

“Up here!” Crowe answered before she snickered a laugh when she heard Libertus tromp up the stairs to see Crowe still in the tub, Otis, their bulldog sitting down next to the tub, standing guard over his mama as he had refused to leave her side through any of this.  

“What are you still doing in the tub?!” Libertus asked as he knelt down next to the tub.

“Because this shit is easier to do in the tub. These contractions hurt but they’re not close enough together to go to the hospital yet, they’re only 12 to 13 minutes apart.” Crowe explained. “Once they get like seven minutes apart, then I’ll get out and get dressed and we’ll go. But we’re ok, we don’t need to rush yet. I already called everyone, they need an hour or so to get ready to go to meet up and the flight will take an hour and a half, we have time.” Crowe explained calmly.

“Oh,” Libertus frowned. “Well what do you want to wear to the hospital, I can at least get that out for you.” Libertus said as he got up and kissed his wife before he went to the bedroom as Crowe directed him to pick what she wanted to wear- out for her.

“Lib! Lib! Lib!” Crowe called out as she got a contraction as he came rushing back in and Crowe reached out to get his hands to put them on her belly so he could feel the contractions which woke Raven up who kicked in retaliation to the contraction. Then Nyx and Lunafreya got home and Crowe put on a bra nursing bra so Nyx could come into the bathroom as Nyx and Luna were the first to offer their congratulations as Luna came in and insisted she braid Crowe’s hair while they waited for the contractions to speed up before she washed her hands and put on exam gloves and checked Crowe to see how dialated she was.

“Wow, Crowe, you’re at four centimeters already, you’re doing really good.” Lunafreya informed Crowe since the hot water helped relax all of Crowe’s muscles both inside and out as the water was starting to stain pink.  

Crowe caved and at 9 minutes apart, got out of the tub and had Libertus help her get dressed as they got their go bags and got in the car and Crowe couldn’t look out of the windshield as Libertus drove to the hospital because he suddenly seemed to drive like a mad man and Crowe didn’t want to get worked up and slow down the labor but she did hit him quite a bit and about half an hour after they got to the hospital, got checked in and were shone a room and Crowe got hooked up to monitors and in her hospital gown did everyone arrive from the airport.

Sylva and Luna slipped into doctor terms as they talked about the labor with Crowe’s doctors and nurses as Prompto took pictures of Crowe and Libertus and all their friends who gathered around to support Crowe, filling the room with flowers galore as Crowe’s mothers each got on a side of her as her little siblings hung out in the room.

Once everyone settled down and settled in and hotel rooms were booked and luggage was taken to said hotel rooms, it was a waiting game, all the girls surrounding Crowe to talk catch up as the guys kept Libertus entertained and talking on the other side of the room to let the girls talk and gossip as all the girls then revealed their ‘push presents’ aka bottles of wine and six packs of really good beer before Sylva revealed her own push present, a black diamond jewelry set that Crowe oohed at that Prompto captured on his camera.  

Crowe labored long into the night and right at 1am, she finally transitioned into her final stage of labor and kicked everyone out except for her moms and Libertus and the doctors and nurses and Prompto since he was the photographer as everyone else waited patiently and anxiously outside the room, huddled around the door as they listened closely. Crowe’s BFF Ada doing so the most as she held onto her own five month pregnant belly with Luche right behind her, anxiously rubbing her back because even he was anxious as this was for him a preview of what he’d be going through in just a few months himself.

And at 1:37am, Raven Grace Ostium was born and immediately let herself be known by belting out a very loud scream as everyone in the hallway burst into happy tears as Prompto’s camera was shooting as fast as it could to capture this moment as Libertus was practically sobbing because finally, FINALLY his daughter was there and she was perfect and the labor had gone well and Crowe didn’t have any complications which was all he had been praying for all night.

Within minutes, Raven was cleaned up and Crowe was cleaned up too as Raven was put to Crowe’s breast and got her first feeding as Libertus was still crying and holding and kissing his wife, praising her and marveling at his daughter and once Raven was done nursing, it was finally Libertus’ turn to hold her as he held her carefully but securely and still kept crying and vowing how he was going to be the best father ever and he was going to take care of her and love her and protect her always. Then he let Crowe’s mothers hold her before he let his own parents in so they could hold her and get their first pictures with her before Crowe was moved to her recovery room with Raven on her chest and that’s when everyone else got to see her for the first time and once in the recovery room, everyone else got their turns to hold her.

And then right around three everyone left to go rest for the night in their hotel which was just a few minutes away which left Crowe with Libertus at the hospital as a bed was brought for Libertus so he could sleep next to his wife and rest and recover as the two finally cracked open that beer, Crowe chuckling at fact that finally, after ten months, she got to share a beer with her husband before they went to sleep themselves. It had been a late night, but the best one yet.

[meghernandez]

What’s in my bag? - 2018 ed.

   I haven’t done this kind of post for a few years now. Although I did make 2 of these before, so I figured I might as well do one-- a med school edition! Hahaha, it’s funny to say that it is a different edition since the contents of my bag are mostly the same, although less than before since I used to carry my make up kit with me. I try to bring less nowadays, but I obviously failed since my bag is kinda heavy that I think it’s bag for my scoliosis. Because of this tendency of mine to carry a lot than I should, I buy bags that are small but sturdy. 

   I got mine at Mango, this is an old bag. My parents bought me a new one from Kate Spade although its kinda heavy and small to bring around but it has a lot of pockets which this bag don’t obviously have. Since it doesn’t have any pockets, I use 2 pouches for my things so that my bag won’t be such a huge mess. But most days, it is cluttered because of med school, I tend to forget A LOT of things, the moment I get home I’d take a nap and then study until 1AM and then wake up at 3/4AM to study again ‘til 7 o’ clock. It’s a crazy schedule, I know, that’s why as much as possible I get my stuff ready during the weekends.

    Here’s are the contents of my bag. It’s not much and it doesn’t look heavy but IT IS. I used to have a different tumbler but I forgot it in my dorm so I featured my new one which I just bought recently. 

JBL bluetooth headphones, E-series in black - I got this in my family’s exchange gift tradition. Super handy, especially now that my phone doesn’t have a separate dock for earphones. I usually walk from my dorm to my school for 5 minutes, and having these on kinda relieve my stress for the exam that I face everyday.  

Wet wipes - One thing that could identify my bag out of the others (aside from my wallet and ID) is that I always, ALWAYS brings wet wipes and alcohol with me. I’m a little bit of a clean-hands freak, and my friends know that, from highschool to graduate school. It became my trademark.

Tissue - I carry this around with me as you’ll never know when you’re going to need one, and my friends often need tissues as well, so I like to keep myself stocked up with tissues.

Reading glasses - it is not a secret here in my blog that I need my prescription glasses, and I really, really do need it. I can barely see anything from a far, and I hate it whenever I forget my glasses because I feel blind without them.

Elizabeth Arden 5th Avenue perfume - my perfumes are often heavy, I have another perfume that I also bring sometimes that it’s so heavy but trust me, if you’re going to study in FEU-NRMF you might as well have one since once you pass by the cafeteria, the smell would stick to you ALL DAY.

Pencil case from NBS - I lost a favorite pencil case of mine this year, and it bummed me out a lot since it has a lot of my favorite things-- my post-its, sticky notes, highlighters, and ballpens. It took me a while to move on and buy a new one, but when I finally did-- I realized that I think I might like this one better than my previous one!

Case for my cords

Armani Exchange wallet

Umbrella - I like this umbrella a lot. I bought this on Shopee last year and it still is in perfect condition. It is so sturdy and so cheap, such a bargain, right? I might have told this on my blog before that I hate using umbrellas but now I think I can’t leave the dorm without one, especially if it’s too hot.

ID - The moment I step on my dorm, I immediately put my ID in my bag since I’m sure I’m going to forget wearing it the next day. This have always been my case since I rush straight out of the door every morning.

Petroleum Jelly - I’m an avid user of petroleum jelly eversince I was in college. My lips are always dry and this is my holy grail. I think my lips are too sensitive to use lip balms with tints or fragrance which is why I opted to settle for petroleum jelly.

Klean Kanteen 800ml - Believe me, it took me a long time to choose a color for my water bottle. But I finally made up my mind and chose one that is versatile and I’d never get tired of. I wanted to buy the stainless one but something about the matte finish of this one really just caught my eye! What do you think? Anyway, I always carry a tumbler with me since I don’t want to waste my money on overpriced water that in my school, or anywhere for that matter.

   Here’s the case for my powerbank, earphones, cord, dorm key, usb, and lipstick. If it’s not yet obvious, I like to be prepared all the time, which is why I carry my powerbank with me whenever I go to school. 

    I recently just bought this case from Shopee, it’s kinda flimsy but it does the job and it looks cute right? My powerbank is from Sony, my lipstick is fro mEstee Lauder in shade Pure Envy.

   Last, and definitely not the least, my favorite among the items here is my pencil case which contains all the things that I love. My Sarasa ballpen in navy blue, Pilot Juice signpen in coral pink, M&G cool black pen. And my highlighters!

   This post is not entirely  complete though, I have an envelope for my study materials, but it’s in my dorm. And yes, I don’t use notebooks, I used to but it’s useless because transes can be used as a guidelines for the lecture, so that’s where I take down additional information for a certain topic. 

    It feels got to catch up on things that I’ve been doing before on my blog, I’m so glad I got back into blogging because this is what I truly love doing.

[lordsicheng]

Délicat: Pt. 1

Bae Jinyoung x OC

g: vampire au

s: never would you ever expect on meeting a vampire within a big city, and yet this does spark your curiosity on what holds the truth to their existence. Jinyoung is different from all the vampires you’ve heard and read about in fictional literature, whereas it reaches to a point where you believe that he may possibly be only a half-blood.

requested: nope

a/n: posting this in time for Jinyoung’s birthday! happy birthday my lovely prince ♥

It was already half past 12, and you finally finished your shift at the convenience store you worked at. This wasn’t new for you to get home pretty late especially during the weekends, since your coworker who gets to go after your shift always came either late or slightly having a slight stench of alcohol. Not that it bothered you, just that you wished he was a bit more considerate with you or even with his job.

That certain night, however, made you feel a little more irritated. He came to work much later since your shift usually ended past 11 or even at midnight. You wanted to leave at your usual time since you needed to clean up your apartment. You didn’t realize your were frowning on your way, almost losing sense of direction the moment you noticed you were in a park that led to a shortcut to your way. You always took the long way since you loved looking around the streets to your home: lively places like bars and clubs you passed filled with different kinds of people, often drunk, and the lights at the city at night in general.

“No choice.” you huffed, continuing to walk slowly to get home

For some reason, you actually felt the cold wind than usual. It was still spring, sure, but you always covered yourself comfortably. You sighed and looked to the side where you realized there was literally no one around. This kind of got you a bit of an adrenaline rush because you always heard about the dark stories that happened at night at the park. But you shook your head to get it off your mind and just continued to walk instead.

You could only look down as you walk, almost increasing your pace for every step you made. You heard a slight slap of wind that passed you and it made you turn to see a young man following you, eyes fixed to the ground as he could only look to the either sides instead of you.

“Excuse me, but are you following me?” you asked, sounding a bit scared

“No.” he replied firmly, putting his hands in his pocket as he looked down

“Don’t follow me.” you said as you slowly walked and took one look back before continuing

This didn’t stop your suspicion, though. You felt as if he had been following you for the past five minutes you’ve been inside the park. This kind of made you even irritated than earlier from work, but you brushed it off instead since you did slightly feel as if he was telling the truth.

“Ow!”

You turned to see what had happened and realized a branch fell on the young man. He was already over several meters away from you, but you felt bad and immediately ran to his aide to help him get back up and kick the branch away. The moment you walked over to him to grab his hand, it felt pretty much colder; even colder than the wind that night. You were skeptical, but you helped him either way as he looked kind of helpless in your eyes, but he was able to get up immediately and brush his clothes to fix it

“Are you okay? What happened?” you looked at him, but he only kept looking down and wasn’t sure enough to even look back at you

“T-the branch just fell all of the sudden…” he mumbled

“Well, this is a park…” you slightly shrugged, trying to look at him but he faced to the side out of either shyness or embarrassment

“But are you okay, though? Please be careful.” you told him in worry, and he just nodded

“I’m gonna go now. It’s getting late and you should get home too.” you turned, not looking back this time and slowly walked away

As you walked, you kind of felt bad that you had to leave him. It concerned you that he was pretty startled by the branch that fell on him, but you wondered why he didn’t get any injuries at all. You tilted your head in curiosity as you walked, looking up to see it was about to rain as well. Turning your head, you noticed the young man still standing and looking down, facing the other side as he looked a bit grimmer than earlier. This made you worry a bit, so you decided to walk over to him and grab his hand just in time the rain started to fall, forcing him to run with you towards a shade that was nearby.

You stood next to him under the shade that was pretty sturdy, looking up to see if he was even confused or surprised that you grabbed his hand again out of nowhere—but he wasn’t. He just continued to look down, this time blinking almost rapidly. You were beginning to get confused again with him so you decided to just try to speak to him

“Uhh, do you live nearby?” you asked, tilting your head a bit to look at his face properly

“Mhmm.” he nodded in reply

“I’m sorry for grabbing your hand out of nowhere. It started to rain and you looked like you weren’t gonna walk away anytime soon.” you snickered, trying to not make things awkward

But he was still quiet, maybe a bit too shy to speak. You looked at him and noticed he had a bit of a face that showed he was probably younger than you. You thought he was most likely a high school student, maybe rebelling or some sort since he was also near the most crowded and party-filled streets in the city. You pursed your lips and nodded at this thought, which led you to wanting to get to know this young man who was right next to you

“What’s your name by the way?”

“Jinyoung…” he replied, to which you just nodded

“I’m y/n.”

He didn’t reply, at all. So you thought he was a little bit too shy to speak to you anyways. Silence ensued right after between you two as the rain was still pouring, but not strong as earlier. This kind of gave a vibe of a very awkward atmosphere, so you just decided to stop the uncomfortable air between you two

“Are you somehow rebelling?” you asked, crossing your arms to which he widened his eyes and looked at you in much surprise

“How did you know?” he looked at you with shock written all over his face and you just gave off a smile

“You kind of look like you would. At least to me. You also have this aura in you that I kind of feel.” you looked at him from top to bottom, which made him a little nervous the moment you slowly walked around him to get a better look

“W-what are you doing…?” Jinyoung asked, sounding obviously nervous

“Just checking something to make sure I’m correct.” you said as you stopped and looked at him again

“Why? Do you think I’m… different from people you see around?” he gulped, looking back at you in anxiousness

“Definitely different.” you smirked, slightly chuckling

“Please don’t be afraid of me…” Jinyoung stuttered a bit and tried to look away but your suspicion just kept growing and he felt it himself

“Why would I be afraid?” you furrowed your brows in question

“B-because I’m a-“

“High school student?” you raised your brow, laughing

This kind of got him taken aback, only able to blink his eyes and his mouth slightly opened from your words

“Well?” you tilted your head to try to make him admit that you were correct

“You need to go home.” he said firmly in reply

“And leave a very delicate young boy behind to be alone under the rain?“ you replied almost in retort

“I mean, it’s late.” he tried to make an excuse, but you didn’t really buy it

“Unless you tell me the truth on why you’re here at like, what, past 1am.” you checked your watch and looked at him again, raising a brow and crossing your arms

“Fine.” he sighed, and suddenly the rain stopped as he did and this kind of confused you

“The rain just stopped the moment you sighed…” you frowned from looking to the side and then back to Jinyoung

“It’s just coincidence.” he replied with no particular expression at all, face looking a little bit more grim the more he looked at you

“Okay now you’re just angry with me.” you shook your head and turned your back, arms still crossed

“I’m not angry with you. I’m trying to tell you the truth.” Jinyoung blinked a couple of times as he spoke, starting to get irritated as well

“I just met you, Jinyoung.” you turned to look at him with the same level of irritation written all over your face

“I’m a vampire.” he said directly, looking into your eyes deeply to try to get you to believe him

“Sure you are.” you gave a nod, mocking him

“I’m serious.” Jinyoung said without hesitation again

But you felt as if he was telling the truth from even being with him: cold hands, clothes all of a dark hue, slightly gaped mouth that showed his fangs just as you examined him, and the aura of almost a very different person from the one you helped from earlier. The moment you looked back to his eyes , you felt your body shiver in almost fear and suddenly fainted, blacking out. Jinyoung widened his eyes in shock and worry, grabbing your shoulders just in time for you to fall. He tried to shake you to wake up, but you definitely were knocked out unconscious

“Oh no, please…” Jinyoung mumbled in worry

At the same time, another person suddenly arrived and looked at both you and Jinyoung as Jinyoung tried to wake you up from your shock. He was only able to shake his head and cross his arms while looking at Jinyoung, who looked very helpless.

“She’ll wake up in the morning. She seems tired.” the other person suddenly said, and Jinyoung turned his head to see it was his friend

“Daehwi, I swear I didn’t do anything to her.” Jinyoung said frantically, looking at you again as he tried to put you on the bench

“I saw from afar. Do you know where she lives?” Daehwi sighed as he walked over to Jinyoung who was this time, holding you while on the bench

“No.” he said in a straight face

“Bummer. Looks like we’re gonna have to leave her alone here.” Daehwi didn’t even hesitate on saying this, and Jinyoung frowned in reply

“No, Dae.”

“Jinyoung.”

They both ended up staring at each other with frowns on each faces, getting a little bit irritated by each other because of Jinyoung’s indecisiveness and Daehwi’s spitefulness.

“Fine. We’re taking her home.” Daehwi grumbled

“What? Our house?” Jinyoung widened his eyes, looking at you and then to Daehwi

“Well you’re the one who doesn’t wanna leave her here! You don’t even know where she lives!” Daehwi made a point, to which Jinyoung just took a deep breath after a while and nodded

“Fine. We don’t really have a choice, anyways.”

[nickywires]

who wants to read about my horrible/stressful/painful/but also good 36+ hours between friday and saturday 

completed my last day at my work placement! the team even got me a card and present which i wasn’t expecting after 2 weeks! but i really enjoyed myself 

5.30pm ran to the tube and got to wembley after about half an hour

feeling extremely ill and sweaty at this point, my cold was getting worse

found some other fans i knew, ended up getting a spot in the crowd several rows back from the front which i was pleased with considering i arrived after doors opened

felt very strange and wrong to not have queued all day 

the gig itself was incredible, of course they are nearly always brilliant but they really surpassed all expectations i had of the night

i thought i was seeing things when nicky came out in a skirt and sang the sex pistols!! i screamed so loud everyone around me in the crowd turned to look at me lmao

did get a bit spoiled by drunken idiots who started smoking in the arena, which of course made panic a bit when i saw smoke rising from the person in front of me, i was not happy at all

and security were really aggressive, they kept pulling people out for no reason?! they tried to take me when i was standing still stone cold sober! and not the smokers!!!! there was no way in hell they could get me to leave though

got back home in london about 11.30, had a shower and dried my hair, got to bed at about 1am

woke up at 3.30am because i was so nervous about missing my alarm! so that’s a grand total of 90 MINUTES SLEEP 

made it to the train station at 5.45am, check the departures board, the train on my ticket didn’t even exist because of ‘planned engineering works’

absolutely furious and extremely anxious because i’d bought a ticket for a train that wasn’t even happening, i got the tube to the outskirts of london

from there i got a horrible rail replacement bus to maidenhead (i don’t even know exactly where that is) (it was still 7am in the morning at this point)

from maidenhead i got the train to reading

from reading i got the train to swindon

and from swindon i got the train to cardiff, arriving at 9.30am

so instead of 1 train, i ended up getting FIVE

hurriedly rush to the queue, where there was only 6 people and i knew all of them haha so there was literally no need for me to have been so worried 

queue all day in the burning sun and very little shade but with nice company which made it fun, I enjoyed it

get really bad sunburn on my arms 

doors open 6.30pm. run inside, expecting to be one of the first in there - the barrier is full already

turns out they let in the other door to the arena before ours, and also people who were having dinner in the venue restaurant got in first?! so all my queueing and stressing was pointless lmao 

get extremely upset and wobbly because of this - probably combination of exhaustion/sunstroke/having a head cold

end up getting pushed back to around the third row by even more annoying people who didn’t even queue

manage to find some friends and stayed with them which made me a lot happier

gig is excellent for the most part

MOTOWN JUNK FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE I WAS 21

Also loved the return of masses and stay beautiful, no surface all feeling just gets better every time and i love hold me like a heaven 

HOWEVER about halfway through, horrible awful drunk middle-aged people start pushing because they want to reach the front

physical and verbal abuse towards me and those around me - kicking, punching, shoving 

embarrassing childish behaviour by adults old enough to be my parents

i try to be kind always but this was really testing me

lose all of my friends in the crowd because of these interlopers

i have been to enough gigs and i realise people like to jump around, but upsetting other people and being violent is too far

try my very best to watch and enjoy the show but find it very hard when everything around me is so horrible and they are spoiling the show for so many

find friends after the show ends, burst into tears because of Everything and cry for a while

pull myself together and go back to friend’s house to sleep and eat which was much better 

got ONE SINGULAR TRAIN HOME from cardiff to london yesterday, although it was 4 hours long and i was struggling to breathe because my nose was so blocked and i had no food or drink

all in the space of about 36 hours! I’m glad I went (Nicky’s solo turn was a personal highlight and I got to spend time with people I haven’t seen in ages) but also why did I do that

[lindoig1]

Heaven - or almost!   Day 10.

We ate fiery beef noodles at a place opposite our hotel for breakfast. Not quite sure whether the hotel doesn’t do breakfast or whether what they provide is not suitable for westerners, but they gave us a voucher for beef noodles as I said - if we wanted anything else, we had to pay for it ourselves as well as try to explain to the cook what we wanted. Everyone who came into the cafe seemed to get the same order, but the cafe threw in a somewhat strange, but perfectly fine, boiled egg each for us. We have noticed that many places have a lot of eggs floating in some sort of hot stock and the look of them turned me off a bit, but they tasted fine even if we got eggs that had been in the soup for a week - how would anyone know?

Then it was off to the mountains to the Heavenly Lake near God’s Mountain (Mt Bogda).  It was well over an hour’s drive to where we had to go through security and buy our tickets. Oops, they don’t take tickets from foreigners so we had to get checked out at the Police Station and after 15 minutes or so, we were suitably accredited and cleared to rejoin the queue to go through security again. You then walk across a courtyard and go through security again. I wonder what they could have missed the first time that we could have acquired in the 50 metre walk across the razor-wire enclosure that warranted the second examination? Chinese people seem highly regimented and simply cop whatever ridiculous bureaucratic procedures are applied. They all line up neatly until the door is opened and then the queue collapses and it is all push and shove to be first inside. They wedge themselves between us and surreptitiously edge forward or sidle around and between you and then try the same manoeuvre with whoever is next in line. Only problem is that 500 others are trying to pull exactly the same stunt on them. I have to say that the security nonsense is getting to me. You have to show your passport or ID card 10 times a day and everything has to go through the X-ray machine even if nobody is there to monitor it - even to get into our own hotel lobby. You get patted down with greater or lesser intrusion/excitement at least a couple of times a day and I have observed that as westerners, we get a lot more scrutiny than the locals.

We are now in the CORRECT station waiting 4 hours for our train. At the first X-ray station, they confiscated Heather’s dry hair shampoo, at the second X-ray station 50 metres later, they confiscated our plastic fruit knife and hair cutting scissors. They made us open all our bags and did a thorough job on Heather’s, but when my bags were all open at their insistence, they didn’t even lift the lid, just waved me through. But they were VERY interested in my binoculars.  They mimed a lot of birdwatching moves until I understood that I had to get them out of my backpack. They turned them over, shook them, peered through both ends, examined them again from every angle and eventually handed them back with true eastern inscrutability and a flick of the hand to send me on my way.

Anyway, back to the Heavenly Lake. We all lined up in our thousands and progressively boarded a cavalcade of hundreds of buses to be driven 10-15 kilometres where we all had to get out and walk/climb close to a kilometre through a slightly tacky ‘traditional village’ lined with stalls selling mostly non-traditional souvenirs, food and other wares. This path led us to a larger enclosed buying opportunity with some similar items as well as plenty of others, all at upmarket prices. We escaped with our money belt intact and finished our walk to where we lined up dutifully so a different fleet of buses could take us the remaining 30-40 km up the mountain to the lake. Interesting that we alighted the first bus maybe 15 metres from where we boarded the second one, but a sturdy fence and a plethora of police and security guards prevented anyone taking a short cut to miss the tourist trap. Despite it all, the walk wasn’t too bad and the hawkers not too aggressive although Heather was struggling a bit with the stairs in what turned out to be quite a hot day.

The lake was suitable heavenly - very beautiful set in very steep towering hills against the broad background of a regiment of snowy peaks to the north. The water was glacial (there are 2 glaciers in the part of the range we could see) and deep emerald - also just deep, 100 metres at its deepest with an average depth of 60 metres. We paid a small fee and joined a boatload of local tourists for a half-hour spin around the lake. (We haven’t seen a single westerner for at least 4 days.) It was a pleasant enough trip, but no commentary, even from our guide who we have marked down heavily on a number of counts.

Our guide recommended that we go to his friend’s place further up the mountain for lunch because the food near the lake was tourist food and very poor. A little apprehensively, we agreed and Rachid collected us in his car and drove us up to his village - a collection of yurts. It was quite nice up there in the forest, quiet and with fewer people than we have seen outside our hotel rooms since arriving. We selected a few items and he and his wife cooked them for us. Nothing special, but quite nice, more than we could eat and a little on the expensive side, but we are tourists after all. Rachid and his wife were very courteous, Kazakhs but living in China for 40 years.  Rachid (at least) spoke excellent English and Heather had quite a yarn with him while I looked unsuccessfully for birds - saw hundreds of black-eared kites, very like our black kites, but only a single rook apart from them.

After lunch, we returned to the lake and I had a short walk along the boardwalk while Heather rested in the blazing sun, then it was into the bus that took us all the way to the bottom without providing any further buying opportunities. En route to find our driver, we discovered a geological museum in the entrance hall near the bus station and spent an interesting half hour or so finding out a bit about how the mountains and lake were formed. There was a lot to see and read and at least one more floor that we never explored so had we known and planned things better, we could happily have spent a couple of hours in the area.

This probably all sounds a bit flippant but it was a really nice day. The mountains are truly spectacular. Steep and rugged, rocky and riddled with jagged aretes slicing the slopes in all directions, strata running at all angles, a hundred shades of green, but with heavily scarred areas of slippage - truly dramatic, quite breathtaking, absolutely beautiful. There were horses, cattle, sheep and goats in numerous places along the roadside, some of the most colourful stock I have seen. The sheep, in particular, came in black, greys, browns, white, creamy-yellow, a range of fawns and beiges and red, really red, at least Hereford red. Many sported a combination of 2, 3 or 4 colours.  I have never seen sheep like that before and the horses and cattle were almost as colourful. There was a small river and a couple of minor creeks rushing the snowmelt to lower pastures, and the trees and grass were a mix of dazzling greens and the shady glades looked very inviting in the heat. To add to the natural beauty, there were quaint pagodas perched high at the very precipices of some mountains, a scattering of yurts here and there, and a couple of temples near the lake. All very interesting and picturesque. It was an entrancing day in the country even if the administrative hassles were frustrating and really quite ludicrous.

There was a fair bit of debate on the way back to town about what to do next. Our guide said it was too early to go to the station and suggested we go to a water park, but we were both pooped and didn’t want to do any more walking or climbing any more steps. We also got the feeling that the driver didn’t want to extend too much and the guide said we should give him an extra 100RMB for his time. We weren’t worried about the money, but just wanted to sit down with a cold drink for a while so we finally settled on a bar and we shouted them both a drink.

We sat and talked a strange mixture of language, signing and interpretation and when we were sufficiently recovered, it was off to the station. Another long walk to get to the entrance and then the multiple passport checking, X-rays and security hassles got into full swing. An hour or so later, we were inside the ginormous waiting room with 4 hours to go and huge crowds occupying almost every seat. Interesting that half of them left on the next train and the rest left on the following one and we got very lonely all alone in the mammoth waiting room. Another young couple came in just before our train was starting to board and the four of us set off with our baggage to climb two sets of at least 100 steps each up to the platform. The other couple were young and strong, but ended up as whacked as we were by the time we finally made it to the top. More hassles about our tickets and passports, but it was finally sorted and the train got under way about half an hour later than intended. Not sure if that was just because of us, but soon after we got our papers back, the train headed out into the night.

It is now 1am and I am going to sleep. More drama are possible ahead at the border - a process scheduled to take more than 8 hours!!!

[toomanyfeelings5]

happy, part 6

new part of this fic! link to part 5, which links to the other parts. 

this bit features a lot of me channeling crazy ex-girlfriend: rosy and lydgate basically burst into “we’ll never have problems again (love yay)!” and rosy’s entire mindset with every relationship she’s ever had with a man can be summed up with in one indescribable instant, which you should all listen to and think about compulsory heterosexuality and unrealistic relationship expectations and lowkey laugh/tear up with me while you listen. 

full disclosure: i’ve never read a sarah dessen novel, and i’m sure her books are well-written and wonderful. the quotes i take from this lullaby (which, according to rosy’s tumblr, has been her favorite book since she was like, twelve, no i’m not a weirdo stalker) are necessarily out of context. i’m by no means hating on the book or its depiction of romance: it’s really about how rosy interprets the book???

also rosy is maybe kind of sort of starting to sort her shit out.

11. thomas lydgate is handsome, intelligent, driven, and overconfident in a way that’s admirable instead of distasteful. he’s a man who knows what he wants. he wears polo shirts and button-downs and khaki pants and expensive shoes, and, according to him, only owns one sweatshirt. he’s also an adorable nerd who watches grey’s anatomy despite its “deeply inaccurate representation of actual medical procedures and treatment,” who is so passionate and so excited and so sure about becoming a doctor that rosy forgets sometimes that he isn’t already in med school.

fred says that he’s arrogant, max says that he talks over him, and jaime doesn’t seem to like him much either. rosy doesn’t ignore these criticisms--they all know him better than she does, for now anyway. but she’s been watching cinderella on repeat for the past week, and she’s re-read sarah dessen’s this lullaby at least three times in the past four days, and she keeps waking up with “so this is love,” stuck in her head, and she writes quotes from the book into her planner when she has the time, so the most important parts of her days ends up looking like this: 

12. “i had a feeling that something big was going to happen. to both of us. that we were, in fact, meant to be together.” 

rosgate is the perfect name for their relationship, and rosy smiles wide at the camera, just like she’s practiced. 

“this is a great love story in the making,” she says, pushing thoughts of fred and max’s tenuous romance and fred’s barely-concealed broken heart to the side. he’s being so smug about her and lydgate anyway, and the viewers want more content about rosgate, surely. 

she repeats that phrase in her head-- “this is a great love story in the making,”-- long after she’s stopped filming.

she stares into the camera, imagines that it’s her brother, and announces, “my standards aren’t that high, fred. it just takes a really extraordinary guy to live up to them. and i think i found one.” 

rosy wills herself not to think of chelsea beatrice’s worn, stained, covered-in-patches leather jacket, and more than that, she wills herself to believe her own words.

above all of his other excellent, marriageable qualities, thomas lydgate has more than enough certainty for the both of them, and that’s more than enough for rosy to fall in love with him. 

13. “love is so unpredictable. that's what makes it so great.” 

rosy doesn’t look over fred’s footage often, but she’s stuck reviewing the bit of film her and fred recorded before they send it to dot, so she catches him telling the viewers that “this is a big heterosexual disaster.” 

rosy doesn’t talk to him for hours afterwards. 

later, she constructs arguments with imaginary-fred in her head: what does fred know about successful relationships anyway? what does fred know about love that rosy doesn’t? why does she care--?

“it’s really better than what i could have imagined,” she tells the viewers a few weeks later, and smiles with every ounce of smug bashfulness that she can manage. she’s the one who’s going to get a happily ever after, thank you very much. 

14. “everything, in the end, comes down to timing.”

sure, thomas is a bit of a flake, but he’s a pre-med student! of course he’s busy all of the time, of course he has a lot on his mind, of course he forgets little things like texting her and telling her that he can’t make it to the dinner at the best restaurant in town, that he can’t spend time with her. that doesn’t make this a disaster, fred. it makes rosgate a real developing relationship. 

the funny thing is that a part of rosy is more disappointed about washing her makeup off more than anything else. rosy elects to ignore that particular part of herself, and eats a box of chocolate she’s saved for occasions such as these. she pops a white chocolate heart into her mouth, forgets how long it had taken her to apply the perfect shade of eyeshadow, and thinks of nothing but lydgate and her unanswered texts and phone calls. there. all gone. 

15. “i am coming to terms with the fact that loving someone requires a leap of faith, and that a soft landing is never guaranteed.”

the thing is--

the thing is that sometimes--

“rosamund?”

rosy hates destiny, on occasion. it brought her and thomas together, but it also shoves chelsea beatrice back into her life, an inconvenient obstacle on the way towards her romcom ending with thomas. 

“rosamund? is that you?”

rosy bites her lip, and drags her eyes upwards, away from her newly-painted pink nails and to chelsea’s baffled face. rosy takes a tiny breath. she had forgotten how dark chelsea’s eyes are, the collection of freckles near her right eye, the tiny dragon tattoo on the side of her neck. 

of all the places in the library, and chelsea had to pick the table across from hers to study at? 

“yes,” rosy mutters, the word ghosting out of her lips. “it’s me.” she adds, “i’m rosy now.”

“oh. ok then.”

rosy is expecting chelsea to, if not yell, then at least hiss indignantly about rosy’s hasty move out of their dorm, about rosy cutting off all contact, about--

“are you ok?”

chelsea’s voice is even and measured: it’s not a roommate’s voice, or a friend’s voice. it’s a stranger’s voice, noticing something vaguely amiss.

rosy swallows the lump in her throat. her face burns, and her eyes sting. of all the things she could have expected, this hurts the most. “i’m fine.”

chelsea squints at her slightly, like when rosy would pre-game too hard and insist on wobbling to a party anyway. “are you sure?”

rosy closes her eyes, thinks, she is just an obstacle, opens her eyes, and smiles right at chelsea. “would you mind going somewhere else to study? i really need quiet today, i’ve got two big exams coming up and a presentation to prepare for.”

chelsea opens her mouth, then closes it, then grabs her bag and her laptop case. she leaves without another word. 

rosy wonders, for a moment, in the silence, what chelsea had wanted to say to her. she opens her textbook and begins to read.

an hour of studying later, thomas texts her: wanna come film for dot’s documentary? i have a surprise for you :) and rosy appreciates how thomas never uses the winky face emoji, and she replies yes, be there soon! xo right away: surely she’s studied enough. 

when she gets to her shared room, thomas is holding the camera.

“i thought i could film you for once,” he declares, grinning that almost-smug, hopeful smile of his.

all of the anticipation whooshes out of her as she sits on her bed. rosy manages a little laugh. “i’m not sure if i--”

“come on, it’ll be fun!” 

he presses record, and rosy makes herself smile. “thomas, i don’t--”

“look how beautiful you are!” he laughs, all loose and casual. “they’ll all see you like i do.”

rosy should feel elated at this, rosy should blush and stammer out a thank you, but she hears chelsea ask, “are you ok?” and rosy bursts out, “i don’t--! this is too close! i don’t like being filmed.” 

eventually, thomas stops recording.

“i just don’t get it,” he tells her, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on her bed. he’s too close, but rosy doesn’t tell him that: she can’t drive him away, of course. “why do you keep saying you don’t like being filmed but then make videos for dot?”

“it’s--” rosy bites her lip. “it’s different, that’s all.” she leans into him. he’s solid and strong and still too close. “can we go get lunch?”

the camera is hers (and sometimes fred’s). she uses it. she controls it. she doesn’t--rosy makes sure to squeeze thomas’s hand as they walk to lunch--she doesn’t want to be filmed in that way, in the way that thomas looks at her. 

a traitorous thought keeps rosy up all night. her phone flashes the time: 1am, then 2:32am, then 3:45am, then 4:13am, then 5:57am. she keeps humming “so this is love” to herself. she tries to breathe evenly. 

the thought doesn’t go away. the thought keeps repeating: maybe she doesn’t want to be seen that way at all.

16. “you know, when it works, love is pretty amazing. it's not overrated. there's a reason for all those songs.” 

rosy and thomas are finally, officially together. he kisses her, and it’s the same as every other boy she’s been with. 

while the camera is still on, she beams, and for a moment she feels so happy she could burst.

she stops recording and presses the power button.

the same sinking feeling slowly settles into her chest.

she feels a rush of...something. it’s not really butterflies. it’s not adrenaline either. 

maybe it’s fear. 

rosy nearly laughs: maybe she’s terrified.

17. “i can say I made a lot of mistakes, but i don't regret things. because at least i didn't spend a life standing outside, wondering what living would be like.” 

fred goes on and on about how her and thomas are so heterosexual he could die, how they’re the straightest couple he’s ever known. 

an hour before celia’s party, he whines, “when will i get a boyfriend?”

rosy checks her lip gloss in the mirror. “maybe if you actually asked max instead of just assuming he’d show up--”

“it is homophobic that you have a date to the party and i don’t,” fred declares, flopping backwards onto his nest of pillows, ending the discussion.

it’s just a joke. fred says stuff like this all the time. rosy should laugh, or feel smug, but instead she is angry.

her knuckles whiten. “shut up, fred.”

his voice is muffled from all of his pillows. “c’mon, you know it’s true--”

“fuck you.”

rosy is dressed and ready to meet thomas at celia’s. her lip gloss is flawles. she leaves without looking back. 

the party is fun. everyone is so fun. rosy wants to be fun, but she’s still angry, everything buzzing loud in her head, so she drinks more than she’d planned to. she drinks and drinks and and drinks and feels fun. 

she doesn’t tell anyone else this, but drawing her number on billie’s arm was the best part of a shitty night. even when rosy sobers up the next day, she almost wants billie to call her. no. not almost. rosy blinks in the too-bright light. she wants billie to call her. not in a true-love way, not in a pining crush way, but still. rosy wants billie to call her. she allows herself to realize this, and then thomas starts talking to her with the camera on. 

18. “love can make up for a lot.” 

“i know what is and isn’t healthy for you.”

thomas wants her to give up drinking, and that angry feeling squeezes rosy’s chest again, so she goes out drinking the next night, with dana and sharon and jackie and all of her other friends. it’s the weekend. she can do her work later. she can respond to thomas’s texts later.

the next morning, rosy hears thomas talking. he’s sitting in her room talking...to the camera? she tries to go back to sleep, to ignore the uneasiness and irritation and--ugh, that was one too many tequilas--but then she catches thomas saying, “i’m beginning to feel really powerless here,” and rosy cannot believe it. did he really say that? is she still drunk? she almost wants to laugh, if she wasn’t so tired and hungover. she doesn’t catch his next sentence, but she does hear, “she was so mild when we met,” and, “i don’t know what happened,” so rosy interrupts him.

she wants to say, “i don’t know what happened either, but i’m starting to figure it out why it’s been happening.” she doesn’t say any of that. thomas tells her to go back to sleep, so she does.

rosy wakes up later, drinks water, manages to sit up after a while, and tries not to worry too much.