#stopped at my local tea place on a whim on the way back and the first two things I tried to order

[liesonthefloordramatically]

Can we erase our history? Is it as easy as this? Maybe in other realities The road never took this twist And I can close the door on us But the room still exists

[sxvxrxssnape]

minerva mcgonagall’s personal mission to make severus love christmas part 5

aka snolidays/snapemas day 11 and 12 (hot chocolate, baking) // pre-PS/the years between. minerva and severus friendship // content warning: panic attack and mentions of lily potter. i feel like this should be considered a snapetober entry oops. word count: 4287  @blog4snape

The night ended with more hot chocolate as the five stood together and watched a choreography of lights move above the pond, creating elves loading a sack full of gifts onto the outline of a waiting sleigh, watched it become glowing reindeer pulling it off the ground, rising in height and getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared and the light show began again. 

It felt like magic and he refused to believe none was involved. 

He fell asleep fully clothed that night, contentment and milk chocolate running through his veins as he begrudgingly made another mark on the imaginary scorecard. 

Minerva was definitely winning.

Saturday was spent finishing the potions for the infirmary, bottling and stoppering the dozens of phials, and methodically scrubbing the cauldrons clean as he read from a book hovering above the wash basin, the pages turning with a flick of his head. 

He dropped the potions off at the hospital wing, secretly pleased that Poppy was far too busy with a floo call to a student’s parents to bother giving him more than a thankful nod and a wave of her hand. He didn’t mind their conversations, but when three students were laid up sick on starched cots, Severus preferred to be as far away from the infestation as possible. 

He spent the night reading, a cup of tea in hand, the soft glow of candlelight nearby to illuminate the words of one of the books he had picked up from Diagon Alley. 

Sunday morning found him sprawled out on the couch in his living quarters, fully dressed once again, with the candles snuffed and the book astray, the teacup still nestled between a cushion and his thigh. 

He spent the day holed up in his office with a correcting quill, the stack of essays he kept putting off, and no less than four packets of crisps. It was dinnertime by the time he finished reading all the scrolls of parchment, his fingers cramping and eyes bleary. He had the beginning of a headache forming, but the grading was nearly caught up on. 

The remainder were short-answer questions, at least.

He wasn’t sure he could sit through another stack of eighteen inch essays for at least another month.

Perhaps two. 

The crisps had made him nauseous, so rather than attending dinner in the Great Hall, he flooed into the staff lounge and helped himself to his precious french press that had been left behind. As the coffee grounds soaked, he glanced around the room and took in the stockings.

There were some new additions.

There were his and Minerva’s - white, cable-knitted with fur trim, bearing their names embroidered in black thread - but also a bright blue with Filius�� initials, a pastel-pink made from crushed velvet with Pomona’s name spelled out in tiny yellow flowers, a black with silver snowflakes bearing Aurora’s family crest, and a neon orange war crime that could only belong to the headmaster. 

All of them had candy canes peeking out. 

There was a tree in the corner now - a tall, proud-looking noble fir - looking like an oversized houseplant when it was devoid of lights and decorations. He finished making his coffee and sat down at the round table, eyeing it carefully.

The rest of the castle was still surprisingly devoid of holiday decorations, but if this tree had already arrived, it was only a matter of time before the rest of it started creeping in. Soon enough, the place would look like a tinsel factory had exploded inside of it and the number of trees within the castle walls would put the Forbidden Forest to shame. 

He scowled at the thought. 

Later, he realized he had spoken too soon. 

Monday morning brought a fresh shower of snowflakes, a drop in temperature, and about thirty-six douglas firs into the Great Hall. These were already decked out with lights, ribbon, and colorful baubles. Some of the trees had clearly chosen sides, cheerily standing tall with the weight of red and gold ornaments, while others were laden with green and silver, blue and bronze, or gold and black. 

Garland clung to the old brick, neatly tied with red ribbon and perfect pinecones, spaced out above the portraits and high, arched windows. 

He didn’t want to think about the rest of the castle. 

There was white chocolate peppermint tea waiting for him at the staff table, so he conceded that not everything that morning was absolutely terrible. 

Tuesday was a bad potions day.

Not for him as a brewer, of course, but as a professor. 

By the time both his classes ended, eight different cauldrons had either melted, exploded, or absolutely disintegrated without a trace. He lost a full jar of moonstones because one student had decided to bring the entire fucking container to her table rather than count them out beforehand like he had advised, and it had taken all his self-control to stop himself from breaking down right in front of the class of sixth years. 

He had collected those moonstones himself, wandering the Forbidden Forest all fucking night, with only a lantern to light the way. They were supposed to last him at least another two months before he would need to venture out again - and the last time he had gone out, he’d nearly sprained his ankle on an upturned root and gotten a tree branch to the fucking face. 

Tuesday evening found him four drinks in, asking the house elves to please bring him some hot, salty chips from a local shop, and when the darling little elf returned with the newspaper cone, he babbled stupidly for two solid minutes from gratitude alone. 

Wednesday was a headache, a blur of back-to-back classes, a lot of frustrated yelling at completely inept students, a full pot of that wonderful white chocolate peppermint tea, and a sudden decision to not assign any more homework for the rest of the year.

Not because the awful little slimeballs deserved a break, but because he did. 

The elves made mushroom and wild rice soup for dinner, alongside everything else they always made, and Severus took more comfort than usual in the hot meal. 

Wednesday night was his turn to patrol the castle, so he stayed up half the night wandering the empty corridors. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself as he entered the Astronomy Tower, groaning as he realized Aurora was still there, carefully packing away her supplies post-lesson. 

“Oh, don’t act like you aren’t glad to see me.”

“Believe me when I say I’m not.” Severus returned, stepping to the edge and looking over the grounds. Most of it was cloaked by shadows, but the silver light from the moon was still enough to softly make out the silhouettes of the greenhouses and Hagrid’s little hut. “What, no comment on how I’m out past my bedtime?”

Aurora laughed, putting a bronze telescope back into its case and fiddling with the straps. “Not this time, no.” She glanced up at him and warned: “But don’t you ever make me miss out on family dinner again or you will regret it.” 

Thursday morning he slept in. 

He barely had enough time to pull on his teaching robes and run fingers through his hair before he had to hightail it to his classroom, frazzled and out of breath. He hadn’t had time to prepare the chalkboard the day before, and was quickly writing out the recipe in his messy scrawl, when the seventh years started filtering in.

“Alright, you’re going to need number three pewter cauldrons today,” he called out over his shoulder, finishing the last line of script. “Fill them with two liters of room temperature water and put your burners on low. Today we’re going to be brewing a more complex -”

“Professor?” 

He scowled at the interruption. “What is it, Mr. Greenwood.” 

“I think your robe might be inside out.”

He blinked and tried not to let his face flush with embarrassment. “Thank you, now as I was saying -” he continued awkwardly, shrugging out of his robe and flipping the sleeves inside out. 

“Your shirt buttons are fucked up too.” 

“Language!” he scolded, swallowing down the sharp coil of emotion building at the back of his throat. “And do not speak to me like that.”

“Hey, you’re the one walking in here, unprepared, with your clothes all fucked.” Greenwood muttered. “Just what were you up to before class, sir?” he grinned, his comment eliciting a few chuckles.

“Detention, Greenwood.”

“Now, wait a second!” the boy faltered.

“Do you wish to make it two?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave as he raised an eyebrow in questioning contempt. “Because we can surely arrange that.”

“No, sir.”

“Good.”

He finished the lesson on autopilot, quickly fixing the buttons on his shirt in the supply closet, fingers shaking nervously as he muttered angrily to himself. He shrugged back into his robes, double-checking they weren’t inside out again, and downed a calming draught on a whim - the shiny light blue bottle catching his eye from its place on the shelf - before returning to his desk. 

He made sure to scowl at each of them in turn and surprisingly enough, not another student made an unwarranted comment about his appearance, his teaching, or even each other. It kept him from reaching for another calming draught when he felt its effects lifting. 

Friday found him having a panic attack.

Then again, if no one opened the door to the broom closet he had squandered in, if no one came face-to-face with his crouched down, fingers tangled in his hair, not-quite-yet-out-of-breath, full body trembling self, could anyone really prove he was having an anxiety attack?

He’d barely made it through his second class and had dismissed the second years twenty minutes early, sans homework - and oh, Merlin, they were going to think he'd gone soft - before attempting to return to his personal quarters.

It didn’t quite work out as planned. 

His knees had felt shaky and he’d felt as if something were gripping at his throat, pressing down on his lungs, and he had to sit down and ground himself before he had a full-on breakdown in the middle of the corridor. He’d found himself stumbling, as he hid behind the closest doorway, the tidal wave of unchecked emotions too much.

His resolve was breaking.

He tried to focus on his Occlumency shields, tried to push back the unfiltered pain and fear he refused to think about - could not think about - because if he did, he was afraid he would never be able to function again. He was afraid he would break.

The dam was already broken though and now, now the rest of it felt inevitable. 

Now he was simply gasping for breath, tears welling in his eyes that he refused to let fall, sitting on the floor of a dusty broom closet, bathed in the dull yellow light that flared whenever it sensed movement, like some sort of spotlight - a beacon honing in on him, existing solely to put his downfall on display. 

Far too many thoughts were flitting around his head, crashing into each other and making it difficult to tell them apart, to pinpoint just what had been the trigger, the reason behind his weakness - because surely, that’s what this was right now: weakness.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor and he tried his best to muffle his ragged gasps, hand curled into a fist and pressed into his mouth, teeth sinking into the pale flesh, threatening to break through from the force he was using, so desperate he was to not make a sound. 

It didn’t work.

The footsteps paused, their owner faltering. 

Voices were speaking from the other side, hushed and mumbled, and with another stroke of panic, Severus realized they belonged to more than one. Students, most likely, and he curled tighter into himself, vehemently wishing for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

“Are you okay?” a hesitant voice traveled through the aged wood. 

He didn’t answer, but he figured his breaths were answer enough.

“Are you having a panic attack?” a different voice called out, sounding just as unsure as the first. “It sounds like you’re really struggling.”

“Do you need help?”

“They probably can’t answer, dummy.” a third voice spoke up, but this one wasn’t addressing him. They were all familiar, but his brain wasn’t letting him process anything to fruition. “Hey, if you can hear us knock on the door.”

He considered ignoring them, but in the end he knocked.

“Good!” the first voice praised. “Alright, knock if we were right about the panic attack.”

Again, he knocked. 

“Do you want help?” the second student asked. “I’ve helped my share of students through these.” He suddenly recognized Casper Jenkin’s voice, one of his seventh year Slytherin prefects. 

He groaned; as if this situation could get any worse. 

“I’m gonna take that as a no.” Oliver Greenwood’s voice muttered, so apparently yes, it could get worse. He was stumbled upon by his own snakes - and his disrespecting seventh years, at that. 

“Do you want us to get someone?” Allison Bone, the original speaker, questioned. “Madam Pomfrey or your Head of House? If you’re all the way down here, you’re probably a Slytherin, huh?”

He choked out a laugh at that. 

“Laughing!” Bone approved. “Laughing is good! That means you’re getting control of your breathing. The worst part of it is over now.” 

“I’m going to open the door, okay?” Jenkin told him, and the doorknob started turning. “It’s probably pretty cramped in there - definitely won’t help.”

“Don’t!” he let out, just as the door opened and he found himself blinking up at his snakes, the three of them blinking down at him, equally dumbfounded, and he wanted to scream at whatever joke of a higher being had shifted the cards enough to lead him here. 

“Oh!”

“Professor Snape?!”

He lifted a shaky hand to his face, brushing back disheveled locks of hair. “Get out.” he whispered, low and angry, not caring about the semantics that it technically didn’t apply. 

“Are you sure you don’t need -” Bone started, then faltered at the growing expression on his face. “Right, we’re leaving.” 

Greenwood eyed him a second longer than his companions, but rather than the teasing glint he usually held whenever addressing him in class, he wore something softer. “Sorry.” he mouthed, genuine concern flickering for a brief moment before he also left. 

He put his head in his hands and started laughing, softly at first, but when it became an ugly sob, he fought to regain his composure, nails digging into his scalp. 

He managed a deep breath, wiped his face on the sleeve of his robe, and hurried to his personal quarters. He was moving on autopilot now, slipping out of his teaching robes and into a jumper, grabbing a bit of floo powder and calling out a quiet, “may I come through?” when the flames turned a brilliant green. 

He stepped into Minerva’s quarters, bypassing her concerned look and collapsed onto the old couch, pointedly ignoring her as he stared at the vaulted ceiling. 

“Severus?”

“Panic attack.” he mumbled.

He remained silent after that, listening to the rustling of parchment and paper, the soft scribbling of a quill nib making its way across the page. For a few minutes, that was the only sound, until suddenly Minerva stood up and opened up the floo. Hushed voices followed, then silence, and he finally sat up when he heard the distinct pop of a house elf apparating into the room. 

Dorset, one of the school elves most identifiable by his height, was balancing a tray on one hand and a heavy-looking box on the other. He placed both on the kitchen table, nodded at the two, and apparated away.

“What’s this?” Severus asked, his voice gravelly and tired, as he stood up and approached the table. 

The box was filled with an assortment of items - butter, eggs, icing sugar, flour, and the like. He could see a bag full of dirigible plums sitting right on top and he smiled despite himself. The tray was holding two ceramic mugs, their contents hidden by the mountain of whipped cream and cinnamon they were topped with. 

“Sit down with me.” Minerva said simply, picking up the tray and bringing it to the couch. She sat down at one end, placing the cups on the coffee table, and waited. When he sat down, facing her, she handed him a warm mug. “I asked for hot chocolate.” she told him, eyeing him carefully. “Specifically the gingerbread one we had last week.”

“I liked that one.” Severus mumbled, staring down at his cup.

“I know.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, sipping on their hot chocolate, and Severus could feel his anxiety slowly ebb away as it was replaced by warm comfort. 

“You look awful.” she finally spoke up.

He smiled ruefully, but it felt more like a grimace. “I appreciate the honesty.”

“Have you noticed, how every time you experience feelings of distress, someone always tends to interrupt before we can talk?” she asked, watching him. “I think we’ve been putting it off long enough, don’t you think?”

“No.”

“We never got to talk about Yaxley.”

“We didn’t need to.”

“We also never finished our conversation about how you ask for my company whenever you venture out of the castle.”

Severus gripped his mug tightly. “You said enough.”

“You still flinch when people touch you.”

“Can you blame me?”

Minerva paused, studying him in a way that left him feeling exposed. “They’re all connected.”

He kept silent.

Her next words were unexpected. “What about Lily?”

“What about her?” he growled out, anger taking hold and manifesting into shaking hands. He swallowed down the bile he could feel rising, the taste of milk and chocolate suddenly acrid on his tongue.

“You never talk about her.”

“That’s because I don’t have anything to say about her!” Severus finally yelled, nearly dropping his mug. He set it on the coffee table and balled his hands into fists, refusing to break eye contact with the professor before him. “Lily died four years ago, but she stopped being my friend long before that! Do you want to talk about the guilt I carry, knowing it was my fault she died? Because no amount of talking, nothing I do will ever be enough to make up for the fact that I killed my best friend! And I hate myself for that, but Merlin, do I hate her too.”

“Do you?”

“Yes!” he burst out, the words he could never dare himself to say aloud now slipping off his tongue without trouble. “She was my best friend and then she sided with them, with him, after what he did to me! And that’s when I knew she was never really my friend! She saw what he - what he did,” he was starting to gasp for air again, “and she still, she - he -” 

He focused on steadying his breathing, arms wrapped around his torso. 

“I don’t.” Severus finally amended, in such a soft voice he wasn’t sure it even carried. “I want to hate her so much - and I am so angry at her, angrier than I’ve ever been at anyone - but I don’t hate her. I can’t. Maybe I wasn’t her friend, in the end, but I know she was mine. I lost so many people in the war, but she’s the one who hurts the most, so no, I don’t want to talk about Lily.”

Minerva hummed. “You sort of already did.”

He scowled.

“Drink your hot chocolate before it gets cold.”

Some of his anger fizzled out as he finished the drink. When they were done, Minerva stood up and started pulling out the contents of the box, lining them up on the counter. He joined her, watching as she leafed through a cookbook he hadn’t noticed. 

“We’re going to do some holiday baking now.”

“Are we?”

“If you’re not going to talk to me about what led to all this,” she gestured in his general direction, “then we’re going to bake some things for the staff party tomorrow.”

He nodded, sighing. “Where do you want me?”

They spent a few minutes in stilted silence, as he washed the bag of dirigible plums and cooked them down into a sauce, stirring in ground cardamom and honey. Meanwhile, Minerva whisked double cream and cornstarch with vanilla sugar and salt, the pot resting over low flames. He added the plum sauce and smiled as it came together and turned into the warm orange color he remembered. 

“What next?” he inquired, after the thickened mix had been poured into a mold and tucked away in the cold cupboard. 

“Biscuits?”

The sugar dough came together easily enough, pale yellow and perfectly smooth, and as they sprinkled flour over the table to roll it out, Severus started fiddling with the holiday cutters. 

“I can hear you thinking.” Minerva spoke up a few minutes later, dusting her hands off on a clean towel. She reached for a tree-shaped cutter and started pressing it into the dough. “Are you ready to talk now?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Sure you don’t.”

They finished cutting out all their shapes, moved their biscuits into the oven, and cleaned off the kitchen table. Minerva was opening small jars of sprinkles while Severus whisked together icing sugar and egg whites. He focused on dividing the royal icing into small bowls, adding droplets of colored dye and stirring carefully as if they were a temperamental potion, when he finally broached the earlier subject: “They are all connected.”

“Pardon?”

He didn’t look up, merely repeated himself. “They’re all connected.”

Minerva pulled the baking tray out of the oven and cast a cooling charm before bringing the perfectly baked biscuits to the table. Severus picked one up and absentmindedly broke it into pieces. He shared it with Min and picked up another biscuit, carefully dipping this one into the bowl of red icing and shaking off the excess. 

He reached for the star sprinkles. “I try not to think about any of it.”

“You’ll have to, eventually.”

He thought about the broom closet. “I know.”

Minerva dipped a star biscuit into the bowl of yellow icing and handed it over to Severus, who immediately covered it with three different colors of sprinkles. They worked in tandem for a few minutes, dipping and sprinkling all their biscuits, and eventually a spoon was introduced to their project and Severus found himself drizzling thin stripes across some of them.

“I’m giving this one a Dreadful.” Minerva decided, picking up what was supposed to be an ornament, originally dipped in white icing, but then covered with uneven globs of blue. 

“Fair enough.” Severus shrugged, levitating the dirty dishes and moving them to the wash basin, spelling the water on. He picked up a candy cane-shape that had been rolled in yellow and violet sprinkles and then drizzled with green. “This one, however, is deserving of a Troll.”

Minerva spelled the dishes to wash themselves and then raised an eyebrow at him. “Severus, you decorated that one.”

“I’m aware.”

The yule log cake was a little more time consuming to make. He sat down at the table and watched Minerva separate eggs and whisk the whites with sugar until it foamed.

“It would be faster if you spelled the whisk.” Severus offered.

“We tried that once.” Minerva laughed, not slowing down. “It worked great at first, but all of a sudden, the whisk was flinging meringue all over the room.”

“How delightful.”

Meringue was light and shiny and the brightest white he could imagine. Min filled a piping bag with the foam and showed him how to pipe little mushroom tops on the baking paper. When he took the bag from her, he was surprised to find it bore no weight.

“Do you not know how to hold a piping bag?”

“Evidently not.” he grumbled, looking at his hand and the fluff of meringue that had spilled out of the bag and over his hand. 

“You’re supposed to hold the end closed, you numpty.”

“Numpty?” Severus muttered under his breath.

“Elphinstone always did the same thing.” Minerva shook her head, fixing the bag and finishing the job. “No matter how many times I corrected him, that man couldn’t hold it right. Always went off about how he’s the ministry liaison for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Min, I don’t need piping meringue mushrooms in my skill set.” She took in a shaky breath and set down the bag. “See? Perfect.”

“Min-”

“Don’t just stand there, Severus.” she scolded, thrusting the cookbook in his hands. “Get to work measuring the dry ingredients. You can make the cake while I make the frostings.” 

He started sifting flour and cocoa powder. “It’s okay to miss him, you know.”

“Of course I know that.” she humphed, putting the tray in the oven and spelling the dishes clean. She unwrapped a stick of butter and stared at him. “Do you know that?”

“Minerva, I only met your husband twice.” he deadpanned.

She flicked a bit of icing sugar at him. “Don’t be smart with me. I’m not the one repressing all my emotions and pretending they don’t exist until I can’t stave off the impending panic attack and end up crashing in my colleague's quarters because of it.” 

“Fine, you win this one.” he muttered. “You are the pinnacle of mental health, professor.” 

“Excellent.” Minerva grinned, but her smile seemed a little bitter. “Does this mean you’re going to talk to me now?”

“No.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Numpty.” she repeated. 

---- a/n: i was in the mood for angst tm also the ending feels a little rushed but it is 3am rip. im not gonna finish this series by christmas but my goal is new years. time exists in a vacuum anyway and is not real. ps. let me know what you think pls!! it gives me all the seratonin

[upthenorthmountain]

Heartwood - Chapter 2

Chapter 1

I need to make a fic page, will try and do that today, but do I want to draw a picture? Hmm

Anyway here’s chapter two!

Chapter 2

No one noticed when Anna got home, and no one noticed that she didn’t eat any dinner. She went up to her bare, sterile room and she lay on the bed, looking at the ceiling. If anyone came in they would only see my head and my hair, she thought, all in white as I am, on these white sheets. She looked down at herself and pulled her hands up into her sleeves. If I were to die right now then they would just have to carry me out, straighten the counterpane, and everything in the world would keep going the same as it always has. They’d have to tell Elsa, of course, otherwise she might not realise I wasn’t here any more.

A year. One more summer, one more autumn, one more winter, then maybe a slice of spring. And that was all.

She wondered what would happen when she told Elsa.

She’d drag her back to the doctor, that’s what would happen. She’d ask a thousand questions, and she’d insist on that referral, and they’d go to the city; and there would be so many doctors, and so many more white rooms like this one. Anna would be poked and prodded and half her blood would be run through machines; and they’d cut her open and poke around in there as well, and post her into MRI machines and goodness knew what. A year to live, and that’s how she’d spend it.

Maybe...maybe she didn’t have to tell Elsa straight away.

Maybe she didn’t have to tell her at all.

Anna slept very little that night. By the time the sun finally rose, the sunrise filling the white room with some colour for once, she’d made up her mind. On the stroke of 9am, she rang the doctor’s office, and said she’d like to cancel her appointment for next week, please. No, she didn’t want to reschedule. Yes, she’d call back if she changed her mind. Thank you.

And then she went out. It seemed like a good day to buy a red dress.

-----

The dress was perfect. It was a rich, deep, cranberry red; it was fitted at the top with a skirt that swirled beautifully; it showed a little more cleavage than Anna was used to, but still fairly respectable - other people she knew showed a lot more, certainly. None of her shoes went with it, of course. It needed sparkly shoes. Fortunately, the shop sold those too, and a matching necklace.

Anna’s daring didn’t quite extend to wearing the dress at home. She quailed a little at Elsa seeing it, and wasn’t sure she wouldn’t end up changing, and then when she got home the dress - and shoes, and necklace - would have disappeared. But she had a charity tea this afternoon, and her outfit was perfectly appropriate. Elsa wouldn’t be there, and no one else would think anything of it.

She changed quickly in the Ladies in the reception of the hotel, and on a whim, brushed her hair down too. Her hair waved naturally, and usually had to be pulled back to keep it neat - but today she didn’t feel like looking neat. She pinned a little of it back from her face and peered at herself in the mirror. She hadn’t brought any make-up, and her freckles were showing something awful - but nothing she could do about it now.

The tea was taking place in the main ballroom. Anna gave her ticket to the staff member at the door, took a deep breath, and went in.

-----

She did get a few odd glances. She suspected a few acquaintances didn’t recognise her immediately. Anna took a drink and said a few hellos, then she stood to one side and looked around.

It suddenly struck her how pointless this all was. No one wants to be here, she thought. They’d all rather be at home or on the golf course or conducting their tedious extra-marital affairs, but it’s for charity so here they are. Imagine how much better the charity would do if they all just donated the same amount but no one had to book the room or buy the drink or arrange for the tiny food. Anna snagged what she suspected was some kind of deconstructed cucumber sandwich from a tray. It was actually quite good. If this is an afternoon tea, though, surely there should be cake?

She took another miniscule sandwich and wandered over to the staff member who seemed to be overseeing the waiting staff. “Excuse me,” she asked him, “Is there any cake?”

“Cake?”

“Mm. It’s not a criticism, I was just wondering. These are very good, by the way.”

“Thank you. There will be a selection of fancy cakes and meringues served after the speech from the charity representative.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” Anna paused. Did she want to listen to a speech? Was that really how she wanted to spend her hours on Earth, that were apparently very precious?

“D’you think I could get a cake to go?” she said. “I have to leave now. Medical reasons.”

The man hesitated, then he shrugged and disappeared towards the kitchen. Anna surveyed the room again - there was no one here she actually, actively wanted to talk to - and thought about what she could do instead. She could go anywhere. The thought was thrilling but also a little terrifying.

She remembered meeting Mrs Davies yesterday. Mrs Davies - Lillian - had been her Science teacher, back when she had gone to the local secondary school (her father hadn’t really approved of private education, he thought it gave the wrong mindset. Her sister did approve of it, or maybe she just approved of paying money to make Anna someone else’s problem, so she’d done her A-levels at a boarding school where she’d known no one and no one wanted to be friends with the girl who cried all the time). Mrs Davies - Lillian - had been an excellent teacher, friendly and enthusiastic and full of a passion for Science and nature. Anna was not at all surprised to find her spending her retirement engaging in a little light environmental protest. She’d also been Anna’s Girl Guide leader, and taken her camping a couple of times when she was twelve or thirteen. Oh, she’d love to see her again, and have a proper chat.

She knew exactly where Bennett’s Field was. She remembered, when she was a little girl, walking down there with her father. The footpath ran down the side of the field, and then skirted the edge of the woods. You had to stay on the footpath as far as the old oak tree, because the land on either side belonged to someone else, but the corner of the field and a small patch of the woods belonged to her father.

The memory stopped her short. Yes. It belonged to him. At some point when the farmland had been chopped up and parts of it sold, a small amount of the field and a corner of the woods had been bundled in with some other land her father had bought to develop. She thought so, anyway. She couldn’t see how it would have been sold, unless the developers of the field had bought it - there was no reason anyone would have told Anna about that.

She ducked out of the room and leant against the corridor wall. Imagine if it was still theirs - she would gladly, happily let the protestors stay on their corner of the field, make whatever observations they needed to in their corner of the woods. How did she find out? 

Anna knew where her lawyer’s office was. She’d heard her parents’ wills being read there, and she’d been there on a handful of other occasions since she came of age, to sign odd documents and make her own will at Elsa’s insistence. It was only four’o’clock. She ran down outside and found a taxi.

-----

Mr Owens was very obliging, and agreed to see her, despite the short notice. Anna suspected he might have some sympathies with the bats; very soon the pair of them were looking at the map, and Anna was thrilled to see that she was correct.

“I think someone used to live there, many years ago,” Mr Owens said. “Although there’s no building there now, and you’d never get planning permission - the only access is along the public footpath, no utilities. So it’s not worth anything.”

“I don’t want to live there,” Anna said, though she did, a little. “But I could camp there if I wanted, couldn’t I?”

“Yes, of course.”

“With some friends, maybe.”

“If you liked. Of course, if the wood does become a Site of Special Scientific Interest, that would affect you, too.”

“That would be alright.” Anna traced the outline of the little patch of land on the map. “And if they build on the rest of the field?”

“Then they might give you access, but maybe not. They tried to buy this land, as you know,” he said.

“I didn’t, no.”

“Your sister didn’t tell you? They weren’t willing to pay what she was asking. To be quite honest, I advised her to take whatever she could get, they were the only people who might have given you anything for it. Like I said, it’s worthless.”

“Unless you’re a bat,” Anna said absently. Had Elsa been being greedy, or had she just not wanted to sell?

“Well, I suppose that’s true.”

“Can I have a copy of this map, please?”

“You can take that one, if you like. Was there anything else?”

“No, that was all. Thank you so much for seeing me.”

“No problem at all, Miss Rendell. I’m glad I could help.”

-----

“I might go away for a few days,” Anna announced over breakfast the next morning.

Elsa looked up from her paper. “Really?” she said. 

“Mmhm.”

“To where? With whom?”

“Um, you know I used to be in Guides? My old Guide leader invited me to go camping with her and some friends.” Anna buttered her toast without looking up. “I’ll have to get some camping things but there’s that shop on the retail park, isn’t there? I’ll run over there this morning.”

“Camping?” Elsa looked horrified. “Why would you want to do that?”

Anna shrugged. “Felt like it. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Elsa pulled a face. “I don’t think you’ll enjoy that at all, Anna. Camping! In a tent?”

“If I remember right, that’s how it goes.” Anna looked up. “If I don’t like it, I’ll come back. It’s not far.”

“How long for?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have my phone.”

“And where will you charge it?”

“I’ll get a solar charger.”

“And where exactly are you going?”

“Um. Bennett’s Field.”

Elsa dropped her paper. “Not that - Anna! You know they’re squatting illegally. That’s not camping, it’s a protest. What will you do if the police get involved?”

“Mm. But, if they moved over a bit to the north - and I was there - it wouldn’t be illegal, as such, would it.”

Elsa was quiet for a while, watching her sister’s face. Then she said, “I didn’t know you knew about that land.”

“Dad told me.  A long time ago.”

“You don’t have to actually stay with them. You could just give them permission, if that’s what you want. And stay here.”

“I think I’d like to go, thanks.”

Elsa looked at her again, for a long moment, then she picked up her newspaper. “As you wish.”

Anna took a big bite of her toast. That had been easier than she expected.

[khaoticallykat]

◇The Prince and The Punk◇

Paring: College AU!Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: You and Ransom never seen eye to eye, during one class in high school you let him know how you really feel and from there it was pranks and bullying all on you. Until you finally went to college, forgetting all about Ransom until you happen to encounter him again, this time at his grandfather's, the famous novelist, Harlan Thrombey. With a research paper that needs to be done to make the grade, are you gonna put up with Ransom's shit?

Warnings: language, bullying.

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: omgggg this is my first time actually formatting a story for Tumblr and I just hope y'all like it. There's gonna be smut but that's wayyy later and maybe in a mini chapter. Thanks for reading 💖

Chapter 1. The Writing Writer

~Flashback~

You drummed your finger along the desk, pissed off and annoyed as you watch Ransom Drysdale, yes, him. The richest kid in school and the biggest piece of shit you've ever laid your eyes on. He was actually an alright guy, for the most part, but you you see beyond his pretty blonde hair, blue eyes and fake smile. He was made to look like an angel, one of those sculptures you see in Italy. He was flirting with your friend as all three of you sat at a table in science class, he has a girlfriend but almost every girl he flirted with, including you, but you harshly turned that off. 

"Aw come on Lexi, you're so smart, just help me out?" He blinked his ocean blue eyes at her, she giggled and smiled, about to slide her paper over to him until you grabbed her hand.

"Lexi, don't you think Ransom should have been paying attention to the lesson rather than making goo goo eyes at you?" You asked, gritting your teeth.

"Aw Y/n, I can help him out, it's no big deal." She smiled, you loved her, you really did but even she was falling into the spell of Ransom.

"Yeah Y/n. She doesn't mind, but yet," he looked over at you, it sparked more a hatred in you, "yet you, seem to really mind me? What is it? You like me don't you? Want me all to yourself?" 

You sighed, giving him a deadpan expression, "I rather eat razors and then shit them out, you're shitty and annoying and a fake." His smile dropped, Lexi covered her mouth, either in shock or to stifle a laugh. "You act like you're such a king here, having everyone bend to your whim but who are you really? You're a trust fund playboy and I really hope you don't breed, we already have enough shitheads like you in the world."

Everyone in the room was looking at you, clearly you weren't aware of your tone, even the teacher looked shocked.

But Ransom, deep down he should have hated you, but instead, he laughed. He laughed so loud and hard that his was was beet red and tears came down. 

"Wow," he chuckled, catching his breath, "fuck you." 

From then senior year was filled with Ransom knocking books out of your hand, spilling various liquids on you, thankfully it was tea, water or coffee, he even went as far as cling wrapping your car before homecoming started. You paid him no mind though, you were really good at that, ignoring him and going on about your day, your mom always said that children act out when they want attention and that was one thing you would never give him.  He noticed just how much you really didn't care for him, it made him angry, he spent almost every day finding something to inconvenience you and you just brushed him off like dust. 

He cornered you in a back room in the photo lab one day after school, you were cleaning up and helping out when the Jock pushed you in a closet, closing the door behind him. 

"Oh great. My favorite person." You rolled your eyes, "get out of my way, I have stuff to do."

"You're not going anywhere," He growled, he smelled of sweat and dirt, he must have came from training. "You and I need to talk."

You sighed, shifting in the tight space that Ransom took up, "well I'm listening, but hurry up you stink." 

"You're really good at ignoring me, just wondering how and why?"

"You mean how haven't I giving in to your antics? Because you're a child, you act like one and I don't pay attention to boys that act like children," You heard him punch the wall next to you, "just let it go Hugh, sometimes you can't get all the girls to suck you off." 

You smirked and ducked under his arm, opening the closet door to see Ransom's two friends, Sam and James sitting on the desk across from the closet. They made eye contact with and quickly looked away, it was clear that they were uncomfortable with the situation. You packed your bag and left, leaving Ransom in the closet to deal with the fact that you just called him by his first name. 

"You alright in there man? What'd she do, spit on ya?" James called from the desk.

Sam got up and dragged him out, "come on, don't let some chick ruin the rest of your senior year, after this, we got college girls to look at."

"You're right," Ransom laughed, "I can't fucking wait." 

~Present~

After high school, you never saw Ransom, he was basically out of sight, out of mind. College was rolling around and you picked your major of psychology, you were lucky that the town had a college and it was easy to get into. You spent your first few months taking the classes required and studying, your teacher reminded you that the final paper was due months from now, to write a report on a literary author of the time. They assigned everyone an author, when your name came up, you got the author, Harlan Thrombey. The last name rung a bell in your head, but you couldn't tell why. Leaving class you notice many people were in the college colors. Right, football season. You saw some sororities gathered in the parking lot cheering, you didn't want to be part of any of them. You were almost to your car when you remembered why the last name Thrombey sounded so familiar. 

Ransom Drysdale was on the back of a pickup cheering and laughing with other guys in their football jerseys, he soon forgot about you after high school. But through his dark, gold rim glasses, he saw you, the same as ever, he was really shocked to see that you even stayed in town, you were really smart, not that he would admit it. Stepping off the back of the pick up, he made his way towards you, you were walking at a fast pace, trying to get to your car before he could catch up and torment you. Ransom saw you get in your little grey Volkswagen and slam the door, locking it behind you. The engine stalled a few times before it finally came to life. Ransom was just getting to your car when you quickly pulled out, almost hitting him. You paid no attention to the speed until you reached the first green light off campus. Taking a deep breath, you looked in your rear view and chuckled, it was childish, but you were glad to get away.

Thankfully it was Friday and you wouldn't see him until Monday, throwing your bag on the floor, you sat at your desk fuming. If all places, why does Ransom Drysdale have to be in the same college as you? You opened your laptop and began looking up Harlan Thrombey, he thankfully had an email, writing out who you were, the nature of your email and a few other things, you clicked the 'send' button and waited. 

Later that evening while you were reading, your phone pinged, showing you that there was an email from Harlan. He wrote back that he would be glad to have you over to study his work for your research paper and asked if you could come over Saturday. Doing a small dance of happiness in your room, you replied that you'll be there at noon. 

The next morning you wore something that would look rather business casual, most of your clothing was on the darker side so it was easier to match items and stopped in town at the local donut shop before heading to Harlan's. Pulling up you saw a white BMW, the kind that was vintage, it probably ran better than your car double checking your bag once more for your notebook, tablet and charger, you locked your car and walked up to the brick manor. The place was absolutely gorgeous as you took a moment to wonder what the inside would look like. Suddenly two blurs came running up to you barking and sniffing, one was a black lab and the other a German shepherd. They both sat down and looked at the box of donuts you were carrying. 

"Sorry, I didn't get anything for you," you frowned, slowly backing towards the steps, "maybe next time." 

You rung the doorbell and waited, the dogs followed you and waited by you patiently with their tails wagging. A young woman opened the door, she looked about your age with dark brown hair and bright eyes, "you must be y/n," she smiled, the dogs rushing in almost knocking her over, "Harlan told me you were coming, I'm his nurse, Marta." She lead you into the house which wasn't bare in any area, there were decorations on covering the walls, either with paintings, books, it some strange artifacts. You followed her to the library where you saw Harlan, all grey hair but eyes were full of life. 

"Ah, you must be Y/n," he said, turning his attention away from a man that sat in a chair, facing away from you, "I was just talking to my grandson about you, how he should be doing his homework but instead, he's talking of football and girls." 

"It's nice to meet you mr. Thrombey," you smiled, walking over to him, "I brought donuts." 

The man in the chair stood up, "I know that voice," he turned around, same damn smirk on his face like it was permanent, "ah, of course it's you, my favorite person."

God damned Ransom Drysdale.

You looked like a deer in head lights, "what the hell are you doing here?" You asked, taking a step back.

"Visiting my grandpa?" He said, "bring those donuts over here, I'm starving." 

You thought it was a sick joke, but you can see it, the tiny resemblance between Ransom and Harlan. But here you are, trapped in a house with you high school bully. He made his way over to you and opened the box, he was still the same, no respect for personal space. 

"I saw you yesterday, but you left," he took one of the chocolate covered ones, "me and you got a lot of catching up to do." 

[celestialholz]

You know how Q mentioned Picarad to Janeway and Sisko. I headcanon he also does this to various others he meets from time to time. There are entire civilzations that have figured out that they can get their God of Chaos to stop tormenting them by indulging and ecouraging his rants about Picard until he forgets why is there in the first place.

*laughs for five straight minutes* Brilliant. Take this mad thing with my pleasure! ^_^

The myths of Zenda VII have long since spoken of the ultimate threat; the malevolent deity, murmured in the dead of night’s campfire tales, the unwilling witnesses of stars and firelight alone only emphasising the terror scattered through generations of their people.

“They’ll come in broad daylight,” the grandmother whispers to her rapt charges around the flaming pit, tone solemn, eyes as round and wide as the third moon. “Chaos incarnate, wiles absolute, the Ultimate One; elaborately clothed, no need for the cover of midnight; torment shall reign for cycles on end, and when they eventually recede… all of our souls will have been reaped, harvested to appease the whims of the grand sky gods. We shall be shells alone.”

It’s a tale as old as time, always recited with identical reverence, a fear befitting of the inevitable but nevertheless terrifying, children left to scatter, bawling, back to their huts, the grimace of the elders and the chief all the remains beside the fire to see them all off into uneasy dreams.

There have been counterarguments occasionally, heated mutterings among the people at village meetings; “They’ll have mercy, surely? We’re just farmers, living off the land - peaceful, loving!”

The only response is a grim silence, and it settles deep in the heart of their every chief through the centuries, the thought that perhaps, one day, they’ll have to be the one to bear the brunt of such horror.

… It’s curious then, the day they do show up; it’s exactly as the legend states, after all, exuberant robes and all, appearance immediately threatening by the diamond of pure brilliance that accompanies it. They’re in the village square, glancing round, humanoid features creased with bemusement at the screaming, fleeing community around them.

“Oh gods, Shazem, it’s them!” Comes the petrified hiss of the chief’s life-mate, an unassuming and terrified female.

“I… yes,” the chief replies, and though terror fills every inch of her soul, she stares unblinkingly outwards from her grand hut’s window, natural flippancy rising from the ashes. “I was expecting them to be a little more… you know.”

“What on Zenda are you saying?! They will raze our people to the ground! Did you not just see their appearance?!”

“Bit difficult to miss,” the chief answers thinly. “I… I’ve just been under the distinct impression that they’d be a bit more… intimidating, but legends do not lie, my darling. Stay here, won’t you?”

“It will make no difference, Shaz -”

“It may, for a while at least.” She kisses her soundly, swallows, and leaves, shadowed briefly by the walk past several neighbouring huts.

“Seriously, have I missed the memo?” The being calls dryly at the sprinting natives, the cries of horror that ring across the village, the doors being carelessly slammed as they dive for shelter. “Why are you all running? Admittedly can’t imagine you’ve all seen much in the way of teleportation, I could have been a touch more subtle, but -”

“You are the Ultimate One.” Her voice remains admirably level as it rings across the square, tremble barely visible in her legs. “My people fear you as the one that will destroy us all.”

The being spins, eyes alight with bewilderment.

“… Do they?” They ask in intrigue, before they sigh theatrically, turning a glare skywards. “And which of you thought this was a hilarious idea? Do speak up!”

Something distinctly uneasy shifts through her for a long moment as the being curls lips, seemingly having received their answer from a higher plane.

“… Lovely,” they snap. “I’ll deal with you later, kid.”

A cool look is directed suddenly at her, lips pursed. “So, what am I supposed to be doing exactly?”

The chief swallows subtly, wondering if she can lie to a being of ‘absolute wiles’.

“You are, uhm… you’re supposed to -”

“Oh for the love of -” Their tongue clicks in exasperation. “Telepathic, dear, do try not to lie won’t you?”

Her features fall just slightly, though a brow raises. “Why… why would you need to ask, then?”

“Is it too much to expect a little honesty?” They ask dryly, eyes rolling. “I’m going to be perfectly candid with you at least, sweet mortal - your legends are, to a degree at least, accurate. I am absolutely capable of tearing your precious little village to shreds, half the galactic locality with it in fact, and once upon a time I may very well have done, but -”

Two opulent love-seats appear beside the fireside in a diamond of light, duet of colourful cocktails placed beside a glass mug of something steaming, though the true curiosity is the being that’s also been summoned; clad in deep maroon and utterly bemused, he stares between entity and chief, decidedly irritated by the situation.

“ - I married this guy a few weeks ago, and he’s frustratingly ethical.” They say it with great affection despite the man’s clear annoyance. “Do take a seat, darling. I made tea!”

“Q,” begins the strange visitor furiously, “what in fresh hell -”

“Not in front of the Zendans, Jean-Luc.” They give a conspiratorial wink before glancing at Shazem expectantly. “Are you just going to stand there, my dear? I think you’ll find my campfire tales rather more charming.”

Shazem blinks stupidly as an irate voice washes through her peripheral awareness, muttering angrily foreign terms such as “Prime Directive” and “on the damn bridge!” and “supposed to be chairing a conference between the Talosians and Andorians!” as the other soothingly proclaims that they’ll fix time accordingly, and despite herself, she bursts out laughing, mad, breathless giggles erupting from her.

“They’re fine,” she announces loudly to her village, fear receding in her spirit. “Absolutely fine, my friends! Weird, very weird, but fine!”

“Less of that, thank you!” The being, apparently ‘Q’, responds coolly as the residents slowly peek from their huts, uncertain but trusting; some murmur brief laughs at the bickering couple, others merely stare. “You’re the weird ones, with your linear time and your limited lifespans! And you’ve never so much as heard of a starship -”

“Prime. Damn. Directive!” The one known as Jean-Luc hisses, outraged. “Please accept my apologies for my husband, good stars - apparently a two-month honeymoon wasn’t sufficient -”

“‘Pleasure and action make the hours seem short,’ my darling,” Q points out in fond exasperation, casting a glance at the villagers with a grin. “Anyone for a real legend? Wait until you hear how we met…”

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 51

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @thunderintheshadows​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

“I do not need a goddamn wheelchair.” Esme grumbles, five hours later, as Kyle pushes her out of the front entrance of their local hospital. “I can walk on my own.”

“Well considering you fainted once at mom's, and twice while you were here, I think it's safe to say you shouldn't be walking anywhere on your own right now.”

“People faint,” she shrugs.

“Pregnant women shouldn't faint. And they especially shouldn't faint three times. You heard what the doctor said. You're severely dehydrated, your blood pressure is sky high, and when you fainted, you managed to hit your head, give yourself a concussion, and receive seven stitches for your trouble.”  

She frowns at the last part; gingerly touching the bandage that covers the injury in question that runs down some of her forehead and into her right eyebrow.

“So now you have a prescription he wants you to get, and you've got this handy dandy portable IV...” he nods down at the small back like device resting in her lap, the needle of the IV having been inserted into the top of her left hand and secured with clear tape. “A nurse will come every day to check on it. To change the bag and see if the line is still good. Just be thankful that you get to go home. If I had my way, I would have had you admitted for a couple of days at least.”

“Well good thing firefighters have no pull when it comes to those things. Because I do not need to be in the hospital.  All I need, is to be as far away from mom as possible. Can you believe the things she said? Who says shit like that? Who wishes death on their own son in law? Or basically suggests her married daughter gets an abortion because mommy dearest doesn't like said son in law?”

“Look, what mom said was completely out of line and I think she's a huge bitch for saying any of it. But stop thinking about it. Because what she said and how you reacted is how you ended up here in the first place. So let's not talk about mom at all, okay? I'll take you home and keep an eye on you. You'll be more comfortable there than at my place. In your own bed, surrounded by all your stuff.”

Nik had assured them that it would be perfectly safe to return to the house; she and the security team would be there around the clock, and they were more than capable of both spotting and diffusing threats.

“Not everything,” she sighs. “My kids aren't there. My husband isn't there.”

“Well, he will be, Because he's on his way back.”

“Wait...wait...” she clamps her hands down on the wheels of the chair, preventing them from turning. “...what do you mean he's on his way back? You called him?  You actually called him? Why the hell would you do that?”

“I didn't call him. Nik did.”

“Why? She didn't need to do that. Why the hell...?”

“Oh I don't know why she would do that, Esme. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you're his wife and you're pregnant with his baby and you nearly just got admitted to the damn hospital!”

“I just fainted. When did it become such a serious issue for someone to faint? It's not life or death.”

“Okay, first of all, it's never normal for someone to just faint unless there's an underlying issue. Second, you're having a baby. So there isn't just a concern with your health, but with the baby's health too. You're not the type that gets sick easily and you don't normally have health problems. But, you have to admit, with the twins and Declan, there were problems. A lot of problems. Especially with the twins. So don't you think it's better to get you looked at and see if there's something else going on? With either of you?”

“It's just stress. The doctor asked if I've been under a lot of stress and I have. Huge stress. And then mom started with her shit and...”

“Listen, it's just better if things are taken seriously. They did some tests and some blood work and if anything is wrong, they'll let you know. Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

She nods.

“If nothing is wrong, then great. If something is wrong, then at least they found it and at least they can do something about it. Why do you have to be like this? So damn stubborn? Of all the things you had to inherit from dad, it had to be one of the worst possible things.”

“Well you inherited his looks so the joke's on you,” she teases.

“Are you trying to say I'm ugly?” he grins.

“I'm trying to say when you were born, mom said 'what a treasure' and dad said 'yeah, let's bury it'.”

Kyle chuckles. “I should dump you out of this wheelchair for saying that.”

“You'd never. You love me too much. Since we were kids and you used to beat up the bullies that used to teased me because I liked to climb trees and play with Transformers and GI Joe's instead of dolls.”

“I tell you, you could throw a left hook better than any of the guys I knew. They were just jealous. Because you were cooler than they were and I liked to hang out with you more than them. I'll stay with you okay? Keep an eye on you. Make sure you're eating and drinking and taking it easy. I already called my boss and he said to take a couple days and call him if I need more time. I'll hang around until Tyler gets here.”

“I still can't believe Nik called him,” Esme huffs. “This is the last thing he needs on his plate. He's already got enough  stress with having to go New Zealand and find those kids. He doesn't need to be worrying about me too. You should have just left it alone and not told him.”

“Kid, he's your husband. There was never an option of not telling him. I think he cares more about you and this baby than he does about some fucking job. I get its kids that are involved. I get how bad that sucks and how horrible it is. I really do. But someone else can finish the job. He's not the only mercenary out there.”

“He feels he needs to finish it. That he started it and it's up to him to get them.”

“Well he's obviously changed his mind because he's on his way home.”

“For good?”

“I don't know. I didn't talk to him. Like I said, Nik called him. And apparently he flipped his shit and told her to get him on the first flight home and that's what she did. So despite what mom thinks about him, he obviously cares more about you and the baby than he does about the job. If he didn't, he wouldn't have insisted that he was coming home even after Nik assured him that things weren't that serious.”

“And you call me stubborn? Tyler is way worse than I am.”

“He's not stubborn. He loves you. There's never been a doubt of that, that's for sure. I mean, if he can put up with your shit for this long, he must love you.”

“Or he's just a glutton for punishment.”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” he pushes the wheelchair as close as he can to the front passenger side door of his truck, and then sits the brakes and squeezes between his vehicle and the one parked beside to open the door. “Hey!” he scolds, when she attempts to stand. “I don't think so, kid. Sit your ass down. You don't do anything unless I tell you to, understand?”

“As much as I'm sure Nik will find your assertiveness insanely hot, you're my brother and you don't get to boss me around.”

“The hell I don't. Sit.”

“Fine,” she huffs, and plops back down. “You know, you are more like dad than I realized. He was bossy too,”

“Are you like this at home?” Kyle inquires, as he pops open the door and then helps her out of the chair, hands under her arms for support. “Do you get like this when Tyler tries to help? You get all obstinate and bitchy with him too?”

“Yep. And then he gets mad and we fight and then we have angry sex and things go back to normal.”

“You know what, some things I do not need to know. And that's one of them. Can you get up in there or do you need me to put you over my shoulder and drop you in to your seat?”

“I'm not an invalid, thank you very much. I only fainted.”

“Three times. And stop lying to yourself that there's just that wrong, okay? There's something going on with either you or the baby and it needs to get sorted out. Just let people take care of you, okay? You've spent five and half years either taking care of Tyler or taking care of kids. It's your turn now.”

“Oh just what I want. Sitting on my ass while someone caters to every whim and need...wait a second...” she frowns and cocks her head to the side. “...that actually sounds kind of nice.”

“You deserve someone to wait on you hand and foot, kid. Like the princess you are.”

“Princess? I'm the motherfucking queen, K.”

He just shakes his head and shuts her door.

****

While it's good to be home, it feels strange at the same time. It's empty. Lonely. Way too quiet. Nothing more than furniture and other belongings in empty rooms.  No kids running around; no shrieking, no squealing, no giggling, no near constant demands for snacks and juice. No dog barking or following her from room to room, desperate for the attention he isn't receiving (yet definitely is) from the others. No husband out working in the back yard or the garage.  While all of their things are there...in the exact places they'd been left...the house and its surroundings seem foreign. As if it belongs to someone else.

“Nik said the guys checked the place,” Kyle says, as he steps out onto the back deck, carrying a bottle of beer for himself, a steaming mug of tea -decaf, as the ER doctor had suggested-, where she sits in one of the oversized Adriondack chairs, a flannel blanket pulled up to her chin, legs stretched out and feet on the wooden railing in front of her.  “No sign of any trouble. Maybe those Irish guys already came to town and scared the bad guys away.”

“Or at least chased them somewhere else,” she says, and gives her brother an appreciative smile as he places her drink in the chair's cup holder.

“It's getting pretty late. You should be getting some rest.”

“It's nine thirty.”

“At night.”

“It's nine thirty,” she stresses. “I haven't gone to bed this early since before I had Millie. Before I got too huge and too uncomfortable and I couldn't sleep properly anyway.  You're getting a little too naggy.”

“I'm not naggy,” he argues, as he takes a seat in the chair beside her. “I'm worried about my kid sister. And my niece or nephew. Maybe both. Maybe there's two in there again.”

“Oh God, bite your tongue. Do not wish that on me for a second time. I love my boys to the end of the earth and beyond, that was the most brutal seven and a half months of my entire life. I do not want to go through that again. I'd rather have another nine plus pounder than two at the same time. Besides...” she reaches under her blanket and pulls out the ultrasound photo she's been keeping safe in her possession. “...looks like there's one baby Rake.”

Kyle takes the picture from her, squinting his eyes in an attempt to make out any distinguishing features. “What the hell am I looking at?”

She leans sideways in her seat and begins pointing out various things that the tech had circled. Heart, spine, kidneys, both eyes, nose, and mouth.  The radiologist on call had said that everything looked 'perfectly fine' and 'extremely healthy'. All parts existent and working properly, from what he could tell. “I'm a lot further than I thought,” she says to her brother. “I thought maybe two months. Three at the most.”

“And?” he asks.

“Three months, three weeks and two days.”

“Do you know the exact hours and minutes too?”

She rolls her eyes.  “I don't know that's the exact time. That's what the tech said based on all the measurements and everything. That's almost four months, K. I don't understand how it can be that far ahead. Nearly four months and I never showed any signs whatsoever? I mean, I missed a period and a half of one but that's nothing. Things have always been screwed up in that respect. That's never been normal.”

“Okay, you're my sister and I do not need to know certain things. Your...cycle...or whatever...is not something I need to know.  So it's a bad thing you're this far ahead, or...?”

“It's not that it's bad. It's just weird. Look, when you get married and your wife starts having babies, she will know everything that goes on in her body. And I mean everything. I thought I did know everything that my body is telling me. I mean, I've only been through this three other times, right? Oh no. This time is totally different. I thought I was just run down and stressed and worried and all that crap that comes with Tyler doing what he does. And you know what? He was the one the one who thought I was pregnant. Way before I did. You know what that means?”

Kyle frowns.  “What?”

“It means he was right. And when I tell him just how far along I am and that he was right, he will hold that over my head for years. Decades. Because that's what Tyler does. Because Tyler isn't used to being right and when I have to admit he is, he makes my life hell. Well maybe not hell. But he makes it very annoying. And I am not in the mood for that kind of shit. I'm cranky and I'm hormonal and it pains me inside to know I have to admit he was right.”

Her brother laughs. “You two are perfect for each other, I swear. He practically says the same stuff about you.”

“Excuse me? He does what? Have you been talking about me?” she gives an excited gasp and sits up, then asks “ Do you have a bromance going on?”

“We talk,” Kyle admits.

“When?”

“When you don't realize it's happening. What? You need to know everything?”

“I think it's a big deal when my husband...the black sheep of this family, through no doing of his own...is having a bromance with my favourite brother. It makes my heart happy. What's wrong with that? And what do you guys talk about?”

He shrugs. “Guy stuff.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“What? Guy stuff. You know, going to the gym, cars, trucks, work shit, girl shit.”

“Girl shit? He's talking about girls with my brother?”

“He doesn't talk about girls. I talk about girls. He talks about you.”

“Oh really...” her eyes narrow. “...and what does he say? Don't hold back. You can tell me. Don't protect him.”

“Nothing bad, I swear. He has never once said anything bad about you. The total opposite, actually. Trust me when I say that after five and a half years, that guy is still wildly and crazily in love with you.”

She smiles and sips her tea.  “He's lucky.”

“It's just random guy shit we talk about. I mean, every so often we'll talk about how big of a bitch mom is and how ridiculous the shit she says is.  Sometimes we talk about sports.  He really hates hockey by the way but I won't hold that against him. And every so often he'll talk about shit that's bothering him.”

“Really?” she's genuinely surprised. “He talks to you about that stuff?”

Kyle nods and sips his beer.

“What has he told you?”

“Esme, it's kind of personal, don't you think? If he's telling me and not you...”

“I'm not asking to be nosy and I don't expect you to betray his confidence. I'm asking because I'm worried about him. He's been having some really hard times, K. Mentally. And not just the depression and the anxiety. But with the PTSD and the brain fog and the memory issues. Have you noticed any of those things?”

“I've noticed a couple things, I guess. Nothing major. I just figured that whatever he'd been through had done a real number on him, you know? I mean, now that I know exactly what he went through, it's no wonder the guy has issues. That would fuck anyone up.”

“Has he told you about any issues? Anything specific?”

“Esme....”

“He's my husband. Kyle. And I'm worried about him. I don't know what to do for him. I don't know if he needs more therapy or if he needs different medication or if he needs both. I just want to help him.”

“I know. But right now, you're the one that needs help. I know you're used to being the mother hen and the one that babies everyone, but you've got your own shit going on, kid. You do not need to be stressing out over this. If you want me to, I can talk to him. See if he'll tell me anything else other than what he already has. But you can't be worried about this. Especially now. Not with your own stuff going on.”

“I fainted, K. That's it. I fainted.”

“There's way more than that going on and you know it. You need to take it easy and let people take care of you for a change. Stop trying to solve everyone's problems and just worry about yourself. That's why you're having issues in the first place. Because you stress yourself trying to fix everybody. Just...stop...” he reaches out and gently squeezes the back of her neck.  “...stop trying to save everyone.”

“That is not what I'm trying to do. I'm worried about him, Kyle. Legitimately worried. He isn't himself and he...”

“You just said he was stressed and had a lot on his plate.”

“It goes way beyond that.”

“Is he drinking again? Back on the Oxy?”

“He was drinking but he says he's sober and staying sober. And no.  He's not on Oxy again. He doesn't even like taking Tylenol. Which is a problem all in itself because he's in all this pain and he doesn't want to take anything for it.”

“And I said I would talk to him and see if he'll tell me anything else. Look, he's not coming home so you can take care of him. He's coming home to take care of you. Would you let him do that? You always have this need to take care of him, maybe he feels like he needs to do the same thing for you.  So give him that, okay?”

“You promise you'll talk to him?”

“If you're that worried about him...”

“I am. And this isn't my usual worrying about stupid shit. This is serious. There is something going on up in his brain and I don't know how to help him. And I know he hates telling me things because he hates me worrying. So maybe he'll tell you instead.”

“I will talk to him,” Kyle promises her. “You've had a long day. Lots of time on a plane, the excitement at mom's, all the poking and prodding at the hospital. You need sleep. That baby's counting on you, kid. You're the only one that can keep him or her safe and sound in there. So go. Go inside and lie down and sleep.  I'll be on the couch if you need me.” okay?”

“Where's Nik going to be?” she teases, as she pushes the blanket off of her and stands up, immediately feeling light headed and having to place a hand on her brother's shoulder to steady herself.

“I knew you should have been admitted,” he huffs.

“I'm fine. I just got up too quickly. Relax, dad. Jesus.”

“Don't get lippy with me. Because I will fireman carry you upstairs.”

“Is that how you're going to get Nik into bed? Seduce her with your fireman abilities?” she tousles his hair, presses a kiss to his cheek.

“How do you know she's not going to seduce me?” he counters.

“If you're going to have sex, I just ask that it's not in any of my children's beds. And stay out of Ovi's apartment.  Go and do it somewhere else if you have to. I don't want to be hearing the two of you bumping uglies, okay?”

“It's only fair. I've had to hear you and Tyler before.”

“That's because Tyler was trying to teach you how to do things properly,” she teases.

“You're a smart ass, you know that.”

“I do,” she says, and then disappears into the house.

***

The traffic is terrible; hampered by a steady rain and strong winds.   And he sits in the passenger seat as Yaz drives,  elbow on the door, hand rubbing his chin and mouth repeatedly, both legs shaking nervously.  The call from home has him on edge; brain running through all worst possible case scenarios, nerves completely shot, desperately yearning for something to take the edge of.  To at least calm him enough to stop fearing the worst. The assurances from Nik that there wasn't something seriously wrong hadn't worked; she'd insisted that he didn't need to return home and that things were 'under control' and he needed to just stay where he was and concentrate on the job at hand. He'd snapped on her. Telling her to shove the job up her ass and get him a way home. Sooner. Not later. That she'd set this bullshit in motion the moment she decided that ratting him out was a good idea. Had she not done that, Esme would still be in Ireland. Not half way around the goddamn world, dealing with issues with the baby all by herself.

“You need to calm down,” Yaz says.

“You need to fuck off,” Tyler retorts.

Yaz sighs. “You won't miss the flight. The guy's waiting for you. So...”

“I fucking hate traffic.”

“Okay, I get that. But like I said, they're waiting for you...”

“I don't give a shit. I need to get home. But instead I'm stuck in this fucking bullshit,” he angrily gestures out the windshield.

“”You heard what Nik said. Everything is fine. They didn't even admit her. If there was something wrong, she would have been admitted. “

Tyler sighs, and closes his eyes; trying his best to block out his friend's voice. The last thing he fucking needs is someone trying to tell him just where his concerns should lie and where his priorities should be. There'd been no hesitation when Nik had called; he'd already been throwing clothes and other personal belongings into one of the suitcases before she even got to the part where things 'weren't that bad'. It didn't matter how goddamn bad things were; he was going home and no one was going to stop him.

“It isn't that bad,” Yaz says. “Can you stop shaking like that? It's annoying me.”

“Just fucking drive,” he responds, and shakes his legs even harder, just to be spiteful.

“Would you just calm down? What are you so freaked out about?”

“If you tell me to calm down one more time...”

“Being this worked up isn't solving anything. I'm getting you to the airport, they're not going to take off without you, Nik said that things are that bad and....”

“I don't give a fuck what Nik said.  I need to get home. To my wife. I don't care if things are 'that bad' or not. She shouldn't be going through this alone.”

“Isn't her brother with her?”

“What the hell does that matter? I should be with her. And I would be if I never took this goddamn job. If that fucking asshole never showed up in Colorado.”

“Well technically, he's been after you since Guatemala, so...”

“Yaz, we don't need to get fucking technical. If we really want to get into it, none of this would be happening if your sister didnt' fuck up and hire Jason Andrews' brother. Which is who hired McMann to take me out. And if I really want to be a petty asshole, I'd say we also wouldn't be in this situation if your sister hadn't have ratted me out to my wife in the first place.”

“I get you're pissed about that, but...”

“I am more than pissed. I am so far past pissed. She should have just kept her fucking mouth shut. There was no reason she had to go to Esme. What good did it do?”

“Other than get you to knock your shit off and start getting your head on straight? She did the right thing, and if you'd calm down long enough, you'd realize that.”

“Stop fucking telling me to calm down!” he snaps.  “I will knock you the fuck out, Yaz, I don't care if you're driving. I am on my last shred of sanity and my last nerve is hanging on by a thread.  This all could have been avoided if your sister kept her mouth shut. If she'd minded her own business, Esme would still be here. With me. And that way if things went wrong with the baby, I'd be with her. Not thousands of miles away.”

“If you hadn't have decided to take matters into your own hands and drug and kidnap someone, it wouldn't be happening either.”

“Do I need to fucking remind you that you were on my side? That you agreed McMann deserved to suffer? That you agreed to help me? And then as soon as your sister showed up, you fucking bailed on me and threw me under the bus. That was a bitch move, Yaz. You fucking coward.”

“It was getting out of control. You were getting out of control. We've been friends a long time, Tyler. Even longer than you and Nik. I'm the one that got you into the job in the first place. And believe me, every day I want to kick myself in the ass for that. Because if I'd never done that, this wouldn't all be happening. And Dhaka never would have happened.”

“A lot of good things came out of Dhaka,” Tyler says, and can't even believe the words came out of his own mouth.

For years he's been dwelling on all of the bad things that happened in Bangladesh; Mahajan Senior screwing them over, G being killed, Gaspar betraying him, everything that took place on the Sultana Kamal Bridge, the fact that Esme had to see and hear the things she did. Even those long months in the hospital and the lingering, life altering after effects. Maybe it's the meds in his system; allowing him to think clearly and rationally instead of turning him into a zombie.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“My wife, for one. My kids. My chance at a normal life. Which I keep fucking up in the most epic ways possible.”

“It's hard. You've been doing the job for a long time. It's hard to just let it go,” Yaz reasons. “Even though you've got half a dozen reasons to walk away, you just can't. Somewhere along the long, the job stopped being something you do and you became the job.”

Tyler snorts. “Ain't that some shit.”

“You never meant for it to happen. It's not like you intentionally became that way. And it's not like you wanted to put it before your wife and your kids. You didn't even realize it was happening. It just did.  No one is going to fault you for that, Tyler.”

“They don't need to. I already hate myself enough for it.”

“Esme doesn't. She's still around.”

“Until she's not one day. And I don't want that happening.  I can't let that happen. You ask why I'm going home when things aren't that bad? Because that's where I fucking belong. It's where I've always belonged and I never let it happen. Home was never enough until I realized how close I was to losing it. So maybe you're not a coward, Yaz. But I am. I was a coward when I left when Austin was dying and I've been a coward for the last five and a half years.”

His head hurts. Even worse than his knee and his shoulder, for  once. And he reaches into one of the pockets of his flack jacket and pulls out a bottle of prescription meds; twisting off the cap and dumping three small pills into his palm.

“Thought you took your meds today,” Yaz comments.

“You keeping tabs on me now?”

“Thought you were only supposed to take one Valium a day? What the fuck...?”

“It's ativan, dumb ass. For anxiety.  I'm a little fucking anxious right now.”

“A little?”

“Don't make me hurt you, Yaz.”

He places the pills under his tongue, waiting for them to fully dissolve before reaching for a bottle of water sitting in one of the cup holders.

“Are you coming back?” Yaz asks.

“I don't know.”

“When will you know?”

“When I get home and see how bad things are. Can I get home first? Can I get to see my wife and talk to her before you start asking me these things? Fuck the job. She has to come first.”

“I get that. I do. But we're supposed to leave for New Zealand in two days.”

“So leave for New Zealand in two days. Mark and his boys will be with you. What? You need me there to hold your hand? You need me to spoon feed you and wipe your ass after you take a shit?”

Yaz smirks. “You can be a real dick.”

“If...and that's a big if right now...I come back, I'll meet up with you guys there. You don't need me there to gather up intel and find where the kids are. You just need me to get them out.”

“Exactly. We need you. You. Not some random fucking Marine that's never done shit like this before. And definitely not Mark. If anyone would fuck things right up, it's that guy. You're the one with the experience. We need you.”

“Nik can find someone else.”

“There is no one else. And you've been on this since day one. You know the history.  I don't want some newbie just walking in and screwing things up. You're the only one that can do this. Properly. Don't fucking bail on me, Tyler.”

“It's what I do, Yaz. I bail on people. You don't realize that by now?”

“You didn't bail on Ovi,” he points out. “Even when you were told to.”

Tyler sighs.

“So? Are you?” Yaz presses. “Coming back?”

“I don't know,” he admits. “I honestly don't know.”

[capnklutz]

Center Of The Hollow Moon: Part 1

Female Reader x Werewolf! Stucky

A/N: Hi! This is my first fanfic on tumblr ahhh! Hope you enjoy :) Let me know if you want more!

You give a closed mouth smile to the gas station attendant and sweep up your drink and candy bar. It had been a long ten-hour drive so far, but you knew it was going to be worth it. The stop at the gas station was long overdue if your nearly full bladder had been anything to go by. You always feel niggling guilt when you don’t buy anything from stores when you go in so you grabbed the drink and candy on a whim. 

The bell above the door jangles loudly when you shove your way out and back into the rainy weather. It had started raining in the past hour and your clothes were uncomfortably humid and damp. Tendrils of hair stuck to the back of your neck and your socks were wet. It was the end of May, but it looked like you were going to have a late spring with the rain. You still had over two hours left until you got the rental cabin. 

You had decided to take a road trip the summer before you went off to college. You had been planning to take a whole trip to ‘find yourself’ or whatever when you got the email. An email from a rustic_cabin_rentals4you@gmail.com appeared in your inbox two weeks ago. Despite the sketchy address the website provided checked out. You had apparently won a heavily discounted month-long stay in one of their cabins. The only problem was the long drive to the secluded little town. However, the low price was nothing to pass up on and you were not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. You had a little trouble convincing your parents to let you go, being a young girl alone in the wilderness. But something in you knew you would regret it if you let the opportunity pass you by, so after begging for a week they agreed. You still had to call them every night, but you didn’t mind. It would probably get lonely out there by yourself if you didn’t make friends so a phone call back home would be no extra hassle.

Your thoughts consumed you as the drizzle became a downpour and you turned your wipers on high. It was always a little bit anxiety-inducing driving in bad weather, but you would have to manage. It was hard to see and you leaned heavily over your steering wheel trying to get a clear view. Suddenly, a loud popping noise resounded through the car. It confused you for a minute until you felt the unevenness of the car. Your tire, godammit. You slowed down and pulled off to the side of the road. 

The rain kept coming down heavily, with no chance of stopping. You checked the radar on your phone and groaned when it was all red rain for the next few hours without any reprieve The sun was going to be long set before the rain stopped and there was no way you were going to get stuck out in the middle of the woods after dark. You unbuckled yourself from your seat and climbed back into the trunk of the car. After some maneuvering of luggage and supplies, you accessed the spare tire. Grunting, you shucked on a heavier jacket from your bags and pulled your damp hair under the hood. You climbed back into the front of the car and shoved open the door made heavy by the harsh winds. Instantly the wind whipped your jacket around and you gripped it tight to your body. 

This couldn’t get worse, could it? As if you spoke it into existence, thunder clapped loudly and the skies poured even more rain. You cursed loudly and marched to the trunk of your car. You popped it open and pulled the spare out of the compartment along with provided tools and hitch. You were very glad your dad had made you learn how to change a tire. You had gotten the flat off despite everything being slick and therefore harder to manage. When you were about to put on the spare a pair of headlights caught your attention. You had been the only car for quite a ways, so the yellow lights made you look up. 

The sleek silver car slowed as it approached you and then stopped. Your heart rate doubled in your chest. It was just instinct as a girl alone in the rain to be scared of a mysterious car stopping. You had heard the horror stories of murderers and rapists alone with women. You scrambled your feet and held the lug wrench from the tool kit in front of yourself protectively. Anxious, you watched as a man stepped out the car, great. He was a dark blur in the rain, but 

He cupped his hands together and shouted, “Hey there! You alright?” Thankfully, he kept his distance. 

You yelled back, “Yep! Everything’s great!”

“You need any help?” He asked and you shook your head in the negative. He nodded and went to get back into his car. Before, he did he suddenly stiffened and then relaxed. He turned back toward you.

“Hey, are you going to Perch? For the, uh cabin rentals?” He asked you and you nod in response. You were a little surprised, but then again you figured the little town probably didn’t get many tourists judging by the practically carless roads near the town. The man steps away from his car and jogs up to you. You feel less anxious and more curious as the mystery man seems kind and harmless.

He reaches you and stretches his hand to shake. You take it and he introduces himself, “I’m Sam, I’m also a local.”

You tell him your name and he smiles and you smile back. He’s handsome with dark eyes and neatly manicured facial hair. There is a bit of friendly small talk before he excuses himself when the rain picks up. You watch as he drives away and you hope you see him again.

You arrive at the cabin nearing close to eight at night. Your eyelids threaten to close with every move. The long drive was exhausting and all you want to do is find the bed in this place and sleep. You wander through the small, but well enough for one person cabin. It’s cute and homey and you won’t mind spending three weeks here. You manage to stay awake long enough to take a shower and make a quick dinner. After that, you are exhausted and manage to fall asleep minutes after your head meets the pillow.

Bucky smells her first. 

He’s on the porch relaxing under the night sky drinking an iced tea. He had his socked feet kicked up on the table from their outdoor seating set. Steve is inside the house making something that smells amazing. It’s a beautiful Sunday night after a hard week. 

He takes a long drink from his glass and sets it down next to his feet on the table. He crosses his arms behind his head and drags in a deep breath of the night air. He smells the dewy grass, the crisp air, the pine trees, Steve inside the house, and then, something else. Something mouthwatering.  He’s on high alert now, his body strung tight like a bow. 

It’s subtle, but just there enough that he needs more. The scent is maybe miles away, but he shouldn’t be able to smell it, even with his enhanced senses. It shouldn’t be possible, but the tantalizing scent is there. He drags in another lungful of it. It’s sugary sweet and spicy at the same time. It’s warm and feminine with hints of vanilla. He can smell cinnamon and pumpkin spice and the earth after rain and he wants. It smells like the blanket on his bed back in the home he grew up in. It makes him feel the way Steve does when he comes home after work. 

He can’t think about anything else. He wants whoever that smell is attached to right now. He wants them curled up against him on the sofa pressed between his own and Steve’s bulky frames. He wants that scent mingled in between Steve’s and his own scents and for it to be deeply permeated in his bones. Bucky’s pants are tight across the hard-on he is sporting. He doesn’t even notice Steve opening the sliding door until a crash startles him out of his intense focus. 

“Oh my god,” Steve gasps from behind him. He steps past Bucky and the plates of food in shards on the floor. Steve had always had sharper sense than Bucky and he immediately picked up on the tantalizing scent as soon as he stepped out the door. He makes for the woods surrounding their home closer to the scent. Bucky almost follows him before he remembers something else in the scent notes, human. It’s a human and they are very much not. Steve’s eyes are glowing a bright golden and Bucky bets his are a similar shade. Steve looks at him then, even half feral with need they understand each other. It’s them, their mate. The final piece that they had been craving for years, their omega.

“Steve, wait.” Bucky’s voice is breathy and unsteady and Steve hesitates, but stops his march towards the owner of that scent.

“We can’t,” he says, “not yet,” he adds when Steve lets out a snarl, fangs elongated. 

“Their human, and we are not in control. If we charge in there now and take them it’ll terrify them. Steve growls low and Bucky understands the sentiment he wants them too, but he has to be in control when Steve can’t. Steve paces across the grass for a moment before turning back to Bucky, eyes back to their familiar shade of blue, and he nods. 

Steve walks back up to the porch and Bucky pulls him into a hug, he presses a warm kiss to Steve’s forehead. Steve sighs hard and deflates in Bucky’s arms. 

“It’s a woman, our mate.” Steve mumbles against his cheek. Bucky doesn’t question it, it feels right and he trusts Steve’s better sense of smell. 

“Our ‘mega,” Bucky whispers back and he can feel Steve smile against his skin.

[sharinluna]

Love and Producer(MLQC) Lucien Overseas Date Translation

Translation of excerpt from unreleased Lucien date.

This is not a full translation, only some parts. 

The translation is based on KR version text. I am not a professional translator and get things wrong. So do not regard this as the actual canon.

I used Yōurán as the name of MC because that is the unofficial default MC’s name in CN version.

I think this date happened before chapter 13, so it can help you understand him better in chapter 13.

Overseas Date

Lucien’s business trips were usually short terms, but this time it seemed that he had to be away for a long time.

Yōurán: Are you going far away this time?

Lucien: Not that far. I am going to the country of The Little Mermaid, one of your favorite fairy tales. But I won’t be home for quite some time. So, could you look after the plants in my home while I’m away?

Yōurán: Do you really think you could entrust them to me?

Lucien: Don't worry. I've left instructions on the flower pot. If you think it's too hard, you can always call me, whether it's about the plants... or you.

He patted my head softly as if he was trying to encourage me.

Lucien: By the time I return, the marguerite daisies will be blooming. When that time comes, we can sit together on the terrace and look at flowers, drink tea, and eat your favorite desert. How about that?

Yōurán: I'd love it. You have to let me know right away when you come back.

Lucien: I promise.

The smiles in his eyes seemed to go deeper. He took my hand and placed the key to his house.

Lucien: Take good care of them while I’m gone.

I held on tight to the key which still held his warmth, and nodded.

Yōurán: I’ll look after them. You take care of yourself too.

Lucien: I will. You take care as well.

I hugged him as a goodbye. He also hugged me in a warm, powerful embrace.

Half a month passed.  Every day I got up 30 minutes earlier than my usual time to water Lucien's plants. The marguerite daisies he mentioned were in full bloom, but I could only share the delight with him through a small cellphone screen.

I was working on a project with YBC to run a TV show about Hans Christian Andersen. I decided that I have to go to Denmark for the local shooting. To ensure the quality of the shooting, but there was also a personal reason that I alone knew. I wanted to see him.

After 13 hours of long flight, I arrived in the city that Lucien was staying. After I got off the plane, a cool wind brushed my face. I could tell that the latitude was higher up here. (She’s remarking that Denmark is colder than Loveland city.)

I took out my only jacket that I packed and put it on. After I unpacked my luggage in the hotel I moved straight to shooting. It was important to meet him, but I had to finish my work first. My week here was filled with day after day of busy shooting.

Lucien: Have you been busy lately? You don’t send me pictures of the plants as often.

Yōurán: Yes, a little. But I’m looking after them as best as I can, so don’t worry!

Before I left, I installed a device that would water the plants automatically. Lucien cared a lot about his plants so I must take every measures I can.

Lucien: It’s not the plants I’m worried about. I’m worried about you.

Yōurán: Me? You have nothing to worry about me. I’m perfectly fine and healthy!

Even though I said so, I was feeling dizzy. It seemed like I had a cold.

Lucien: Are you going to keep lying to me? Hmm?

Lucien’s voice was still soft, but I could feel irresistible pressure. I panicked. I thought he saw through my perfect cover.

Yōurán: Why, Why would I lie to you…..

He sighed after listening to my nervous denial. Then in a tone more gentle and more worried, he said.

Lucien: Did you think I wouldn’t know, with how your voice sounds? You tell me every day to look after myself but you don’t keep your own words. What would I learn from this?

Yōurán: No, I took some pills, and I’m fine now!

I sighed in relief when he didn’t seem to realize that I was here. I discreetly changed the subject.

Yōurán: By the way, where is the hydrangea garden that you told me about?

Lucien: They are near my office.

Yōurán: Can you tell me the exact address? I, I was just curious…

Lucien was silent for a moment before answering like he was interested.

Lucien: You really want to know? Are you…

Yōurán: Er… My friend! She wants to go there!

After I gave a sloppy excuse, he sent me the address without questioning me further.

Lucien: If your friend is planning to go there today, maybe we could cross paths.

Yōurán: Oh, are you also going there?

Lucien: Yes. I have someone very important to meet. We’ll talk later. Get some rest. Good night.

After he hung up, I still held on to the receiver. I felt really warm, but I wondered who was his “very important person.”

After I was done with my work, I went to the garden that he told me. Under the sun I could see blue and purple flowers delicately embroidered on a broad grassy field. The scene was identical to the pictures Lucien sent me a few days ago. It was like seeing the flowers with his eyes.

A sudden unexpected rain came and blurred my visions, but I could clearly see the person with his back turned towards me not far away. It was Lucien. Without wasting my time to open my umbrella, I ran to him.

He started to look around when he heard footsteps, but I had already attached myself firmly to his back. Even without seeing, he knew it was me and stroked my hand gently with his fingers. I felt familiar warmth and familiar scent and I could hear his actual voice – not a slightly different sounding voice via phone – the voice that I have missed day and night.

Lucien: The “very important person” that I talked about. It was you.

He wanted to turn around, but I held onto him tighter because I didn’t want him to see my face. I cried softy as I leaned on his broad, warm back. I planned on giving him a ‘coincidental meeting’ with the happiest smile, but tears kept flowing endlessly against my will. 

He took my hand to his lips and blew warm breaths, thawing the coldness.

Lucien: Your hands are freezing. Let’s go to my place before your cold gets any worse.

I stayed where I was and shook my head. He didn’t push the matter further and indulged my unreasonable whims, like he always did.

Lucien: I want to hug my little fool too. Please let me look at you. Will it be okay if I do that?

With a sob I slowly let go of him. He pulled me in his arms and covered me with his coat.

Lucien: Next time, don’t use your ‘friend’ as a pretext. If you want to see me, you can say so to me directly.

Yōurán: Okay…

After feeling relieved I felt sudden dizziness, when I came to Lucien was holding onto me tightly. He looked at me with worry in his eyes, and his mouth kept moving. I didn’t hear what he was saying, but I vaguely remembered leaving the hydrangea garden and returning to his place.

When I woke up, the light of dawn was shining through the curtains.

Lucien: Your fever is starting to go down. Thank god. You must be thirsty. Should I get you a glass of water?

I was really thirsty. But I needed him more than I needed a glass of water.

Yōurán: Don't go... Stay by my side... please?

There were so many things I wanted to say, but I couldn't. I wanted to know whether he was doing okay on his own, why he didn't come back to me even after the marguerite daisies bloomed.... I used my feeble strength to hold onto his arm.

He sat by my bedside. He seemed to want to say something, but didn't. When I was about to ask him about that, his hands covered my eyes.

Yōurán: Lucien?

Lucien: Good girl. You need to rest. I promise you that I won't leave your side. You came all this way to see me and you worry that I'll be gone again. Is it because I didn't keep my promise?

I couldn't see his face but I could tell that he was feeling guilty.

Yōurán: I wasn't chastising you, I was just...

My words mumbled into a sob.

Lucien: You have every right and reason to blame me. I am with you now, so don't bear all the pain on your own.

I cried harder as I listened to his words. My voice didn't come out like something was blocking my throat, so I could only shake my head fervently to deny his words.

I wasn't angry that he didn't keep his promise that he'd be back by the time the flowers bloomed. I just wanted to know if he was okay. He kept sending me texts and pictures while he was away, but those little fragments were not enough.

He wiped away my tears, but they kept on flowing as if they forgot how to stop. He seemed at a loss to know what to do, then he leaned in and kissed my tear-stained eyes.

Lucien: Get some sleep and when you get better, I want to visit those places that I sent photos to you.

The hydrangea garden was the same place as yesterday, but it felt like the garden held a new meaning purely from the fact that he was here with me.

Yōurán: Did you go see the little mermaid statue while you were here?

Lucien: No, I did not.

Yōurán: I went there during the shooting, and I felt that the mermaid has a stronger personality than I originally thought.

Lucien: Did something happen there?

Yōurán: No, I just thought that she reacted courageously to the circumstances in the end.

When it came to love, she wasn’t submissive nor yielding. She didn’t surrender and maintained her will and belief even in front of the person she loved.

As if trying to live up to the sad tale, a sudden rain shower poured down upon us.

Although he brought his umbrella, Lucien took off his coat and covered me with it carefully. I held onto his shirt and buried my face on his chest without a thought. I could hear his heart beating faster and faster, like it was trying to get away from something.

When I raised my head up slightly I could see his firmly closed pale lips. His arms held me tighter.

Yōurán: Lucien, are you alright?

Lucien: It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me. I didn’t catch your cold.

He pulled me into his arms as if he didn’t want me to see him in pain. I pushed away from him and touched his sweating hair and pale face.

Yōurán: It’s not nothing! You told me I can tell you everything, but you always hide everything inside your heart! Like now. I don’t even know why you are suffering…

He forced a smile as he watched me pour my heart out. But his smile was much sadder than crying.

Lucien: Is that what you’ve been thinking all along? If that is what makes you anxious, then I promise you, that I will never hide anything from you. All sides of me, even my weakest moments. Could you… accept me like this?

I stood up on my heels to look into his unstable eyes properly and nodded firmly.

Yōurán: Yes, I will! What I like is the entire complete “Lucien.” It doesn’t matter what sides you have.

Saying that, I hugged him strongly. He put his subtly trembling hands around my body and held me tight like he was trying to imprint me into his chest.

He couldn’t yet understand the mermaid’s selfless, brave, devoted love.

(I said selfless, but it more closely means ‘disregarding herself over others’)

But it came to him that he could understand the little mermaid’s last choice.

As long as she wants to embrace all of him gently and warmly, what would it matter if he were to bear the pain that’s added solely from her.

[tydy-the-megnet]

Let's Watch Captain Marvel

Alrighty. It's definitely late, but I finally got the DVD. So, I'm watching Captain Marvel.

I've decided to make this post about it, which I will write as I go, because I've seen a lot of discussion about the movie without actually hearing about what happens in it... so uh... yeah. Here are my thoughts as I think them:

Brie Larson looks good with long hair. Also, is Carol bleeding blue...? I want to know what that's about and if it's important

Movie is said to take place in the 90s. Space still already has flying cars. I guess Star Wars wasn't not accurate

Listen Sensei dude, if there is one thing I've learned from anime, emotions only make you stronger.

"You gave me these" *shakes fists* is that literal? Like did Mr Sensei really give her fists or is that referring to her powers...? I know nothing of Captain Marvel

He's talking about controlling impulses again. He clearly hasn't seen any anime

The Skrull are the shapeshifters yeah?

... amnesia...?

Now the supreme intelligence (god ai???) Is also talking about controlling her emotions. I still don't buy it.

Mission time. Digging the banter

"I laugh on the inside. I'm not doing that now."

Hm, not sure how I feel about the helmet thing

Hard light scuba gear? That's cool

I'm digging the kinda star wars vibe

Captain listen to your CO but also dont listen to him at all

Yeah the skrull are the shapeshifters everything makes sense now

Wait is her name Veers? Or is that what she's called just because she doesn't remember who she is?

AIR FORCE YEAH

GO KARTS YEAH

GO KART NO

More of this "too emotional" stuff?

Goose!

Digging the whole mental probe thing.

*Tries percussive maintain on a person*

"I dont know any Dr Larson"

So that had me confused bc I was like "Wasnt her name Danvers?" But Larson is the actress and I guess that's just a character????

Do I have the two backwards?

Skrull: *snarls*

Captain: *snarls back*

I like her

She fights like an anime character while everyone else is an 80s sci-fi movie

Get the boots!!!

And touchdown! Planet C-53! Locally known as Earth!

I guess Captain Marvel could be called a blockbuster hit in-universe and out huh?

I'm hilarious

Honey in basically in the space-boonies now you got no service here lol

This poor confused security guard lol

She called across the galaxy on a pay phone...? Yeah okay cool cool

"[C-53]'s a real shithole" yeah give it 30 years or so it gets worse

Okay why do people not like Captain Marvel?

She's like a mix of Tony, Thor, and Steve

Is that... Coulson? Young Coulson!?

YOUNG FURY!

I don't think that was young Coulson after all...

Or is it?

Idek

TRAIN FIGHT

Why are these bystanders trying to stop Veers(?) from fighting this obviously not normal old lady?

What kinda old lady can flip like that?

TRAIN FIGHT 2, ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

oh it was Young Coulson!

Poor Coulson

Damn, Nick

*uses AltaVista*

So it's later 90s. Got it.

Lmao dial-up

I guess they're in california?

Lmao dial-up

Ah so this is the motorcycle scene I've heard about. Apparently they cut the part where she nearly breaks the guy's fingers? Disappointing.

The skrull aren't carbon-based life forms that's so cool!

Not on the periodic table...? Let's see, in the 90s... I guess stuff like rutherfordium and onward wouldn't be on there. Uh, maybe technetium? There might be a couple others but for the most part chemistry was advanced enough.

Unless it's something beyond like 118. Which is weird to think about but whatever I should stop thinking about it

Except elements like that would have to be in group 14 yeah?

Biology isnt exactly my forte but

Okay perhaps it's what we now know as flerovium?

The elements in the carbon group should react similarly enough to be the foundation of an entire life form

That's why silicon is used for synthetic stuff a lot right?

And tin

I'm getting off track the movie has been paused for a few minutes now

I'm just going to assume they are flerovium-based life forms

Oh shit they're in SHIELD

So Pegasus is a flight team, or an AF division, or....?

"I don't know if this guy is really human. I'd better ask a bunch of questions to which I don't know the answer."

A skrull could be saying random words and it would totally work

"If toast is cut diagonally I can't easy it."

Why the heck not??????

"That was a photon blast" is that what that is? Awesome

I want Peter to meet her. I think he'd have a new contender for favorite

"A skrull can't do that. " how is he supposed to know that?

Young and slightly less suspicious Fury??

"Noble warrior heroes"

J O S E P H

NASA and USAF. Sweet.

"State-of-the-art two-way pager"

Ah the old tape-and-fingerprint trick. Haven't seen that since the 90s--oh

GOOSE

Fury meeting Goose is the purest scene in marvel

"you sat there and watched me play with tape?" Lmao

"Shes kookoo" "Kree glyphs" ":O"

Veers was the pilot

I still don't know her sensei's name

"Excellent work, Nicholas" ":O"

LARSON WAS MAR-VELL!??!!!?!

(I know who Mar-Vell is!)

Okay okay okay

More of this "dont emotion" garbage. Listen Veers, DON'T listen

FURY FIGHT SCENE

COULSON NO

COULSON YES

"You know how to fly this thing?" "Uh" "it's a yes or no question"

GOOSE

They're going to LA

(Louisiana not Los Angeles)

Cool

Why do people not like this this is great!

She's got the worst part of Thor, but the best part of Tony and Steve!

RONIN!?!??!??!?!!?!??!?!?!??!??!:0!?!?!

AUNTIE CAROL?!?!?

(So it IS Carol Danvers. Which means Larson isn't her mother. Which makes since because she's actually Mar-Vell. Who's... well, not the mother.)

The Good Lady Ms. Captain Carol Marvel "I-Can-Boil-Tea-With-My-Bare-Hands-Which-Shoot-Lasers-Too" Danvers Ma'am

"You're jacket. Mom doesn't let me wear it anymore after I spilled ketchup on it."

I dont know this kid's name but I really really like her.

"Call me young lady again and I'll put my foot in a place it's not supposed to be."

... that one is more clever with context but whatever

"Am I supposed to guess where that is?" "Your ass"

Monika. That's the kid's name. She's great.

Ah, more ancient relics they call "tech" lol

FLY TIME

Do a barrel roll

She did a barrel roll!

"Your blood is uhhh blue" "yeah but how's my hair"

Ah, "Vers" bc they assumed that was her name. Interesting.

Also I want to get super power by blowing something up that's way cooler than being bitten by a stupid spider

Is she human? Is she not? I've no clue

The skrull are the good guys. Things are starting to make sense again.

... maybe I should've pushed to watch this before far from home.

... huh.

... is she human?

Okay so I'm still a little confused but I think I got it.

Though I won't say I dont want something else to blow up

"Those aren't coordinates they're orbital vectors." "It's basic physics." "Couldnt you figure that out? You're my science guy."

"I just think you should consider what kind of example you're setting for your daughter." That's it. That's the best line in the whole movie. Time to go.

Her suit can change colors on a whim!?!

That's awesome

I DIG THE NEW LOOK

I mean I saw it in Endgame but

"How do I look?" "Fresh" lmao 90s

RONIN NO

GOOSE YES

"What's a cat?" xD

"Why would I turn into a filing cabinet?"

Space lab. Cool.

Is that the tesseract??

THAT'S THE TESSERACT

She can pick it up!!

Does that mean she could've wielded the Infinity Gauntlet??????

Pinball lmao

968700!?!???!??!!?!!??!?!???!??!?!??!?!?!?

HOLY FLERKEN SHIP

GOOSE

YES CAROL

GET EMOTIONED

KICK HIS BUTT

GOOSE NOOOO

Those bastards

"Only human" HEY I RESENT THAT

THE FACT THAT YOUR HUMAN FILLS YOU WITH DETERMINATION

GOOD LADY MISS CAPTAIN CAROL MARVEL DANVERS MISS AWESOME MA'AM SENPAI SAMA

SHE'S A SUPER SAIYAN

PURE OF HEART AND AWAKENED BY FURY

(I'm still hilarious)

GOOSE DID THE THING

This is awesome why dont more people love it???

"Good kitty"

This very quickly went from Star Wars to Dragon Ball and I am loving it

She really is an anime character

Did she? Is that? Nerf gun?

Okay Carol isnt that much god mode there was just a nerd gun on the floor okay cool yeah sure

"Just like Havana" TALOS YOU BEAUTIFUL--

Remember how captain america jumped to the outside of a plane and fought through it? Yeah CM just did that in SPACE take that Steve

Still dont know how I feel about the helmet thing though

JUST LIKE BEGGAR'S CANYON BACK HOME

RONIN

Yeah, those are explosions

Ronin: O_O

Ronin: .... yeah bye

"I have nothing to prove to you."

HECK YEAH. GO CAROL. LASER HIS BUTT.

Fury lost his eye! GOOSE HE TRUSTED YOU

*thinks back to that moment in Winter Soldier*

"You were Solar and the SHIELD agent?" Omg Carol yes keep up

Fury SINGS?!?!

So like, are her powers just straight up energy manipulation? Because that's pretty cool. Really versatile, too

The way she started the engine makes it seem so

And then she just,,,,,, flies away. Into the night. Like stardust in the wind.

Dig the jacket, though

"The Protector Initiative"

It begins......

"Is it true? The Kree burned your eye out because you refused to give them the tesseract?" "I will neither confirm nor deny the facts of that story"

Lmao Fury

"CAPT CAROL "AVENGER" DANVERS"

"The Avenger Initiative"

It didnt actually show it but we know

Also, dig the music

Aaand now we see, 20ish years later, the snappening

"I wanna know who's on the other end of that thing"

First of all I love that they dont call it a pager because it's 2018 wtf is a pager amirite?

Second, I love how Carol is just there. Great reveal. 1007391861604016/10

"Where's Fury?" D:

Better question, where is Goose???

*one roll of credits later*

Oh! :D

Lmao the tesseract

God this movie is amazing

[sunniebelle]

31 Days of Doctor Who Fics- A Smile To Light Up The Dark

Nine x Rose AU

A new face at the local Coffee shop has a profound effect on Doctor John Smith's mood. Will this be the start of something wonderful, or will his stubbornness be an impassable roadblock?

A03

Standing in the queue at the Cozy Corner Coffee Shop with all the other people who quite obviously didn’t have anywhere else to go or somewhere important to be, Doctor John Smith rolled his eyes impatiently and crossed his arms over his chest. Perhaps if he scowled enough at the people in front of him, they would move faster and let him be on his way.

Unfortunately that seemed to make time crawl past even slower.

Becoming quite irritated with all the stupid apes in front of him, who were quite obviously more interested in their phones or talking to one another than going about their day, John considered simply leaving and going on to the university. His class would be starting in ten minutes and he was rarely ever late. But then, his students likely wouldn’t care anyway.

Not able to help one more roll of his eyes, he uncrossed his arms and stuffed his hands in his leather jacket’s pockets. He reminded himself that walking past the university’s sharp-as-a-whip secretary, Donna Noble, without her tea would not be worth the tongue lashing he would receive.

Five minutes later he was finally able to place his order. As he reached for his wallet, his nose was tickled by the familiar and tantalizing scent of bananas.

“What is that? Something with bananas? I didn’t know you sold anything with bananas.” he asked the barista who was busy making his and Donna’s teas.

“Oh, we didn’t until a few days ago. Hey, Rose, someone’s asking about you’re baking.” the pretty boy barista said.

Looking at the case, John saw that someone was bent over behind it putting baked goods into the glass display case. When she stood, John had to remind himself to not gape like a bloody school boy.

She was young and lovely, with bright, playful amber-brown eyes, bottle-blonde hair that was like a halo upon her head and her full pink-tinted lips were pulled into a smile that seemed to light the room.

Feeling every bit like a juvenile, he suddenly remembered that he needed his brain to work and not simply stare at this beautiful woman. After all, she probably wouldn’t look at him twice, not with his daft old face.

“Hi, I’m Rose,” she said, reaching over the counter to offer her hand in greeting. “Rose Tyler. Just started here last Friday.”

“John. Doctor John Smith.” He took her hand—and his knees did not tremble from the almost electric shock that raced up his arm at her touch.

The smell of bananas wafted over to him again, reminding him of why he was being introduced to her in the first place.

“What do you have then?” he asked, finally looking away and to the glass case.

She rattled off a few different types of muffins, three of which were banana-themed and several cakes and pastries.

“I’ll take three of the banana nut muffins and one blueberry, if you please.”

She smiled at him with the tip of her tongue showing and he forced himself to not let his eyes follow that teasing tongue.

“You have a thing for bananas or something?” she asked, and he absolutely did not blush.

“Bananas are good. Full of potassium, they are.”

She smiled that teasing smile at him again and handed him a brown bag at the same time as the barista placed his teas on the counter. He finally remembered to pull out his wallet, paid and made a rather hasty goodbye as he exited.

Feeling a fool, he walked quickly, his long runner’s legs getting him to the campus in record time. Taking a moment to drop off her tea and a blueberry muffin, he gruffly dismissed Donna’s chatter and made his way to his classroom.

The rest of his day was spent in a daze, as all he seemed to remember was Rose’s smile and bright eyes. When he finally ate the muffins, he let out a moan as he bit into them. They were fantastic! He would have been horribly embarrassed at the sound—and would’ve grumpily denied having done it—if it wasn’t for the fact that he was in the privacy of his office.

Over the next two weeks he became a regular at the Cozy Corner Coffee Shop, ordering tea or coffee and always getting one or two varieties of Rose’s banana themed treats on his way to work.

Donna was relentless in asking him why he was suddenly in such a great mood all the time and suspiciously asked why he was bringing her muffins with her tea every day. He snippily told her that is she didn’t want them, to give it back and he’d be on his merry way, which quieted her grousing.

He tried to speak with Rose every time he went to the coffee shop and always left with a brighter smile than when he came in. One day, on a whim, he stopped by after work and found it was almost completely empty. He felt inordinately pleased that he’d timed his visit at the end of her shift. He was rather surprised that she didn’t rush home, but instead asked him to sit with her. They sat at the back of the shop and chatted about anything and everything while sipping on tea.

When the conversation lagged, Rose looked up at him and suddenly said, “I have a question.”

“I might have an answer,” he retorted, causing her to smile.

Then her smile turned shy. “Would you...would you like to get a bite to eat later? With me? Ya’know, somewhere that serves more than breakfast treats? There’s a really great chippy round the corner.”

He stared at her, completely gobsmacked. She played with her gold hooped earring as words began to tumble from her lips.

“’S just, you seem really nice and I thought, maybe we could spend some more time together.” She looked up at him nervously.

He was desperately telling his brain to reboot, since his ability to process and create words seemed to have malfunctioned.

“You want to go out? With me?” he asked her incredulously.

Searching his face, she nodded.

He couldn’t understand it. This beautiful, funny, smart young woman not only seemed to like him, but was wanting to spend more time with him. Him!

“I just...I never expected you to glance at me twice. Daft old man that I am. I thought you would’ve been interested in that pretty boy that works here.” He said, trying to keep the jealousy from seeping into his tone, but knowing he failed completely.

“Adam?” she asked, confused. “He’s alright. But he’s just a friend. He’s too...full of himself for my taste.” She paused. “And you’re not daft or old, John.”

It was the first time she had called him by his name. He found that he liked how it sounded coming from her lips.

Smiling gently, he said, “Have to disagree with you. I’m more than ten years you’re senior.”

Her face fell and her eyes lost a little of their spark as she looked down at the table, her fingers absently playing with the rim of her empty cup.

Something twisted in his heart, seeing that light in her eyes fade and knowing he had caused it.

Reaching across the table he placed one of his hands atop hers and gave it a gentle squeeze, causing her eyes to rise to meet his serious gaze.

“But I’d be a bloody fool to turn down an offer spend more time with you.” He searched her face and felt his smile grow when her own stretched across her face. He had a sudden longing to make her smile like that every day and only for him.

Within a few minutes they were walking down the street, hand in hand. He knew that he had the biggest, goofiest grin on his face and couldn’t bring himself to care one bit. He felt her head rest on his should and looked down at her, his smile becoming impossibly wider.

Oh, but he was a goner for sure. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Part of @writersmonth Writing Challenge for August 2019. All rights for Doctor Who and it's characters belong to the BBC. Day 3 prompt: coffee shop AU

(also tagging @doctorroseprompts

[tauers-go-dutch]

Africa Part I: Victoria Falls

While I had known for years that swimming with Great Whites was top of Ryan’s bucket list, little ol’ me always thought that really was just a dream for another lifetime. However, following an absolute whirlwind of adventure the past two years, we thought-- why the hell not now?

In an Uber to the airport in Krabi, we took the plunge and bought tickets to Johannesburg from my iPhone. After that, we didn’t do a lot of follow-up planning for a few months, and even considered canceling or changing our destination following the serious drought in Cape Town. Fortunately, someone blessed the rains down in Africa, so off we went!

While we’d bought the tickets on a whim to and from Johannesburg, we ultimately decided to spend the first few days in Zimbabwe, seeing Victoria Falls. We grabbed an airport hotel in Jo-burg in order to immediately hop on another flight to Victoria Falls.

When we arrived in the tiny town that is Victoria Falls, we took a stroll through to the Victoria Falls Hotel. The hotel, built by the British colonizers in 1904, sits on the gorge above the Zambezi River downstream from the falls. That said, of course they have afternoon tea! Fortunately we made it just before they stopped serving tea for the day, and we were able to experience one of my very favorite things in an absolutely incredible location. We enjoyed our tea with the view of a lifetime, including several warthogs grazing on the lawn just next to the hotel patio. When we were through we spent a good amount of time touring the hotel and learning about the history of the area. After tea we walked back into town and hopped into a brewpub/pizza spot for some food and drink before grabbing a cab back to our hotel.

Mist from the falls

Unfortunately, Timon was nowhere to be found...

They have to bend over like that to get to the grass

The following day we went canoeing on the Zambezi. The Zambezi is the river on which Victoria Falls falls, and it also separates Zimbabwe from Zambia. Our tour was very small, with one Brazilian woman as well as an American man from….somewhere back east. Both were in town for the Victorian Falls Marathon, which we had only learned of the previous day. Maybe a good thing, because otherwise we might have been tempted to sign up for it! (The half, anyways…)

While the main point of the tour was to experience the river itself, we hoped to also see some wildlife. Most of what we saw was actually during the drive to the drop-in point. No matter where you are in Africa, keep your eyes peeled. We saw our first giraffe, our first hippo (out of the water!) and some cool birds before hitting the water. As we canoed, we saw a few crocodiles as well as more hippos. Oddly they were all on land -- the guide said it was likely because the temperatures were dropping and they didn’t feel the need to cool off in the water. Whatever the reason, I prefer my crocodiles and hippos a nice distance from my boat, so land it is!

A baobab tree, the ‘tree of life’ 

Spot the croc!

This guy was just a babe

When we reached our pull-off point, our guides had a nice lunch ready for us, where I was ‘lucky’ enough to try some crocodile kebab. ...It’s only meh. Ryan, the carnivore, agrees. We ate near a tree full of monkeys, so I spent the majority of lunch watching them play. Afterward, our guide admitted to us that we were supposed to have sandwiches rather than the hodgepodge of food we ended up eating (I wouldn’t have known any different…) except the monkeys had stolen the loaf of bread as soon as he arrived! He even showed us the plastic bag stuck in the tree as proof!

Crocodile kebab

Monkey watching

Upon our return to town, we decided to check out the local artisans market, where we bought a few handmade souvenirs for ourselves as well as some friends and family, before hitting up the town’s brewery, the River Brewing Co. The world cup was still going on, so we watched France beat Argentina (sorry, Messi!) while sipping on some local brews. It took a bit of effort to find a dinner spot that evening, as people from all over the world were in town looking to carbo-load before their marathon the next morning. We settled on a small tourist-trap looking place, had a quick bite, and cabbed it back to our hotel. (You don’t dare walk at night, due to aforementioned random giraffes, hippos, monkeys… and their predators… just off the roads.)

While others were running, we were sleeping in. Eventually we got up to walk into town, cheering on the runners nearing the finish line along the way. Today was the day we were finally going to see the falls! On our walk there, however, we were stopped by two guards telling us we  should wait, as there were elephants on the path and it wasn’t safe. We hemmed and hawed, before noticing that there were several other people walking around and we’d likely be just fine. We proceeded with caution and were rewarded with an incredibly up-close experience with the largest land animal in the world! We stood in awe for a few minutes, watching them graze in the bushes (there were 4 or 5 of varying distance from us) before grabbing a couple s-Elphies and moving on.

There is a nice restaurant on the edge of the canyon called the Lookout Cafe, where we grabbed a bite to eat with the best view in the house. Finally we made it to the falls themselves. I don’t know what exactly I had been expecting. You can see the billowing mist from them anywhere you stand in town, and you can hear them from a mile away, so I’m not sure why their enormity amazed me as much as it did once I finally stood next to them. I would use our cliche ‘let the pictures speak for themselves’ here, but it’s impossible to take a photo of Victoria Falls that might do it justice. The two nicknames ‘The Smoke that Thunders’ and ‘The Place of the Rainbow’ given to it by the indigenous people of the area, gives more insight into the grandiosity and splendor of the waterfall. There are several viewing points within the Victoria Falls National Park, so we spent as much time taking it all in while doing our best to avoid getting too soaking wet. (Ponchos are for chumps.)

Shameless pull straight from Wikipedia: 

While it is neither the highest nor the widest waterfall in the world, Victoria Falls is classified as the largest, based on its combined width of 1,708 metres (5,604 ft) and height of 108 metres (354 ft), resulting in the world's largest sheet of falling water. Victoria Falls is roughly twice the height of North America's Niagara Falls and well over twice the width of its Horseshoe Falls. In height and width Victoria Falls is rivalled only by Argentina and Brazil's Iguazu Falls.

A wee bit misty...

After experiencing Victoria Falls, we made the trip across the river into Zambia. We had purchased a double Visa that would allow us in for a daytrip, which was all we had time for anyways. Unfortunately we did not get to experience the waterfall from the national park on the Zambia side, as it was a separate (expensive) entrance fee, and we had entered the country with the intention of visiting the Royal Livingstone Hotel. Because of course I wanted to have afternoon tea in both Victoria Falls and Livingstone!

We went through customs on both sides of the bridge before making the decently long walk out to find the hotel. It was immediately evident that this wasn’t a pedestrian-friendly walk, as there were zero sidewalks and we were the only ones who didn’t hop in a cab upon entering the country. Oh well, it’s only 2 kilometers and still plenty of daylight!

The Zambezi from the bridge

Walking up to the Victoria Falls Hotel two days prior, we were greeted by warthogs grazing on the lawn. As if that wasn’t cool enough, on this side of the river we ran into zebras! As soon as we entered the gate to the hotel grounds, we came across several. This time we stopped for a Z-elfie. Ok, I’ll stop. We were seated for tea just inside, where we still had a view of the lawn and the Zambezi River but could grab some respite from the sun and heat. The tea and cakes were great, with Ryan and I agreeing that the Victoria Falls Hotel had better scones while the tea itself was more enjoyable at the Royal Livingstone. Once we finished up we spent some time exploring the grounds, coming across another herd of zebras and watching the sunset over the river. Before it got too low, however, we made the trek back to the border crossing in order to get back into Zimbabwe before the customs offices closed. We made it through just as it really got dark and had a quick dinner at an Asian restaurant before heading to bed.

I can imagine not much has changed since Livingstone himself sat here. Kidding... Unlike it’s counterpart in Victoria Falls, this hotel was built in 2001.

My happy place! Yum!

One more glimpse of the river as we cross back over the bridge

First thing in the morning, we had a flight back to South Africa, to spend a week in Cape Town! Africa Part II coming soon! 

Tot ziens!

[josiesparklelove]

“I didn’t realize you actually had feelings. I’m going to have to reset my entire mental image of you.” - Hakuoki!AU senses tingling

@labyrinthofleah

Fun times, Leah. Here ya go. 

————-

“Josie!” Leah shouted reaching out for her hand. “Come on, we need to go. The Shinsengumi are leaving.”

Josie scrunched her eyes as she looked off towards the dock where several blue uniforms were beginning to board a boat. “I…. They’re not going to accept me.”

“What are you talking about I-”

“Are the very necessary assistant to Dr. Matsumoto, who has very handy fighting skills. I’m the local flirty tea wench. They’re not going to take me with such limited space on the boat.” Josie sighed. “Plus I’m pretty sure their ninja knows I’m a demon.”

“Josie…. what does that matter anymore? Several of the captains, including Hijikata are furies…” Leah pleaded with her friend, “Plus, what about Chizuru-chan?”

“You’ll still be there, right?” Josie weakly smiled. “She’s in more than capable hands.” 

“Jos-”

“Hey, Leah. You Ready?” Okita asked as he jogged up to where the girls were standing. “This the demon Yamazaki mentioned?”

“Uh… yeah.” Leah replied. 

“You come here to try to take away the kid? Gotta warn ya, I don’t think the Commander is willing to let her go anymore. Hope you’re ready for a fight.” Okita announced with a smile unbefitting his threatening words.

“Afraid not. Might break a nail, and then I’d have to skin you all alive.” She replied a similar smile on her face. 

A tense moment passed before Leah had enough and she placed her hands on Okita’s chest pushing him away. “That’s enough. Okita, Let’s go.” With a parting glance towards her friend, Leah turned away and the two of them walked towards the boat. In the distance Josie saw Chizuru and Hijikata walk on board, for a brief moment she thought Chizuru looked in her direction, but she eventually went below deck. 

Moments later, the boat pulled away from the dock. Just as Josie was momentarily regretting her decision a single tear fell down her cheek. But she didn’t have time to suffer when she felt a presence beside her. 

“Regretting your decision?” Kazama said lowly before glancing to her face, a moment of surprise. “I didn’t realize you actually had feelings.” Josie rolled her eye as she raised a hand to wipe the tear from her face. “I’m going to have to reset my entire mental image of you.”

“In that case I’m not exactly sure what type of heartless person you thought of me then.”

“Someone who was willing allow her own store to burn so she could follow some girl.”

“You went to check for me at the tea shop?” Josie asked and raised an eyebrow. Kazama’s face remained stoney as he watched the boat begin it’s journey to Edo. The afternoon sun casting a warn orange light on his features. “I suppose I am going to have to reset my mental image of you as well.” She replied and looked out to the ocean, missing the small smile that grew on his face. 

“Well, shall we be on our way then?” He asked turning away and Josie followed mainly out of confusion rather than desire. 

“And what way would that be?”

“Surely, you don’t think so little of me to not know that you plan to go to Edo as well?” He asked his back to her though he could just hear the surprise in her voice. 

“I-” Josie stopped cold as she looked past the man to see a horse tied to a nearby tree. “And why would… you…?”

“Call it a whim to see this story through to the end.” Kazama said as he pulled himself up onto the horse’s back. 

“And why would you help me?” Josie asked ever suspicious of his motives. 

“Are you willing to find out?” He asked and offered her his hand.

[lateniteslacker]

Requiem of Trust

I’m posting it!  Castlevania is dear to my heart, and so too is this story.

I wrote this story seven years ago on a whim, long before I posted anything on AO3.  If you’re looking for a masterful work of art, turn around now.  What you’ll read in this story is nothing of the sort.

What you will find in this story is my deep love of the Castlevania games and its characters. It’s meant to be comical, fun, and hopefully endearing.  Yes, there is a plot, but it’s nothing you’ll need tissues for this time around.

As I mentioned, this story is old.  If you’ve read any of my other work, you’ll see how far I’ve come as a writer.  While I will be editing this to fix grammatical errors and a few outdated references, I don’t intend to change much of the story structure itself.  Since editing can take some time, there may be a few days in between each chapter posted.

With that said, please enjoy this trip with me into the past.  I hope you’ll love Requiem of Trust and its sequel Modern Problems!

The story is on AO3 here!

Chapter 1: Mind Your Manners

Modern Day.

He was the height of hip. The lead rockstar. The epitome of modern fashion.

Nothing was getting in Leon Belmont's way.

Nothing of course, except the barista at the local Starbucks.

"For the last time, I just want it plain!" Leon demanded.

"Do you mean plain coffee? Tea? Water?" The girl in the purposeless green visor asked.

"Just pick something from your silly chalk-board and make it!" Leon sighed in exasperation.

"Got it," the girl agreed, with far too much pep.  She punched a few things into the register and then quickly read off, "Skinny, mocha, light, decaf, double-blended, extra hot?"

Leon was at the point of pulling his hair out. "Just… anything!"

"Ok ok!" She rolled her eyes at him and muttered something that sounded like, "You need to chill."

Leon ignored her comment, because clearly she was the one who needed to chill.  He handed her cash, allowing her to keep the change, glad that the horrible exchange was finally over. Just as he almost had his beverage in hand, six horrible words echoed through the room.

"Do you want whip-cream with that?"

"AAAARRGH!" Leon grabbed the drink and marched out of the store.

Finally alone in the nighttime air, he paused to sigh in relief. He would never understand what his descendants saw in this place.

Suddenly, he was reminded of why he was even standing in front of this hellish cafe. He was here to meet someone inside.

Leon turned around, but shook his head, determined not to re-enter the store unless absolutely necessary. So, he settled for sitting on the wooden bench just outside.

He didn't have to wait long before a weight settled silently into the bench next to him. "Leon Belmont. It's been ages."

Technically, it had only been a week. But Leon allowed his somewhat delusional friend the mistake. "Joachim Armster, it's good to see you well, old friend."

"I'm not that old," Joachim scoffed. "I'll never understand your dislike of coffee cafes. What did you get this time?"

“I really couldn’t tell you,” Leon replied, ignoring the scoff and handing the whatever-drink to his friend.  As he turned to face him, he noticed the change in Joachim’s appearance.  

Joachim had taken to adding colors to his hair this decade, often choosing the most bizarre hues. Today it was purple.

He had also grown fond of the "hipster" fashion movement, wearing tight-fitting jeans that betrayed every slight movement and a light pink button down with the top half buttons unbuttoned in a characteristic way that said, "yeah, what do I care? Fuck you.  Fuck me."

Joachim had even tried the man-bun once a few days ago. It hadn’t ended well.

All in all, he blended in decently well, for a vampire. Joachim had long ago started clipping, filing, and painting his claw-like fingernails and adopting the clothing of the era. The only things that betrayed him now were his skin and his eyes, which were both a tad too pale and unnaturally ethereal.

While Leon admired the clothing he would never choose to wear, Joachim took a sip of the mystery drink, and made a disgusted face.

"You don't like it?" Leon asked. "I just told the girl to make anything."

"On the contrary, it's delicious." Joachim admitted, taking another sip. "It's you, Leon. Did you go thrifting again?"

"I… maybe…?" Leon said noncommittally.

"Leon, what have I told you about thrifting?! You can never hope to blend in with the times that way!" Joachim explained for the 100billionth time, exasperated.

"It’s just," Leon trailed off, thinking of something to say.  Eventually he insisted weakly, “you can’t beat the prices?”

Joachim turned to face Leon squarely.  He extended a delicate index finger and pointed out the atrocities in Leon’s wardrobe with a true fashionista’s merciless cruelty. "Leg warmers went out in the 80's, tye-dye bellbottoms in the 60's, striped felt shirts in the 70's, and… oh… the speckled fedora is so last year."

As he made the last comment, the vampire flicked Leon's prized fedora off his head, revealing his ratted blond hair. He could have sworn that Joachim almost cried. "Oh no! No no no! How could you do that to your hair?!!"

"It's fashionable?" Leon ventured.

"Hideous is more like it. Oh Leon Belmont, you had the hair of the GODS, and now you've given it up to punk fashion, the one fashion trend you absolutely should never follow!" Joachim cursed in an ancient language that Leon didn't exactly know and whined at his perfectly manicured fingernails. "If only I still had my old nails! I would tear your hair back into shape right now!"

Leon ducked as the vampire swiped at his hair anyway, placing the fedora back on his head. "All right! Fine! I'll brush it out tomorrow."

Joachim eyed him critically. "You had better. I wish I had seen you before tonight, we could have remedied this fashion disaster before…"

"My apologies, I appear to be late." The familiar ever-late voice sat on Leon's other side, his arrival taking both men by surprise.

"Not to worry," Leon assured him, "I'm glad you could make it, Alucard."

Alucard nodded to them both, politely reasserting, "I would prefer it if you referred to me as 'Arikado' when we are out in public."

Joachim blinked at him. "Why? It's not like we're in Japan. They're the only ones who really speak that way."

"True, people will probably just think you're trying too hard to be Gothic.  Or a weeaboo," Leon noted.

“A gothic weeaboo?” Joachim suggested.

“A gothic weeaboo,” Leon agreed, admiring the classy black suit Alucard chose to wear in public. Like Joachim, Alucard had decided to color his hair with the times, though typically he stayed to normal colors. Today it was black, completing his modern goth wardrobe.  

As a dhampire, Alucard had the good fortune of having many vampiric benefits from his father and immunity to the sun, a gift from his human mother. Despite said immunity, Alucard's skin was still frightfully pale.  

It was a pity.  Alucard would fit in remarkably well were it not for his skin and mesmerizingly piercing eyes.

Remembering who he had actually come here to meet, Leon questioned, "Did you bring the young one with you?"

Alucard nodded.

Leon looked around expectantly, but didn't see another soul in sight. "Where is he?"

"He's ordering something inside," Alucard finally said.

Knowing that Alucard was never much for words, Leon instead turned to Joachim, who appeared to be closely observing the tips of his hair. "I knew I shouldn't trust that discount brand. It's already washing out."

"But you're not even wet," Leon pointed out.

"I know!" Joachim snapped back.

Deciding that he really needed to evaluate the sanity of who he associated with better, Leon calmly sat and waited for the final member of their party to show.

Eventually, he emerged from the store, sipping his drink through a green straw. The youth wore faded flare jeans, only two unnecessary belts, a long-sleeved black turtleneck, and a white fur-collared trench coat, which he had draped casually over his shoulders.

Leon felt like reminding the boy that it was the middle of summer, but he didn't suppose that would matter to him. Instead, he offered his hand. "Soma Cruz, I presume? I've heard much about you. It's good to finally meet your acquaintance."

Like Joachim and Alucard, Soma appeared to be afflicted with terribly pale skin. His chin-length silver hair framed his face as he leaned down to take Leon's hand, and his cold grey eyes somehow seemed to hold more life to them than they should.

"No need to be so formal Mr…?" Soma said as he reached behind him without looking and grabbed a chair.  Easily, he swung it around the opposite way and straddled the seat, leaning forward on the backing of the metal chair.  During the entire chair flip, Soma continued to face them, his eyes never leaving Leon’s, and his lips never leaving his drink.

With talent like this, it was no wonder Soma had recently defeated Dracula.

"Leon Belmont, forget the Mr." Leon smiled at him, expecting the usual reaction when people in "the know" heard his full name.

Soma continued to sit in his chair sipping coffee. "Belmont? That's cool. I met Julius Belmont a while ago. Said he'd kill me if I became Dracula. You know him?"

"Both, I'm afraid, though it's been long since I've seen either." Leon admitted. He had meant to stop by for Julius's 30th birthday. He really had.

Soma grinned, "If I didn't win, you might be looking at Dracula right now."

At this, Alucard reached over and slapped Soma's hand without hesitation. "Don't speak of those things in public. It's terribly uncouth."

Soma rolled his eyes. "Yes, grandma, I'll make sure not to tell Leon-Fucking-Belmont that his great-great-great-great-great-great grandson beat my ass with his whip in MY fucking castle when I was ( temporarily) Dracula."

Leon sat aghast at the knowledge and language. Youth these days certainly were different.

Meanwhile, Joachim was grinning maniacally. "I like this one. Can I keep him?"

"No, Joachim, that's the caffeine and bloodlust talking," Leon sighed. "Just finish your coffee."

Joachim pouted, not denying either point, but muttered. "It's tea."

"So Leon, it's cool meeting you and all, but tell me, why'd you drag me out here?" Soma asked.

Not wasting time, Leon leaned in closer, glancing around them quickly to ensure that they wouldn't be overheard by anyone nearby. "Soma, for centuries now, I have helped my descendants defeat Dracula."

"That's cool, but ehh… wouldn't you be helping the other team by helping me?" Soma asked.

"I would be, if you didn't win," Leon said with a grim smile. He wondered how Soma would take his next sentence. "If you didn't win, I would be helping Julius defeat you right now."

Soma grinned at Alucard. "I like this guy, Allie. You don't fuck around with Leon-Fucking-Belmont!"

While Alucard grimaced in disapproval and Joachim dutifully drank his tea, Leon modestly replied, "thanks."

"So Leon, the day needs saving again, right? What've I gotta do this time?" Almost-but-not-quite-Dracula asked, biting his straw before taking another sip.

"I'm glad you asked." Really, Leon was.  Clearly, Soma was enthusiastic and ready to help.  Now that he knew Soma, he wasn't sure the rebellious teen would have cooperated otherwise. He leaned in closer, motioning for the other three to do the same. "Here's what we've got to do…"

LateNiteSlacker’s Notes:

Thank you for reading this far, and welcome to the first End-of-the-Chapter Trivia!  Feel free to challenge yourself to these questions. Comment with your answer if you like.  Don’t cheat and look online!  That spoils the fun. The real answer will be posted in the next chapter!

Chapter Trivia #1!

Should it be possible for these four to travel together? Why or why not?

[ongpinned-blog]

Binondo in 90 Minutes

by Julia Mae M. Catungal 

What do you do when you are tasked with exploring an exotic place with a loaded schedule and the afternoon sun glaring down at you? Why, you ditch the Google searches and Trip Advisors and just go wherever the heck your eager feet and famished guts take you. You’ll be delighted at how there are more than a few surprises along the way, and at the wonder of finding something unexpected and terrific on a whim, with one haphazard turn, or with a very fickle mind.

It was all very in the moment, when our Binondo expedition group was formed (and dispersed). Being a country bumpkin, I wasn’t quite sure of our travel path. Luckily, our group consisted of Manila locals. There are probably a number of ways on how to reach Binondo, some readily accessible to the public, and some opening its pathways to you which are unknown to many and only a few. Fortunately, for you and for me, we took the most convenient and cheapest route! If your starting point happens to be at Taft Avenue as well, then just catch a jeep going to Quiapo or Divisoria (if I am not mistaken…) and get off at Binondo church for just twelve pesos! Another budget-friendly and easy way is to go to Quirino LRT station and get off at Carriedo. From there, you can navigate your way to Binondo with your trusty guts and moody mobile data in case you get lost!

Arriving at the Binondo church, in front of a quaint grey and red building right in the middle of it all, my traveling companion and I parted from our initial Binondo expedition group and went our separate ways. Actually, I had been to Binondo before with my two lovely cousins who were astounded by the fact that I had never been to Binondo and so treated me to a sumptuous and fulfilling meal in the sketchy, lively Binondo streets at night. Unfortunately, I could not remember any of the restaurants we ate in except one. It was an easy recall as one of the restaurants happened to be located beside the Binondo church. Determined not to rely on my mobile phone and Internet connection, I took us there to a packed eatery with the yellow signage… Yes, my faulty memory is to blame, and unfortunately, I cannot remember the name of the place. But! It is easy to spot as it is situated along the column of shops and restaurants (facing the Binondo church) at the left side of the Binondo church.

My traveling companion and I were both too hungry and sweaty enough to just go with my guts, and enter the restaurant from my previous Binondo experience. Also, I had remembered what our cousins and I ate and drank. The place was air-conditioned and its meals affordable, not to mention there is a wall dedicated to celebrity photographs with the owner, telltale signs of a good place. For refreshments, I recommend their soya milk (Php45) or their Winter Melon Iced Tea (Php60). Originally, my cousins and I planned to eat at the best dumplings place in Binondo but found it closed that night, so my cousins settled for this restaurant. Their steamed vegetable dumplings are worth giving a try for just Php60. It tasted like the first legitimate dumplings I’ve had in my life then. My cousin said that it wasn’t as juicy and flavorful as the best dumplings in town, but it’s still a delicacy. The restaurant is also known for their rice meals, with the cheapest and best-seller Pork Chop rice meal priced at Php160. Almost everyone in that restaurant was having that, and being the gluttonous, impulsive buyer that I am, I had decided to get one for myself and boy, no regrets. It may have been the biggest slice of pork chop I had ever eaten in my life. Its batter was fried to crisp perfection, creating a yummy blend with the savory soy sauce (?) and of course, a generous serving of rice.

I think it’s fair to say you can find virtually everything you need in Binondo. In the same row of stores where the restaurant we ate in belonged to, we had already passed by a jewelry store, a novelty gift shop, and even a pet store. Not too far off from where we started, we had randomly entered a district of the same running theme: food and fruit stalls here, a Chinese pharmacy there, ooh, a mall over there, and even a condominium! In this tiny town, you’d never have to leave!

It was to a spark of wonder that my companion and I then stumbled upon a shrine. I'm not certain whether a shrine or altar is the appropriate term, but it would seem as if it was a hybrid of Christian and Buddhist beliefs. Encased within an alcove near the entrance of a street, an imposing golden cross sat with an elaborate necklace made of small white flowers and red ribbons laid over it. Ornamental flowers lay as offerings, and on the walls hung prayer guidelines. At the far-right corner, a candle burned beside a cylindrical container brimming with red incense sticks. And right at the center rested a golden pot for filled with burning red incense sticks. But perhaps it was the solemn mood created by the devout people gathered there that drew our attention the most. Considering that the Philippines' primary religion is Roman Catholicism, this wasn't so bizarre to see at the oldest Chinatown in the world. Not to mention Manila could also be considered a melting pot of rich culture, diverse religions (near Quiapo church is the Golden Mosque), and deeply-rooted traditions from the Chinese, Indian, Korean immigrants we have welcomed today.

After pausing and observing the people in front of the shrine/altar, we moved on to a narrow, crowded street with the auspicious color of red evident at every turn: red Chinese lanterns, red signages, red painted walls, red roofs. Early on, I had considered walking the alleys of Binondo to be a sensory overload as well. Aside from seeing red, the various tongues spoken there streamed through our ears, too––from Chinese folk music to passers-by speaking in Chinese (whether Cantonese, Mandarin, or Hokkien, I, of course, couldn't really tell). Our noses couldn't escape as well, particularly when we'd pass by a busy restaurant or the ornate bridges atop polluted rivers.

Any change of course we took, it would seem that business and commerce thrive, whether it be a populated avenue or sketchy alleyway. On that note, we returned to our ever-recurring theme of all-in-one alleys of Binondo. There was this particular alley we took that I was truly captivated by. It stretched for quite a length, with every step of the way an eye-opening experience. At first, I was struck with panic for a split-second or two as I had observed how sketchy-looking it seemed. Thank goodness my curiosity got the better of me, and we trudged on. We first passed by auto supply shops, auto repair and maintenance shops, and craft stores. It reminded me of Pandan street back in my hometown in Pampanga which specialized in wood works and auto supply shops as well. But, boy, was I mistaken. Imagine our wide stares as we stopped in our tracks in front of a dingy eatery selling exotic cuisine. Just outside lay their fresh (?) ingredients and rows of bite-size of god-knows-what in sticks. There were also both spacious and cramped tanks holding fish and crustaceans alike. Imagine our dismay when in addition to having a limited time of only two hours, we also only had a budget of three-hundred pesos, which we had prematurely spent on the first and only restaurant we went in.

After this all-in-one alley, we turned to another random street. I recall the name of the street: Escolta for the fact that at first, I had thought it was deserted compared to the previous streets we’ve walked. It provided the same auto supply and auto repair shops, but with a surprise snacks and milk tea restaurant at the other far end, and a KTV on the next street! That’s when I had confirmed that map or no, you’re guaranteed to find something new and exciting in Binondo wherever your feet and wanderlust take you. If I am not mistaken, I think we also passed by what I assume is the first branch of David’s Teahouse? I thought it was super cool that we did.

Our last stop was what I also assume as the jewelry district of Binondo. Gold and silver all around inside glass boxes where prospective and beady-eyed customers lean over and attentive storekeepers stand behind. It was at this particular area that I tightened my grip on my bag while my eyes flitted about caught by all the bling-bling. Unfortunately for us, time was ticking and we took our leave as quick as all the gold and silver would glimmer and catch your fancy.

It was probably luck and circumstance, but we eventually set ourselves on the way home. We had ended up in another shopping district situated on the flanks what I guessed as the main highway of Carriedo. We passed under the front facade of these buildings supported by aged pillars. Even then we gawked at antique and surplus shops, a movie house which shows… bold films, ukay-ukay and music stores, local obscure bakeries, and even a Puregold grocery.  From the familiar hustle of the highway, historic malls, and the overlapping train tracks above, I soon confirmed it as Carriedo and figured if we continued walking, we’d eventually reach the LRT station. It was kind of funny because we were actually nearer to Doroteo Jose station, and once we got there, we figured that we’d take the jeep again as my companion was in possession of a water bottle. We took the chance and swiftly got on the next jeep we saw, right on schedule as we had about fifteen minutes to spare for the ride back to campus. So, in actuality, we had spent roughly seventy-five enchanting minutes in Binondo.

[tgreuniverse]

re: [quest] Chapter 4 “sponse”

Hello!! This chapter is about Hori Chie and Tsukiyama Shuu and is very cute (happy birthday the other day, 2/25, to Hori, btw!!)♥

This post has Part 1 of the chapter in full under the cut (mainly for mobile users). The next parts are underway and I’ll do my best to keep things organized to link up.

Click here for my compilation of translations of the light novel re:quest

Finally, a disclaimer: I’d encourage anyone invested in the Tokyo Ghoul series to buy the official copies of this light novel and any official translations when they are released in your area to support the authors and publishers.

Thanks everyone for your patience and don’t hesitate to send me corrections/suggestions/asks and messages! – koko♥

Chapter 4: Sponse Part 1 Part 2 TL: Occasionally Tsukiyama throws in English or French words when he’s speaking. Anything that’s written in Roman letters in the original Japanese text will be bolded to indicate that it’s in another language. All other emphatic markings are for conveying regular emphasis.

   “Alright, now take a picture, of me!”    “Nahh,” Hori replied, and the conversation was over in 3 seconds. She was watching through the coffee shop’s big windows at the shopping street where people came and went, housewives buying things for dinner and hoisting bulky eco-bags on their shoulders.    Hori looked like an uncomfortable elementary school student in the chic and relaxed coffee shop where she sat. However, inside, she was already at the level of a college student. Well, actually, she almost never went to college, as she roamed from east to west as a “free camera-man” with her camera, her one hobby, always by her side.

    “Well, seems we’re done around here,” Hori said, standing just as she finished eating her parfait.    “Wait, Hori!” She paused. What made her stop was the man with a well-arranged appearance, somewhat like a model, and a voice that if you walked through town you could take to be from an entertainment industry – the man most annoying in the eyes of someone like Hori – Shuu Tsukiyama.    A man who was always prideful and focused on attention from his surroundings – marked by the [CCG] with the title “gourmet” ghoul, he really didn’t have much of an understanding of the world.    Indeed, the situation of such a ghoul known as Tsukiyama, having a face-to-face conversation with the human Hori Chie, was one you wouldn’t find anywhere else. Due to the strange situation, the two pretended to be high school students simply going out to the local coffee shop.    In high school, Hori’s evaluation of Tsukiyama’s pride did not come from second-hand gossip, but from her own deep curiosity about his differences from others. It came from her simple thought “well, this looks interesting” as she peered through her camera’s viewfinder. The result of which, it turned out, was her taking pictures of the gourmet ghoul’s predatory scene. One thing leading to another, this resulted in a pretty strange relationship.    Today, like most others, since a while ago, Tsukiyama had gone on and on about some favor he wanted to ask, and since Hori couldn’t exactly refuse as it became more and more annoying, well, here she was.    “Hori! Why on such a whim? It’s a favor from an old friend, so just sit for a bit and tell me what you want to eat, you little mouse.”    “Tsukiyama-kun, you always treat people like pets, don’t you? Hot cake.”    “Haha, so you were aware of being my pet! That lady right there, let’s ask her for a most supreme hot cake!” With that, Tsukiyama snapped his fingers and signaled the female server across the room. While Hori sat back down, he suddenly exclaimed, “Hori! Listen until the end of what I’m saying. This is business.”    “Business, huh?”    Hori had finished her drink, and with her straw, clinked around the milkshake’s ice at the bottom of her glass. With nothing better to do, Hori went back to listening.    “That’s right. In fact, this time, I want you to go to a villa.”    Hori released the straw and tilted her head. “Huh?”    Tsukiyama sighed. “Have I at last both been thrown away by Kaneki-kun and become dismissed by you?”    He, always pursuing some gastronomic meal to satisfy the tongue itself, was fascinated and obsessed with this one-eyed half-ghoul named Kaneki Ken.    Even after having had a relationship with Tsukiyama for a while, Hori had never before seen him stick to a single ingredient in such a way. Even now, he was working hard to earn Kaneki’s trust, but Hori believed he was still just trying to eat him. Since he was separated from his precious villa, Hori wondered if Kaneki was finally disgusted and had kicked Tsukiyama out.    “Haha! That’s nothing, nonsense. I am his dagger, and my heart is always his bedside.”    “You’ve prepared everything up to your house but everyone’s being removed from your circles?”    “If you were the patron like me, would you be concerned about everyone? This is a taste of being god.”    “I’m full. That story sounds long so I’m gonna go home”    “Wait wait, food is something that should be enjoyed at your leisure. Would you like some kind of after-tea?”    Hori sighed. “My orange juice is fine.”    With this Tsukiyama let out a cough and returned to what he was saying.    “I have a garden party at my villa on my next holiday, and I’m supposed to give a speech. I want you to put capture it with your camera.”    “Wha…?”    Tsukiyama was a ghoul of a respectable family, the descendent of the Tsukiyama Group that everyone had heard of at least once.    “Along with that, although this will be a surprise, I’m thinking of expressing everyday gratitude towards the servants in the house. To leave memories, you know?”    The Tsukiyama family, of course employees included, had a large number of people. I knew it, Hori thought, as she ate the hot cake that had finally arrived. The aspect of self-righteous egoism is often looked down on, but consideration for things one likes or for one’s self is fine, as such things have the potential to help one feel better in their own skin.    “Of course, you’ll be compensated. How is it, Hori? You’ll take the job, right?”    As a reply, Hori only groaned, “you really are annoying.”    “Haaaaaahn?!”    At Tsukiyama’s desolate voice, Hori said, “I’m not interested.”    Hori's photography activities were actually quite selfish. When she thought about taking photographs of an event of such high social value, she realized that would mean taking pictures with no real substance, and only taking work for the value of money. She definitely wasn’t one to be so influenced by money.    Right now she wasn’t in the mood to take pictures of things she wasn’t in the mood to, and wasn’t up for the tension of working for money at all.    At this point Tsukiyama, who knew from personal experience not to press Hori as she would continue to refuse (even in a case where it seemed likely she’d be killed), simply mused “hmmm.”    It seemed her orange juice was all gone, too. His time was almost up.    “Ahh, well then. Let’s see, Hori, do you have any interest in flowers?”    “Flowers?”    “Yes! At my family’s villa there are many varieties of flowers in bloom, in a vivid wide space, and it’s . . . it’s something like a utopia!!”    Tsukiyama, spreading both hands, began to gestured and gestured as he started explaining.    “There are many rare and valuable varieties, and the roses are particularly superb! The garden party this time will be done according to the season of the roses. There are so many scenic sights that you can see as you pass through.”    Hori stabbed her last piece with her fork. “. . . oh, ok. . . . I’ll go then.”    Tsukiyama’s unexpected palm hung open in the air. “So . . . you’re not against it anymore . . . then?    “I said, I’ll go,” Hori repeated.    Tsukiyama, who obviously hadn’t expected Hori to accept yet, seemed confused. “I wonder where this wind blew in from?”    “I just want to take pictures of flowers, and if Tsukiyama-kun’s place has roses, then that sounds good to me.”    Tsukiyama’s family paid attentive care to its rose garden, and although the rose garden was the only thing Tsukiyama recommended, Hori thought that maybe she could see ever more amazing things. Since she ended up deciding to go, she thought it would be interesting to go on a walk with Tsukiyama.    However, there was still one problem. “There will probably be ghouls at this party, right? Won’t I end up getting eaten?”    Although they did go out and talk ordinarily face-to-face, there was a clear border between Tsukiyama and Hori, that of being a person and a “ghoul.”    While Hori was greatly aware of the risk to her own life that she put into her photo activities, she didn’t particularly want to live a rushed life, and didn’t think anything like “I would die for my craft” or whatever.    In the moment, she had just gone with what she had wanted to do. But now she needed to tend to her safety.    “There’s no need to for you to worry about that. The servants will be told by me personally, and it will be arranged so that the guests know as well, that they must not lay a hand on you.”    “Okay. Well, it seems like there will be plenty of preparation, so I’ll take pictures of the good stuff, and I won’t when nothing happens. It will be done suitably.”    Hori stood up while stretching very much. “Well then, the next consecutive holidays. This time advanced payment would be nice, in the usual account.”    “Oui, I definitely won’t miss that. In return, I’m expecting amazing photos. Capture the moment when I shine the most!”    “The moment you shine the most, huh,” Hori repeated. With that, she slid the bill across the table to Tsukiyama and left the cafe.

[theliterateape]

Escaping The Crushing Need

by Don Hall

My mother-in-law is choking on a mouthful of half chewed Tostitos and she can’t breathe. She’s clawing at her throat and making the most horrifying sound I can recall. For a beat I think maybe I could just let her die right here. I violently shake that thought away like swatting away a hornet intent on plunging it’s stinger in my face and perform my best version of the Heimlich maneuver until she’s breathing again.

I’m sitting in a giant seafood place in Libertyville, IL with my four-year girlfriend and her sister who has Down Syndrome. My girlfriend is intentionally disdaining of her sister who is so disabled she can’t cut her food so I turn, smile, and assist. My girlfriend turns to me, frustrated at the attention being denied her and asks if I can go get her some iced tea because her own burgeoning disability is causing her pain. For a beat I think is this my life now? Care-taking two grown disabled women, both clawing for my affection? I determine at that moment that I will break up with them both in the near future.

I’m on the back porch of a home in Las Vegas purchased by a friend with so much physical disability he has a morphine bag surgically attached. He has once again undertaken a yard task that he is overwhelmed by and is looking at me with a mixture of spiteful pride, childish anger, and an unspoken demand that I help him. For a beat I think when we moved out here, he promised he would not live like an invalid hermit. That I would not be tasked with a constant state of supporting his hoarder whims. I help him but know that my time in this place cannot be defined by his crushing and incessant need.

✶

I’d like to think that I am, on the whole, a positive force in the tiny patch of the world I inhabit. I’d like to believe that I’m capable of being what Langston Hughes once wrote ‘of use.’ I’m 80% certain that if my mother or father became disabled enough that they needed me to function as a nurse, I would do it with no hesitation or if my wife was hit by a bus and struck down, I would be her arms and legs.

I don’t know and this bothers me.

✶

When I met my first wife and subsequently her family, I was greeted with her grandmother, an old battle-axe with a will of iron who’s daughter was a diagnosed schizophrenic and raised as an adult baby. Grandma had raised my wife as well and the tiny Texas home she kept was like a grungy nursing home after her granddaughter left for college.

By the time we had been married for nearly a decade, Grandma (who threw rocks and gravel at me while others tossed rice at our wedding) died and the subject of what to do about my severely overweight, child-like schizoid mother-in-law was broached. We decided to drive her up from Texas to live with us in Chicago because we didn’t know any better.

My wife suddenly found multiple reasons to be out of the house, leaving me as the recipient of a litany of desperate need. I had to put a padlock on the pantry because our new houseguest had such poor impulse control she would gorge herself on anything she could get her hands on (including but not limited to eating whole sticks of butter, jars of mayonnaise, and anything remotely resembling a cookie).

She was terrified of strange noises and would scream as if attacked if, while I was writing up in the attic and dared move enough to cause a squeak on the ceiling above her, she thought I was an intruder. When she didn’t get exactly what she wanted when she wanted it, like a 300 lb. toddler, she would throw an epic tantrum and accuse me of abusing her.

For months I walked around my home as if any sharp turn might awaken the non-stop fulfilling of almost anything this broken person could conceive. This is not what I want for my life, this is not who I am supposed to be.

The breaking point came when, after she had managed to find a bag of Tostitos and sat in a chair in the living room, shoving whole handfuls into her mouth, barely chewing them, and swallowing the jagged pieces, she started to choke.

I’d like to believe that the brief thought of letting her die at that moment was Not Me but it was Me. The thought of pretending I was out in the yard and came up to find her dead on the floor was like an addict contemplating a fix. Like Papillon staring over the cliff into the sea, the idea of escape was seductive.

The steps then taken to immediately find her a home (as in nursing, old folks, or retirement) were necessary and deliberate and, ultimately, doomed any hope that the marriage would last much longer following.

✶

Alice both loved and hated her sister, Julie. Julie was older than she and lived on a ranch facility with others afflicted with Down Syndrome. When I met Julie, she immediately started asking me if I was her boyfriend. When we would pick her up for a visit — to the zoo, to a restaurant she liked, to a movie — Alice would stare into her phone, occasionally bark an order at either Julie or me, and put the digital blinders on.

As time trampled on, I found that, as far as Julie was concerned, I was her boyfriend. I walked with her while Alice stomped out ahead of us. I made sure her seat belt was buckled. I made sure she had the exact food she wanted and helped her eat it. When she would come to stay with us for weekends, I washed her clothes, washed her face, tucked her into bed.

As it was only once in awhile, it didn’t seem too much until, in a bizarre method of sharing, Alice wrote an essay about her own chronic condition which she had been hiding from me for four years and was, according to the essay she asked me to proofread, was bound to get worse. The possibility of her needing a wheelchair in the near future was mentioned.

This is not fucking fair. We’ve been together under false pretenses and I’m now expected to be the ‘good boyfriend’ to two slowly declining grown women, both requiring my full attention and prone to demanding things rather than requesting help. If I leave, I’m a monster. If I stay, I’ve been consigned to a life of servitude.

I chose monster and left. It didn’t go well.

✶

Prior to moving to Las Vegas, I was frank with Matthew.

“Dude, to be clear, I’m not looking to live with an invalid hermit. I know that’s harsh but you’ve spent the past five years or so building out your house so that you really never have to leave. You sleep in the living room, in your bedroom, in a chair. There are Mountain Dew bottles, half drunk, everywhere and the only friends you seem to have are people whom you pay to come over to help you with projects that you get too tired to finish.”

“You’re right and I want to change things. I want a social life and a girlfriend. I think Vegas is exactly the new beginning I need.”

Either he was lying to me or to himself or both.

I should have seen the sign of things to come at Christmastime, a month and change before we moved to the desert. My wife and he went to go get a tree. His bizarre hoarding tendency was tools and maintenance stuff so a trip to Home Depot became an epic journey through every aisle as he contemplated buying yet another cordless drill or a roll of bubble wrap. Dana was frustrated at what became another wasted evening following him around amidst the bargain tool sections so she found a tree, bought it, and put it on top of his truck before he had turned into the final aisle. He was furious. He wanted to pick the tree out. He wanted a much bigger tree despite us all moving out in a month.

Dana and I decorated the now hated tree and he refused to even look at it. He pouted around, mumbling about what a shitty tree it was until, while we were away in Kansas, he tore it down, threw all of our ornaments into a now lost box, and trashed it.

By the time we landed on the vistas of the Mojave, this tendency was manifest. He let Dana, myself, and his long-time roommate from Chicago, Kelli, unpack the huge semi-truckload of his belongings without even bothering to show up until three days later. He struggled to set things up for his physical ease in exactly the same way he had done in Chicago. He constantly complained about not being invited to outings that he inevitably was never interested in attending. He was disabled and it made him angry. He would pull me aside to talk about his desire to kill himself, his own self-loathing, his hatred for his new house, his new neighborhood, the heat, and Las Vegas in general. Unlike the tree, he couldn’t just trash an entire city in a fit of pique so he stewed and complained.

He would offer us all money to go buy him cigarettes and Mountain Dew rather than walk a few blocks to get it himself. He would sleep in the middle of the day in the living room with migraines and then totter around at night, using his power tools while the rest of us tried to sleep. He hired a local handyman to build him a shed for all of these tools. Once it was filled, he decided he needed another shed. While he constantly complained about money, he continued to spend thousands on more hardware, half-baked and unfinished projects, and new appliances.

This is not the life I bargained for. His need and anger is more than I want to deal with. We have to get out of the place if it’s the last thing we ever do.

Dana and I decided to move out. He and I stopped speaking to one another after, for a third time, he told me that Dana was crazy and needed professional help. We gave him notice and he turned off our access to the internet. Three weeks later, we were out. Almost seconds from when we left, Kelli decided she couldn’t take it anymore and asked us to help her find her own place. By the time we moved her, he came out to unlock the place so I could get the futon we gave her with a pistol on his hip, as if sitting around by himself in his rage and desperation fueled paranoia and conspiracy theories about the three of us.

✶

At 53, I’m still in solid shape and my health is pretty good. I suspect that there will come a time in a future that is closer than I’d like to imagine, when I may be saddled with my own disability: being old. If there’s anything I’ve learned is that I do not want to burden others with my need. I have faced that sort of narcissistic pain from others and I cannot, in good conscience, expect the people in my life to bow down in abeyance to my infirmity.

I’d rather be hit by a bolt of lightning and fried dead on the spot.