#3: I really really do hope that my blog can be a place of respite right now

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[awesomerextyphoon]

A Warrior’s Heart | Phase 1: Welcome – 3

A Hero’s Welcome?

Summary: When someone with a connection to Steve’s past dies, he’s reminded of the promise he made to Dr. Erskine and whether or not he’s failed. Can Ife help him see that he hasn’t?

Characters: Steve Rogers, Ifekerenma ‘Ife’, Abraham Erskine (mentioned), Marlene Erskine (mentioned), Nick Fury, Eliza Maza, Azeneth Ramirez

Main Pairing: Stucky x Black!OFC (Ifekerenma ‘Ife’)

Rating: 18+/Explicit

Word Count: 5,801

Warnings: Depression, Talk of Death, Slightly Cynical Steve, Politics, Smutty Thoughts

A/N: I’m sorry that this so long. I really wanted to try something different with Erskine and the time around CA:TFA. Also, I wanted to explore how Steve would be feeling right after AoU (little bit of a downer, but it will get better). Furthermore, this story will diverge a bit from MCU in terms of Steve’s and Bucky’s abilities. Feedback is welcomed and greatly appreciated. Dividers were by the lovely @firefly-graphics​. Thanks to @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ for the beta!

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Early June 2015

“What do you have to report, Ifekerenma?”

Ife pursed her lips together,”Wanda is doing well with her training. Djamila and Nazaret had some sung her praises during their first session.”

It took a few days to convince the team and Fury to let her friends train Wanda. Luckily Nat had her back and Wanda was able to show the compound how much she improved from what Ife was able to teach her. Unfortunately, Azeneth was unable to make it due to being tied up with a BNA mission and relocating to the NYC division.

“That’s good to hear. Have you made made any progress with the others?”

Ife’s eyes casted down in thought. Vision was a no-go for now. Pietro was warming up to her, but he thought she was still suspicious (wasn’t wrong). She didn’t want to try Rhodey yet (too close to Tony). Nat was..difficult; she’ll try again later.

“I’m going to try Steve next. He seems like a safe bet, even with the serum. Hopefully, he won’t catch before it’s time. I will need Erskine’s folder though.”

Eliza’s lips turned upward in a small smile, “Agreed. I’ll have it sent to you within the hour. Best of luck, Ife.”

And with that, Ife got dressed and headed towards the common room.

  Steve leaned back and clasped his hands together behind his head in thought and vexation.

The 21st century must be fucking with him.

Right after Operation ‘Captain Briar Rose’, Steve went to Brooklyn. He could barely find any trace of his old neighborhood. The apartment complex where he and his mother lived was now a ritzy condominium with a Starbucks on the ground level.

All of the places he’d go with Bucky were now soulless veneers filled with empty promises of ‘happiness’ or ‘self-esteem’.

He remembered the time Bucky bailed him out of yet another beating by Arnie and his gang back in 1928. His mother berated him for getting in yet another fight while Bucky’s mom laughed and treated them to ice cream from the local sweets parlor. Bucky’s sisters – Rebecca, Rose, and Annabelle – were making a fuss and bursted out in giggles when Annabelle got ice cream in Bucky’s hair. It was one of the best days that year.

A T-Mobile now stands in its place.

All of his friends and comrades save Bucky and Peggy are dead; he nearly bawled in the middle of briefing when found out that Timothy ‘Dum Dum’ Dugan died and had a cry alone in his quarters afterwards.

Felt shitty about the current state of the country. It seemed as though everything has gotten worse. He found out about the Gulf, Afghanistan, and Iraq Wars. How income and wealth inequality has somehow gotten as bad as, if not worse, than the Gilded Age. Corruption has turned DC and NYC into dog and pony show.

He was furious at all of the politicians and corporations that wanted him to endorse them or their actions. They wanted Captain America’s helmet and shield to mask their heinous acts. They were the same if not worse than Senator Brandt.

Some days Steve wished SHIELD let him stay in the ice. Even worse, there were days he felt that Captain America was for an America that never was.

Nowadays, he felt even more like an anomaly.

It started when he got out of the ice. He felt a lot stronger and faster; only Thor knew the extent of it and he has to hold back a lot when fighting for fear of government asking for more of his blood. Though he suspected Ife and Natasha might be onto him.

He was a lot hungrier than before he went on ice as well. Often time, he would have late night ‘dinners’ (now it's every night), To be honest, he was a bit embarrassed at how much he ate, though the thought of pinning the blame on Ife did cross his mind. It wouldn’t work due to Ife almost never eating with the team and Sam said that he would know if Ife was the culprit. Steve suspected that Ife has been using her connections to restock the food between when he retired to his quarters and before the rest of the team came for breakfast. Also, she kept leaving him fun pop culture facts and media recommendations for the night.

Steve didn’t feel he could go to Dr. Cho since he doubted she had anything to go on in his case.

He did wonder if Ife could help him. She seemed to like helping the team and she was knowledgable about Non-Humans. Wanda’s rapid improvement in her powers and control bolstered his decision.

Sighing, Steve sat up straight in his chair and picked up the letter he received that morning. Marlene Philomena Erskine had passed away and he was invited to her funeral.

It was sad to have yet another link to his past slip from his grasp.

  Steve was finishing up another book to fight off his jitters. It was the night before the operation and he needed to have a few moments of respite from the war.

He was so engrossed in what he was reading that he failed to notice Dr. Erskine entering.

Erskine, for his part, was eyeing several books in Rogers’ makeshift bookshelf: They Odyssey, Of Mice and Men, Murder on the Orient Express, Tender is the Night, Their Eyes Were Watching God, Homage to Catalonia, and To Have and have Not.

“What do you think of the book?” Erskine asked as he sat across the startled recruit.

“Just finished. Y’think it wise to get buzzed before a major operation, sir?” Steve noted when he saw the bottle and two shot glasses on the bed.

Erskine chucked, “Calms my nerves a bit. What did you think of the book?”

Steve pressed his lips together for a moment, “It was a good read. The book had a lot of good points for something written eleven years ago.”

“What truths?”

“Well, for one thing, how technology is used to make the populace happy, but not better. The World Government found a way to get people to willingly trade self-expression, self-awareness, and their happiness for cheap happiness and comfort. Makes you wonder if the US was next, you know?”

Erskine was taken aback by his answer. It was much deeper than most of commanding officers gave if they even read the book.

Though that last sentence was interesting.

“What do you mean next?”

“Isn’t that what happened in Germany?”

Erskine sighed, “Yes and no. Most people here think Hitler came out of nowhere, but he didn’t. Not everyone in Germany was for WWI. There was a 100,000 person march in Berlin, but it didn’t matter since the Social Democratic Party failed to rise to the occasion and went along with war effort. Many were scapegoated for Germany failure, Matthias Erzberger for instance.”

“What about the Weimar Republic?”

Once again, Erskine was taken aback by Steve’s knowledge, “Weimar Germany was a great place to be creative, curious, and make new discoveries. I met my wife, Greta, in Berlin during that time. I made a lot of friends, friends I had to leave behind.”

Erskine frowned as his face darkened,”The terrible thing, my friend, was not that Hitler was dangerous, it was that either people didn’t take him as the threat he was or they wanted to use him for their own ends. The cops and judges sympathized with the Nazi Party to get one over the Socialists and Communists. Industrialists wanted to make money off of the Nazis getting into power. Even the German and International newspapers didn’t cover him with the urgency required.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Ja, and it almost happened here, didn’t it?”

Steve nodded in reference to the America First movement and the German American Bund. He still remembers getting the crap beaten out of him by the Silver Shirts when he spoke out against them a few years ago.

“So why did you choose me?”

“I suppose that is the best question.” Erskine admitted while glancing at Steve’s bookshelf, “What do you think of the Odyssey?”

Steve shrugged, “The adventures were fun, but they were just fantasy.”

“They may not be, Mein Freund. How old do you think I am?”

“Uh, mid sixties?”

Erskine laughed, “You’re too kind. I will be 94 this September,” he smiled noting Steve’s shock, “Things are not always as they seem. I come from a long line of ‘healers’ dating back to before Rome. One of them was able to ‘make a man more’. They inspired me to go into this profession.”

“Making super soldiers?”

“Medicine and bio-chemical engineering.”

“Oh”

“Did you know that you will not be first to undergo this?”

“Who was?”

“His name was Konrad Jager. He was a lot like you: small, frail, but had a great deal of courage and compassion. He was willing to fight Nazis in the streets knowing he’d lose. One day in 1930, his parents begged me to save him as the doctors had given up all hope.

I was woking on a serum that would make the body impervious to all diseases rather than wait for the next outbreak to occur. I thought it would propel the medical field.

The trial worked and he was healed. He became much taller and broader in size as a result.”

Erskine pulled out a picture of himself next to a tall, well-built young man.

“That’s Konrad isn’t it?”

“Yes. I was able to help eight more people through the earlier version of the serum. All but one turned out well.”

“What happened to the one?”

“Ah yes, Eren Kant. He was a shy young man before the serum, but then became more like Hodge: a philander, arrogant, and bit of a bully with a temper. He ‘grew too big for his britches’ as one would say and was arrested by the Munich police. He let his arrogance blind him and he escaped in a way that intrigued Der Fuhrer and was taken to Berlin soon after. By this time, rumors had spread of my work and the Nazis were anxious to be the ‘best of the Aryans’. They were able to get my whereabouts from Eren and sent Schmitt to fetch me, but I was already on my way to Switzerland when he reached my home.”

“How did he get you?”

Erskine slightly jerked his head to the side and back, “A year prior to my attempted escape, I met a man in Geneva who warned of the dangers that lied in Berlin. He gave me his card if I needed to escape. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have waited so long before I made the phone call. I was tipped off by an old colleague of Eren entering Nazi custody.

Everything was set. My family and I were to enter Switzerland by crossing Lake Constance. We made it to Meerburg and the lake was in sight when Schmitt and his agents cut us off.

Schmitt believed that there was a power left behind by the gods. He believed himself to be a leader of a new race of men. He wanted me to ‘perfect the serum’, make him stronger than Eren. He had my children, Klaus and Marlene, taken to the outskirts of town as insurance implying that they would be sent to Dachau if I should fail.

I stalled for as long as I could hoping Schmitt would forget about me, but it was not meant to be. A few years after I was taken hostage, Schmitt stormed into my lab and pointed a gun to Greta demanding I give him the serum.”

“Did it make him stronger than Eren?”

“It did, but it had...side effects. The serum was not ready. Schmitt’s skin turned red and his face became so disfigured that Hitler called him the Red Skull. He killed Greta with his bare hands,” Erskine wiped away a few tears, “and ordered Marlene and Klaus to be sent to Dachau while I was banished to the dungeons.

Fortunately, Agent Carter and the SOE were able to save Marlene and myself. Though Klaus sacrificed himself when the agents could only save one of them.”

“Your son is a hero.”

“I only wish I could’ve told him that myself. But, back to your original question. I chose you because, like Konrad, you are a weak man. You see, the serum amplifies everything; good becomes great and awe-inspiring, bad becomes worse and a nightmare. Men who are strong their entire lives often do not value strength and abuses it. However, a weak man who is compassionate and brave will use it to help others. You were chosen because you had the aforementioned virtues and because you use your mind.

The world does not need perfect soldiers, look where that has gotten us. No, what we need right now are good men.”

Erskine poured out two shots and gave a glass to Steve.

Steve raised his glass, “To the little guys.”

The liquor was just about to touch his lips when Erskine snatched the glass from him, “What are you doing? You have an operation tomorrow. No fluids.”

Steve chuckled as Erskine bid him farewell and good luck tomorrow.

  Ife found Steve in the Common Room hunched over a chair with a letter in his hands. Emotional echoes of gloom came off in waves as she approached him.

“Whatcha looking at, Steve?”

When Steve didn’t respond, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

Steve finally turned to Ife, “I received an invite to a funeral. It’s for Marlene Philomena Erskine, Dr. Abraham Erskine’s daughter.”

Ife nodded in understanding; he feels that he failed Marlene by not protecting Dr. Abraham Erskine.

But in fact, he didn’t fail her.

She lived quite the life for a human.

Not long after her father’s assassination, Marlene became a badass mechanical engineer and physicist. Her designs and schematics for transportation vehicles and energy storage/distribution gave the colonizer nations a fighting chance during the Wars Against Colonialism.

Though part of it was because the UA was a little cocky at that point. Marlene sure lit a fire under their ass! Ife can still hear her Aunt Eziamaka pouting at the news of one of UA bases nearly falling into their control.

Marlene’s assistance with the war effort didn’t last long as her gratitude towards the people who saved both her and her father wasn’t enough to overlook the Military’s treatment of some her colleagues.

Her life from there was pretty standard. She became a professor at MIT, got married and had a few kids.

BNA took her off the ‘humans of special interest’ list in 1971.

Thinking back on it, Marlene may have had a better life by her father not making it past WWII.

Though Ife thought it would be wise not to mention this to Steve.

“When is the funeral?”

Steve didn’t raise his head, “It’s in a week.”

“In that case, might I accompany you?”

“Yes...and thank you.”

“No Problem! See you later.” Ife wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug and went on her way leaving Steve slightly bewildered.

  Steve didn’t know what to make of Ifekerenma.

She was always asked the team how they were feeling at what seemed to be the right moment. Shoot, she even talked to custodial staff that few of ever acknowledge. Compassionate to nearly everyone, especially the child hostages during the last mission.

She’s nerdy to the point of Sam jokingly calling her a weeb (anime lover?) when she walked around in an oversized Cowboy Bebop t-shirt once. Wanda mentioned a ‘digital friend’ in her room and caught her mentioning how slow Stark’s tech was much to the amusement of team at Tony’s expense.

Steve’s certain Nat sent Clint a video of the whole thing.

Also, she was what Sam called a ‘Supreme Chef’. He contently patted his midsection remembering the feast she prepared for the team last night. Her cooking would’ve put some of Stark’s gourmet chefs to shame. She asked the team what they liked and she ended up having to create a dinner rotation. Steve was especially touched when she went to an antique bookstore for a recipe that was close to what his mother would’ve made for him.

Furthermore, she would leave out little homemade treats/ snacks at night. Pietro and Sam would sneak some when they thought no one was looking. She even giggled when he accidentally let out a huge belch after an amazing dinner a couple nights ago saying it’s a sign of thanks on her home planet, Avlenia.

Ife always called him Steve; not ‘Captain’ or ‘Cap’ or even ‘Good ol’Century Virgin’ (damn it, Tony!). She never made light of him ‘taking an ice nap’ or asking him about the 1940s in a demeaning way like some reporters and ‘little upstarts on social media’. Somehow, Ife found out about his love of drawing and got him art supplies with a list of recommended artists

She made him feel more like a person and not a symbol or a far off figure who’s emotionless.

Steve felt warm whenever he was around her in a way not unlike Bucky or Peggy though much more like Bucky. She seemed to sense that he was desperate to truly be seen in way that only Sam and sometimes Nat has.

It also didn’t hurt that she was a total knockout. He had the, ahem, pleasure of seeing her out of her uniform and training outfits a few times. She usually wore clothes that were more on the modest side...except for that one time when she wore a Sailor Moon crop top and high-waisted shorts as a dare from Nat. Half of the compound was staring and Steve spent most of the day in his quarters nursing a hard on he was so aroused.

And yet, Ife was one of the toughest women he knew; even Nat was a little scared of her (at least, he thinks). She might be the strongest person physically and she doesn’t take shit from people who badmouth her or the team; Agent Roussel learned that the hard way.

All in all, Ife was...something else, someone he wanted to get close to.

  The day of Marlene’s funeral started out well enough.

Ife spent the early morning making Sam’s request of cinnamon rolls, sausage, omelettes, waffles, and hash browns since he won the raffle of Vision’s turn as he doesn’t eat.

She was handing out everyone’s first servings (didn’t care what happened afterwards) when she felt Steve’s emotional echoes of depression, melancholy, and despair noting how his eyebrows furrowed and how tense his body language was.

She just hoped she could get to him.

  Steve was walking to garage hoping his outfit wasn’t too much.

Nat somehow convinced him into wearing a Highbridge Black Custom Suit with an Eastley Dobbey Blue Shirt, a Black Solid Tie, a Navy Blue Pocket Square, and Ink Black Dress Shoes.

He ‘upped the swoon dial’ as Nat put it. Could’ve sworn he heard Sam snickering.

Steve reached the entrance hoping not to keep Ife waiting when he heard clicking of heels behind him.

He turned around to find Ife looking almost unearthly.

She was wearing a black Ankara (?) dress with a cape that was black on the outside and golden on the inside with various blue, silver, and khaki rectangle clusters. Her hair was mostly contained in a wrap with a few strands framing her lovely face. Her full, plump lips were coated in a Light Plum (?) Matte Lipstick and she wore minimal gold eye shadow.

Her outfit did a splendid job of hinting at her voluptuous curves without needlessly flaunting them like the women who throw themselves at him at press tours.

Ife smiled at him and asked which car were they taking.

Steve motioned to one of the Black SUVs and the two of them strapped in for the three hour car ride.

  Ife sighed and gazed out the window at the scenery. Neither one of them had said anything in the past twenty minutes. Steve wasn’t a fan of most of the music that’s on the radio despite Sam’s best efforts. Ife had to break out her puppy dog eyes to get him to let them listen to some instrumental music from her favorite movies.

It seemed that they weren’t going to say anything until Steve cleared his throat.

Ife, not wanting to suffer in silence, decided break it, “How did you know Marlene?”

Steve raided his eyebrows for a split second, “I didn’t. I just feel like I should pay my respects, you know? I mean, I should attend the daughter of the man I failed’s funeral.”

The last sentence struck a chord with Ife. Emotional echoes of despair hit her like a tsunami.

Tentatively, Ife continued, “How did you fail Erskine?”

“I-I don’t think I’ve fulfilled my promise to him. The country has changed so much since I was on ice. It’s funny; I thought that Brave New World would only have a one of two aspects come to life, but I didn’t see nearly the whole book being right.”

Ife didn’t argue with the last two points. The US was nothing but a never-ending commercial sometimes. People were too busy being ‘happy’ or trying to get the newest thrill to realize that they were living in a sham of a republic.

Though she was concerned about the first sentence.

“What was the promise you made to Erskine? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Steve turned slightly, “To be true to who I am; a good man, not a perfect soldier. To be more like Konrad.”

Ife nodded musing on his answer. Erskine would want everyone he helped to be a good person considering the dangers of such power.

Though she wondered if she knew Dr Abraham’s full history.

Abraham Erskine came from a long line of Homo Magis who specialized in Alchemy . He turned to science when it was clear that his magical powers would never manifest (being only 1/16 Homo Magi). Erskine started working on what would become the Super Soldier Serum in 1920 after the witnessing the horrors of WWI firsthand as a medic.

He made a breakthrough in 1927 when he found what looked to be an old power cell in the attic of his childhood home. Turns out it was a modified Atlantean battery dating back to the 1600s, but whatever.

Konrad Jager was the first of nine volunteers; most of whom went on to fight in the Spanish Civil War with the International Brigades and be part of the German Resistance’s Special Forces during WWII.

Needless to say, they were recruited into BNA’s European Division.

Only Eren Kant was deemed a failure in the end.

Ife shook her head at the info in Erskine’s folder.

Eren was pompous dumbass who broke himself out jail by bending/breaking the bars of his cell after getting arrested for being a player and bully by the Munich Police in August of 1935. His show of superhuman strength got Erskine’s work onto the Hitler’s radar. BNA had to send a cleaner to ‘handle’ Eren before he could get everyone in even more trouble.

She wondered if Konrad and the others would make an appearance.

“What do mean by not staying true to yourself?”

Steve sighed, “It seemed a lot easier to do so in my time.”

Ife wanted to go further, but she couldn’t. Steve was punishing himself up for something he couldn't control and it was tragic.

She hoped that she could actually help him, not for the mission, but for himself.

  They arrived at the venue twenty minutes early. Steve was trying (failing) to fix his tie while Ife was looking as glamorous and poised as can be.

Sensing Steve’s unease, she gave his hand a comforting squeeze, “You’ll do fine,” she whispered as she fixed his tie while not trying inhale his delicious natural scent like a creep (again).

“Let’s go inside.”

  Everyone seemed to stop what they were doing when they entered the venue. Though Ife had to hand it to the guests; no one asked Steve for an autograph or a selfie. She noted several BNA officials and a couple of Earth-based Non-Human big wigs in attendance.

Guess Marlene was popular.

“Ife!” Azeneth shouted as she strode over to from a corner and enveloped her in a hug.

“Azeneth, how are you? I didn’t think you would be back from Mexico City so soon.”

“Well, the mission was short and they wanted me in New York to accompany Eliza here. Now, who is this fine gentleman, Ife?” Azeneth queried while Steve started shifting uncomfortably.

“This is Steve Rogers, one of my new teammates and Ca-”

“Captain America. I know, Ife. I was jesting.”

Ife sighed dramatically while rolling her eyes, “Steve, this is Azeneth. She’s one of my best Earth-based friends.”

“Kickass friend.” Azeneth corrected, “How are you liking Ife? She’s not too much trouble.”

“Stop it, ‘Aze!” Ife playfully hit Azeneth’s shoulder, “Feel free to ignore her, Steve.”

“Hmm, no. I don’t think I will, especially after the stunt you pulled on the first day at the compound.”

Azeneth burst out laughing at Ife’s shocked expression and Steve’s sly grin. She probably would’ve kept goin if not for Eliza cutting into their conversation.

“Excuse us, Mr. Rogers. I’ll have to speak with Ife for a moment. My name’s Eliza Maza, by the way.”

  Once they were out of Steve’s line of sight (Azeneth was keeping him busy), Eliza activated a noise canceller.

“So did anyone die in the attack on the Magic Council?” Ife asked as she made sure Steve wasn’t looking at them.

“No one was harmed, but several books are missing from the library.”

“Shit! Okay. Well, would Dr. Strange be available to assist Wanda with her training? Wong and Nazaret are at the Sanctum and he said that he knew of some spells that could help.”

“I’ll look into it. I should have an answer in a week”

“Okay.”

“Ife, please give me a call when you get back to the compound.”

Ife eyed Konrad Jager, Gregor Eisenberg, Sonje Decker, and Lukas Denhart making their way to Steve. She hoped they weren’t going to drop an info bomb on him today.

“I will.”

  The service was short and sweet as Marlene didn’t want everyone to be bored to tears on her behalf. The crowd got a laugh out that joke.

Afterwards, Marlene granddaughter, Zahara, requested if Steve could stay for a bit. She gave him a beautifully wrapped package.

“My grandmother wanted you to have this. She saw you fighting in the Battle of New York and knew you would know what to do with it.”

“It would be an honor, Miss.”

  Ife thought about her earlier conversation with Steve on the say back. She realized what’s happened to Steve was heartbreaking.

Here was a man who gave up everything for a country that only wants him as a cudgel for their heinous deeds. Someone who, if he hadn’t fallen into the ice, would’ve probably been ruined by the same country he swore to protect. They would’ve labeled him as a communist and destroyed his good name for not immediately getting on board with the next war.

To be honest, Ife didn’t think much of Steve before joining the team. She thought he was just the banner boy for colonizers to feel good; he was the reminder of that brief moment when the US was totally the bad guys (totally being the operative word).

But now?

She saw the toll the helmet and shield had on him. Ife doubted he knew that he was going to be alive for awhile judging how neither Konrad or the others aged a day since they received Serum 1.0 and Steve supposedly got one that was at least 3x as powerful.

She wanted to comfort him somehow, but she was lost on what to do.

When she got back to the compound, she gave Steve a hug and went straight to her quarters to call Eliza.

“Eliza. I can’t do this by myself, and if we’re going to pull this off, I’m going to need some serious backup because the Avengers need some serious help.”

  Fury was going through some mission reports when he heard a knock on his door.

“Come in.”

Oddly enough, Ife was the one to enter the room and not Maria Hill.

“Good Evening, Fury. I have someone who would like speak with you.”

“Well, give me a name and contact info and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Actually,” Ife reached in her pocket for a disc, “I can do you one better.”

Ife tossed the disc into the air and a moon-door portal formed from it. Out came Eliza, Azeneth, and Angela in her gargoyle form.

Eliza gave Ife a quick nod and turned to Fury, “Good Evening, Nicolas Fury. My name is Eliza Maza and we’re from the Bureau of Non-Human Affairs or BNA. I would advice that you lower your weapon. It won’t do you a lick of good,” Fury lowered his gun,” Good. Put Maria Rambeau on speaker, we need to talk.”

  -Somewhere in France-

 Maeve was enjoying her brunch while watching the footage of Eliza officially making contact with new SHIELD and SWORD.

“Well, it looks like it’s time to ‘get the band back together’ as the kids would say.” She chirped to the woman across the table.

“That expression pretty much died in the 90s. No ‘kid’ uses that phrase anymore.” Koronis deadpanned.

Maeve scoffed, “Anyone born after 1800 is a ‘child’ to me. This is what I get for trying not to sound like ‘an old hag’ as you put it.”

“Well, is everything on track?”

Koronis, or Carol, closed her eyes for few seconds, “I see nothing standing in our organization’s way. However, we should have the meeting sooner rather than later.”

“Duly noted. Anything else?”

“The new variable, Ifekerenma, will be more useful to our plans than I originally anticipated.”

“Oh, I do love surprises! I mean, I know how it will end, but I still like to be at least a little surprised. I knew it was a good idea to let Klaue be discovered by Ultron in Istanbul!”

Another woman walked up to the pair,”You wanted to see me, Mistress?”

“Yes. Svetlana, call the others. It’s time to put our plan into high gear. Hell’s Moon is upon us.”

  Steve was having a shitty birthday.

The press was pestering him about the presidential election. Several outlets have called him a sellout and a coward for not endorsing anyone.

He was figuring out the best way to take a shower and hit the hay in less than 30 minutes when he found a beautifully written note taped to his door.

It said to come to Ife room wearing his best dancing clothes.

Ten minutes later, Steve knocked on her door and it instantly opened to reveal a modest dancing hall not unlike the ones he went to with Bucky before the war.

He was so lost in thoughts admiring the place that he failed to notice Ife hovering a few feet from him.

“Happy Birthday, Steve! How do you like it?”

Steve turned to see Ife in a knee-length golden yellow African Wax Print Ankara dress with cold shoulders, ruffled sleeves, and a v-neckline. He didn’t miss the modest view of her cleavage or how her legs looked oh, so smooth in the dress.

Ife, for her part, was super nervous about this. Nat said that people went to dance halls all the time in the late 1930s and 1940s and it took her five days to get the architecture, the music, and the lighting just right.

She hoped that Steve wouldn’t be angry with her.

Steve looked incredibly handsome in his simple dress shirt and slacks. His powerful shoulders, thick biceps, trim waist, and beefy thighs were accentuated by the lighting which made him look like he was glowing.

Ife would’ve drooled if she knew that he didn’t like it when most women would throw themselves at him.

“It’s amazing. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry about the dress. I couldn-”

Steve raised a hand to stop her from going off on a tangent,”You look beautiful.”

Ife felt a flurry of warmth in her core at the compliment.

“So, what would like to do?”

Before Steve could answer, Duke Ellington’s Don’t Mean a Thing starting playing.

Steve stretched out his hand, “Would you like to dance?”

Ife took his had and they glided onto the dance floor.

“Where did you learn to dance?”

“Bucky’s mom made us learn when Bucky started getting attention from the girls at school. She thought it best that we knew how to treat them to a good time.”

“I see,” Ife giggled, “Then she was wise to make take the lessons. Though I’m more familiar with the jitterbug.”

Steve chuckled as they resumed swinging. He hummed a bit as they danced to Ella Fitzgerald, Caro Emerald, Jo Stafford, Billie Holiday, and Gene Krupa.

Ife was impressed with Steve’s dancing skills. What were those women thinking passing him up like that?!

After a couple more rounds of dancing, the music shifted to something more modern but not (it was Howl’s Moving Castle’s Main Theme) , the colors on the walls and ceiling brightened, and several chandeliers formed on the ceiling.

Steve gave Ife a slightly confused look and asked her if she would like to try a waltz this time.

The song lasted a little more than five minutes. Steve was somehow able to lead their movements in sync with the song.

Ife felt her body was aflame with gentle yet commanding touches Steve was giving her. He even lifted her a few times making her feel as though she was flying with how gently he held her.

They were absorbed in their own world they either failed to notice or ignored Nat and Wanda entering Ife room to see if they could have another spa day. Nat even got a few pictures of the two dancing.

Steve gave Ife one last life during the climax and pulled her in when the music came to a close. They were about to come in for a kiss when Ife pressed her lips together and back away.

“We should probably retire for evening. Goodnight, Steve.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped in defeat, but left Ife’s room with a simple goodnight with Nat and Wanda in tow.

Ife frowned. She knew Steve wasn’t in the best place for a relationship and her conscience wouldn’t let her take advantage of that.

[angeloncewas]

Idk if this is personal or whatever, but can I just say that stepping away from majority of the dsmp fandom has been really nice? Like yeah I’m still keeping up to date and interacting with people, but not forcing myself to deal with discourse or arguments and just staying blind to a lot of it has genuinely been helpful.

I guess it’s not just that, but I would say it’s a big part of it. I’ve been in this fandom since like October 2020 and I honestly forgot how nice it is to be in a 100% fictional fandom and not have to deal with ccs or stans or dnis or anything like that. It feels nice not feeling bad about liking a certain character or even just having less fanon going around.

Idk where I’m going with this tbh, but thanks for being a chill place in this community. Even if I didn’t entirely realize the extent that the toxicity was getting to me, your blog’s always been a place of breathe.

I'm glad ! I think a lot of us came into this community at a time when it was all-consuming because we had very little else we COULD do (going on my government-mandated walk was only so invigorating) and shifting out of that's been an interesting progression for the fandom as a whole. It also doesn't help that this fandom is so big and active and varied -- usually you just kind of step in and step out (at least in my experience), but here posts go around in circles and get vagued and the same arguments from three weeks ago pop up again,,. never a dull day, as I always say.

(I feel you with the fictional fandom stuff though 😭 putting your faith in a character with no consequence is so much easier than having to weigh the reality of real peoples' actions and words) (and my god do I have words on how the dsmp fandom treats its characters and the people who like them lmao)

I discourse-post so idk how really chill I am, but I appreciate the kind words and I'm really glad I could be a bit of a respite for you <3 Hope you continue to have fun with it n all

[jimlingss]

just a few last messages I wanted to answer!!

Anonymous asked: Can we all follow you on Twitter or something? Or are you not comfortable with that👉👈

Unfortunately I’m not very active on twitter, anon!! or on any other platform haha

taeguccibracelet asked: Sup queen, just dropping by off anon real quick, unfortunately I couldn't read your last fic yet, thanks to finals 😪 I wish I was like those people who were sharing their favorite fics of yours, and when they started following you, but I just don't remember when I started reading your stuff, and I can't choose a favorite bc all your fics are amazing! Long story short, you're an incredibly talented writer, I'm sad that you're leaving but I do understand why, I wish you all the best 💜

hey you don’t need to remember the ‘when’, what matters is that you are here :> so thank you. I hope you enjoy the end. whenever you get to it :> and thank you so much!!

Anonymous asked: ahhh i found out you were leaving and i hope it’s not too late 😭 i just wanted to stop by and say thank you for all your writings!!! i remember first finding you through the for love and money series back in the days. hope you are well, healthy and happy and i wish you all the best 💜

joonie-mono asked: jgkggkfkgkgkgkgkgk I know this is probably you’re 1000th goodbye message but 🥺 I’m really gonna miss you 😭 your blog was one of the first I ever followed on tumblr, and your fics have gotten me through some really hard times. The truth between us literally made me cry, uhhhh boo-lieve in me, KALE IN ME SOFTLY (for some reason that one has a special place in my heart), jungle park 🙄✋ duh, also love so shallow, moirai and his name (that one made me sob ngl) BUT THE GIST IS GOGLGLGFLL thank you for writing such amazing fics, I hope the future treats you well- and I’ll be reading through your master list like crazy 😭 mWAH <3

Anonymous asked: I can't believe that it's finally 23rd of June (at least here), I remembered the end. where reader was dreading this day and I realized once more that days do fly without realizing. I'm so glad you gave us the end, it definitely is a masterpiece and it sums up perfectly this blog and you, I already have fond memories of reading it and loving it and the connection you made between you leaving and your last fic makes things more touching and emotional 🥺 thank you Kina and happy anniversary(probably I'm late so idk if you answer this but I just wanted to send this)

spillthetaesissy asked: Kina!! I've been a marked anon for a while now, but I wanted to say goodbye without it. Honestly, I love everything you have put out! From the first thing I read, to the last. The Worshiper series is a personal favourite of mine, as well as Moirai, and The End was really really good too! I hope health and happiness follows you into the next chapter of your life (no pun intended). You will be dearly missed on tumblr!P.S. if you ever get back into posting writing, fanfic or otherwise, you should let us tumblr fans know 👀 I would love to support a full publish!

Anonymous asked: hello love!! i wish you all the best in the future. you and your works have made my days so much brighter ever since i found you in 2018! i hope you’ll still come back sometime in the future, because i would love to hear how things are going for you!!!! good luck out there love!!!!!

Anonymous asked: hi bb!! i hope u have a wonderful, happy life ahead of u. ur stories have given me so many countless hours of respite from the world around me, and for that i'll always be thankful to u!! i remember reading ur fics and wondering if i would ever be able to create a voice as strong, as special, as urs. the sentiment still remains- you are and will always be one of the best writers i've had the pleasure to come across. i'm happy u chose to share ur works with all of us, and that u chose to base it around the boys- this might sound cheesy, but i love how you characterise all of them, it has made me appreciate them more. anyway, we have never interacted, and i dont know u personally, but i'll miss u!! stay blessed, thank u for everything once again!!

Thank you, everyone!! and Happy Anniversary!!! :D

[eternalnight8806-3]

60 :3

OMG LOOK I’M BACK!!!!!! IT ONLY TOOK ALMOST 9 MONTHS BUT I’M HERE WITH SOMETHING NEW FOR YOU GUYS!

I’m just gonna call this Dya’s Prompt because I suck at coming up with titles so there ya go.

Note: The baby’s name roughly translates to “dark snow”.

Category: SFW, One shot, canon continuation, fluff

Word Count: 2,013

Pairing: InuKag

Rating: T for language

I’d like to thank @cstorm86 for pushing me and helping me to finish this. It’s not my best, but it’s here and right now that’s what’s important.

Also tagging: @keichanz @noviceotakus-blog @hinezumi @morikothehalfangel

If you want to be added to my tag list, please let me know.

I hope you all enjoy!

Dya’s Prompt

(You’d be a great dad)

The

time since returning to the feudal era had seemed like nothing to

Kagome. Before she knew what was happening, two whole years had passed.

She and InuYasha had married soon after her return, this being the

happiest day of both of their lives. Until now.

As

she looked down at the face of her newborn daughter, Miyukiyoru, Kagome

couldn’t help but smile. She was exhausted beyond anything she’d ever

felt before, having had an intense 18 hour labor to deliver the treasure

she held in her arms, but the happiness she felt was the strongest in

her memory. Claw tipped hands came into her view, stroking back the

wispy silver hairs from their daughter’s face and tentatively touching

one of the tiny triangular ears atop her head. The resemblance to her

father was uncanny, with one major difference. Her ears were jet black, a

stark contrast from her pure white hair. InuYasha leaned in and kissed

the foreheads of both of his girls, the smile on his face telling Kagome

all she needed to know.

The

first few weeks after Miyukiyoru’s birth were a whirlwind of activity.

InuYasha always made sure to get up with her at night whenever possible,

knowing he could get by with less sleep than his wife. When Kagome had

told him about bottle feeding and pumping breast milk from her time, he

and some of the village women had fashioned a few makeshift bottles from

animal hide, complete with removable nipples for the baby to suckle

from. Kagome always purified these before filling them with milk

throughout the day to ensure her baby’s health.

She

was able to pump using these same bottles and a wonderful contraption

Miroku had somehow managed to scrape together, though she had no idea

how the thing actually accomplished what it did. She was grateful for

the respite and she loved that InuYasha could experience the bond of

feeding his child like she could.

This

particular night, about 4 weeks after her birth, was a tumultuous night

for the new parents, however. Miyukiyoru would not stop crying no

matter what the couple tried. She wailed deep into the night, frazzling

the nerves of even the ever patient Kagome. She was nearly in tears

herself when a miracle happened as she stood a helpless onlooker,

listening to her beloved speak softly to their daughter.

“…

didn’t like eachother very much at first, you know. She was this spit

ball of fiery energy that stood in the way of me getting the Jewel of

Four Souls. This was gonna make me a full fledged demon, ya know.

Something your daddy thought he always wanted,” he looked up at Kagome

then, “until your momma showed me I didn’t need to change who I am to be

worthy of love.”

Kagome stood, astonished, as slowly Miyukiyoru slowly stopped crying and started listening intently to her father’s story.

“…I

woke up on that tree after 50 years with your momma pressed against me,

smelling like the sweetest flower to ever grace the Earth, though I

wouldn’t tell her that for a long time. She looked a lot like the woman

who pinned me to that tree, so I was angry and bitter at her for a long

time, until she beat some sense into me.”

Kagome

smiled as she listened. She no longer minded being reminded that she

looked like her previous life, Kikyo. She had long ago let go of those

feelings of jealousy and regret. InuYasha had more than proven to her

that she was his choice, not someone who was thrust upon him by chance

or simply second best to his former love.

“…So

your momma took that claw and attached it to the arrow, she’s so

clever, isn’t she?” InuYasha winked at his wife, making Kagome barely

stifle a giggle. “But when the arrow hit that damn bird it shattered the

Jewel into a whole bunch of teeny tiny shards and scattered them all

across the country. And thus began our year long journey to find them,

and defeat Naraku,”

Miyukiyoru’s

eyes lit up when he spoke Naraku’s name and she cooed happily. Kagome

rolled her eyes. She’s going to be a little reckless fighter, just like

her daddy, and Kagome wouldn’t have had it any other way. She slowly

lowered herself down onto the futon and curled up to listen to her

husband tell the story of their adventure to their baby girl. It was

around the point that Kagome met Sesshomaru for the first time that

Miyukiyoru finally closed her eyes and slept.

Slowly,

InuYasha placed the tiny bundle down in her makeshift bassinet and

backed away from her tentatively, almost expecting her to begin howling

again. He slumped down next to Kagome and sighed.

“Geez,

when a little brat can even wear out a half demon it makes me wonder

how you damn humans do this,” he teased as he wrapped his arms around

her and pulled her to his chest. Kagome chuckled softly.

“Patience, young padawan. You will learn the secrets in time.”

InuYasha’s eyebrow quirked. “Padawan?”

Smiling,

Kagome shook her head. “Nevermind. Go to sleep, while you still can,”

she retorted before curling up against him and closing her eyes for that

much needed sleep.

The

next night was more of the same. Miyukiyoru just would not go to sleep

no matter what they did. So finally, InuYasha decided to continue his

story from the previous night, if only to test his theory.

“Alright

babygirl, wanna hear about your asshole uncle Sesshomaru?” In response,

she giggled and raised her arms out towards her father’s face. Smiling,

he began his tale again. “So, there we all were, your momma,

Sesshomaru, the toad Jaken, and me, all inside my dad’s, your

grandpapa’s, bones in this huge demon graveyard.” InuYasha laid her down

in her bassinet but didn’t stop talking. If anything, he became more

excited, using his hands to express his excitement. Miyukiyoru never

took her eyes from him as he walked around her telling the tale.

“He

wanted Tetsusaiga, see. He’d wanted it ever since dad had died all

those years ago. But see, your grandpapa was much smarter than your

uncle and wanted your daddy to have it because he knew that Uncle Stick

In The Mud would never be able to use it properly, atleast not until he

learned some compassion. So, he went through all that just to get this,”

InuYasha pulled Tetsusaiga from it’s sheath, revealing it to his

daughter for the first time in all it’s glory. Her eyes widened and she

cooed as she watched him lightly swing it around.

“But

Uncle Sessy couldn’t even touch the sword, babygirl. Full demons can’t

touch it because of a special barrier your grandpapa put on it to

protect it. He was so mad when he discovered that, he attacked your

papa, because we didn’t really get along real good back then. Amidst all

our fighting we didn’t even hardly notice your momma and when she

pulled the sword from it’s spot in that rock your Uncle Sessy nearly had

a heart attack I think.” Miyukiyoru giggled at that.

“He

went after momma then, attacking her with his poison claws. If not for

Tetsusaiga she would’ve died right then. But this sword protected her,

because that’s what it’s meant for babygirl. Protecting the ones we

love, so long as we have compassion. Your uncle and I had a big fight

after that, and I transformed Tetsusaiga for the first time that day,

though it would be a while before I figured out how I’d done it. Your

momma knew though, because she’s always been smarter than me.”

Kagome

smiled to herself. She loved hearing him talk to their daughter, even

about battles and swords. She couldn’t help but sit quietly herself and

listen to him tell the familiar tale. The way he told it had her

riveted. She’d never known he was such a good storyteller.

“…sliced

him right through his arm, cutting it right off!” InuYasha sliced the

air with his sword to emphasis his point, pulling a loud ‘ooooo’ from

his baby. “Uncle Sessy ran away with his tail between his legs. I don’t

think he ever expected your daddy to actually be able to injure him like

that. But I did, babygirl. And that’s how I ended up with Tetsusaiga.”

He looked down after that to find she had finally drifted off to sleep.

He sheathed his sword and stuck it in its usual place by the door.

“You know, she’s gonna be so spoiled with you talking to her like that,” Kagome teased quietly.

“Keh.

She’s my daughter. She can be as spoiled as she wants to be, so long as

she can hold a sword,” he quipped back as he settled down next to her.

“With you as her father, how could she not?”

InuYasha

looked seriously into his wife’s chocolate eyes. “I want to be there

for her, always. I never want her to have the life I had. She’s too

precious for that.”

Kagome

took his face in her hands. “She won’t. Nothing is going to happen to

us, InuYasha. Our village is relatively safe, considering. Besides, with

a demon slayer and a trained monk as her godparents, nothing is getting

near her even if something did, which it won’t.”

InuYasha

grabbed her hands and smiled at her tentatively. “Yeah. I know. I just

worry s'all. The thought of her growing up the way I did makes my

stomach churn. I know I ain’t gonna be the best dad, but I still want to

be here, ya know?”

Kagome’s

lips pursed in an angry scowl. “Listen here, InuYasha. I don’t ever

want you to say that again, you hear me? You are the best goddamn father

that baby girl could ever hope for. And anyone who says different will

have me to deal with. You understand me?”

Smiling,

InuYasha simply nodded before settling down and pulling her down with

him. “Go to sleep, wife. Or else you won’t have the energy to fight all

these naysayers.”

From

that night on, InuYasha told his daughter the tale of the Jewel of Four

Souls, it becoming their nightly ritual. Whenever she refused to quiet,

the story would always hush her, but only if daddy told it. Every time

Kagome tried, she just cried harder. Kagome didn’t mind, however. She

thoroughly enjoyed seeing InuYasha spend time with their baby. The story

was theirs and theirs alone, and she respected that.

Every

night InuYasha became more brazen with his story telling, including

Tetsusaiga more and more, much to the delight of his daughter and the

chagrin of his wife. Kagome made him promise never to actually use any

of his attacks while telling the story, only using the sword as a prop.

She often had to remind him of this mid-swing of his sword. He loved to

get carried away, if it made his babygirl smile.

Three

months passed before he concluded the story for the first time, ending

it with his marriage to Kagome. As he settled her down into the crib he

had just finished making for her, Kagome wrapped her arms around his

waist and pressed her cheek against his back. He squeezed her hands

before turning around in her arms and wrapping her up in his own.

“You know what?” She whispered to him.

“Hmmm?” He mumbled back to her.

Kagome

looked up into his golden eyes, “Even when you were trying to take the

jewel from me and acting recklessly all those years ago, I always knew

you’d be a great father. And I’ll tell you everyday until the day I die

if I have to to get you to believe it.”

Smiling, InuYasha dipped his head and brushed her lips with his own. “I believe you, wench.”

[juliaisabellphoto]

July 6, 2019 - My Farewell Love Letter to Santiago, Chile

It has taken me a while to put this post up on my blog. I’m not sure if this is due to my crazy busy schedule now that I am home or due to being in denial about the fact that I’m no longer abroad, but it seems to be six of one and half a dozen of the other. 

The week before we started packing our bags, Lisi and I retraced our steps back to all of the spots that turned Santiago into home for us and I photographed her in them on film. I wanted to capture the tumultuous feeling of being alone in a big new place and the growth that came with finding ourselves in it. This country gave me more than I ever could have expected. Below are the pictures from the project, accompanied by the journal entry I wrote on the plane ride home. 

So, the day has come. I am sitting on my flight home from Chile, using the pen of the sweet woman next to me, listening to the playlists I made at the beginning, middle, and end of this grand adventure, and reading new Rebecca Solnit words (The Faraway Nearby) to celebrate and understand this beautiful journey. I’m not quite sure how to put it into words, but I suppose I will start by describing what I’ve learned and (as usual) the song and/or Rebecca Solnit quote that solidified it for me. Here is my love letter to the me that I have become here in Chile. 

A quote from “The Faraway Nearby” by Rebecca Solnit that summarizes my feelings about Chile’s impact on me is a great place to start: 

“I talked about places, about the ways that we often talk about love of place, by which we mean our love for places, but seldom of how the places love us back, of what they give us. They give us continuity, something to return to, and offer a familiarity that allows some portion of our lives to remain connected and coherent... And distant places give us refuge in territories where our own histories aren't so deeply entrenched and we can imagine other stories, other selves, or just drink up quiet and respite. The bigness of the world is redemption. Despair compresses you into a small space and a depression is literally a hollow in the ground. To dig deeper into the self, to go underground, is sometimes necessary, but so is the other route of getting out of yourself, into the larger world, into the openness in which you need not clutch your story and your troubles so tightly to your chest. Being able to travel both ways matters, and sometimes the way back into the heart of the question begins by going outward and beyond. This is the expansiveness that sometimes comes literally in a landscape or that tugs you out of yourself into a story.” 

I deeply feel this quote. She perfectly put into words why I not only wanted but needed to come to Chile. 

Times/places this feeling was most present: 

- looking out my window at the cordillera my first morning and the fresh new feeling 

- laying in the sand of the Atacama with Tori, Josh, Lucas, and Eliza watching the clearest stars I had ever seen 

- in the metro surrounded by strangers

- the first day I sat in Cafe Colmado and felt as though I had found home again 

- walking in the rain at the end of the W trek in Torres del Paine 

- staring up at Mount Aconcagua in Argentina

- watching the sunset in the Concon Dunes with Chris while “Inside Out” by Spoon played

- staring down from Huayna Picchu at Machu Piccu

- staring down into Devil’s Throat in Iguazu 

- petting the labrador on the beach in Rapa Nui 

- watching the solar eclipse from the Elqui Valley 

What I learned here in Chile: 

1. I am strong beyond measure. I have such a deep sense of self now and I am deeply proud to be who I am. I’m happy with the me that developed here. I think this may be the first time I can say that I unabashedly love myself. 

2. Change and new environments are good. They are critical to growth. 

3. Every moment of my past life was crucial in getting me to where I am now. This includes the things that used to make me bitter. I have no bitterness left in my body. Only love and hope for the future. 

4. Not everything is easy. But everything can be overcome. 

5. You will find new kinds of love in every person you meet. Every moment of this love is worth it. 

6. You could die in a plane crash or fall off of a mountain at any moment. There is no productivity in regret. 

Songs of Chile: 

Sisters of the Moon by Fleetwood Mac: I developed a much deeper love for the sun and moon and stars and their influence on the natural order of things here in Chile. These ideas now ground me in a very special way. 

Drops of Jupiter by Train: This song is an embodiment of my journey. I feel as though I am the woman being described and that the feelings expressed are now what I expect from those I love. I want to walk across the sun and surround myself with people who encourage me to do so. 

No Plan by Hozier: This song makes me think of the first bus I took to Valparaiso. The idea that this semester would take whatever path it found and that I was absolutely okay with that exists in this song. 

World on Fire by NOAH: This was a lesson that the songs you need to hear can come from the most unexpected people, as it was sent to me randomly by an acquaintance on instagram. A symbol of my world that is beautifully on fire, and that those that join must burn with me. 

Wide Open Spaces by the Dixie Chicks: The exact sentiment of the Rebecca Solnit quote. I needed the physical movement and new hardship and distance to finalize my process of moving on beyond an old me. 

Dog Days Are Over by Florence and the Machine: Happiness hit me and it still can and still does all the time. 

Back in My Body by Maggie Rogers: You can lose yourself, but sometimes you just need a certain spark to find yourself again. My spark was Chile. 

I am deeply happy with these past six months. I feel that this experience helped me grow in such a necessary way. I am ready to return to normal Michigan life. I got the mental health reset and adventure break I needed, and I’m ready to return to an intense pursuit of my dreams. 

I am who I am. I’m proud of that. I’ll take me as I am. They’ll take me as I am. If they don’t, I leave. I’ll never turn down an adventure like this ever again without a really good reason. 

[iliketowrite1996]

Someday 2/3

TRIGGER WARNINGS AND THEMES- Segregation, racism, interracial relationships being disapproved of, parental disapproval, perceived disapproval from a friend but he’s really just concerned, lying, sneaking around, secret relationships. 

PART 2 of my collaboration work with @starsshines-blog! It was her idea to give Bucky a love interest so here we go!

For the purpose of the story, the reader and her family are Christian. Plus, I based it off of myself a bit. 

 Jazz music.

   It’s something that your very religious parents would never allow in their house. No, nothing but Sunday morning hymns and Gospel music for the Jameson household. And it’s not that you don’t love those songs. You can sing with the best of them, and those songs define your entire childhood. You have vivid memories of sitting on the back porch with Jane, singing songs that you’d sang in church earlier that day as you braid her hair, sip lemonade, and wait on your mother’s Sunday Evening dinner of Roast beef, potatoes, carrots, rolls, and creamed corn to be done.

   Jazz music, through… that’s when you come live. The dance floor is your safe haven. Other than the church and your home, it’s the one place you can simply be yourself.

   Plus, Jeremy Coleman would never set foot in the place. He doesn’t like dancing. You know that from the awkward conversations you had when your mothers left you alone to talk.This isn’t his cup of tea, so you’ll gladly drink from it.

   It’s a safe haven, In a world where segregation is the norm, and you are no stranger to being harassed because of the color of your skin, you need all of the safety and peace you can get it, when you can get it. While it does sink that there is no way for you and people who don’t look like you to dance together, you’re grateful for the chance to dance when you can.

   ‘’I don't’ see why I had to come along,’’ Jane huffs, pulling at the red fabric of her dress.

   Jane hates dancing. He can’t stand it. She’ll watch you twirl around the room and down the hallway of your small home as your parents and brothers just started.

   This is another scene. It really isn’t. But you’re her best friend and her sister and this is your scene. She remembers dragging you to the library countless times as a young child and this is a way to sort of pay you back.

   She’s holding tightly to your arm as weave your way through the crowd that’s gathering at seats and into a corner, where she can sit and observe and you can leave your coat and purse to go and cut a rug on the dance floor.

   It’s only twice a month that yo get to come here. Currently, your mother thinks Jane is cleaning houses with you to earn some extra money.

   That’s what you always tell her.

   Then you change and leave the clothes where you know you’ll find them.

   You come here.

   You have a drink.

   Next thing you know, you’re swing dancing with some good looking young man and having the time of your life.

   And you know full well that your mother would tan your backside if she ever found out and Jacob would drag you away. So this secret stays between you and Jane.

   Jane is currently watching on with disdain as your eyes scan the dancefloor, looking for a suitable partner. Every girl is with a guy, skirts flowing as the men twirl them around the dance floors like dainty, human tops.

It’s got you moving your legs, and then your feet are moving until you’re out on the floor, doing your own thing, dancing to the music yourself.

It’s fine and it’s fun and it’s cool. It’s how your Saturdays at a dancehall always go until you’re returning to your table and someone drops a glass. It’s hard to see the broken glass in the dimly lit nightclub, so others side step it. You're Half tempted to pick up the bigger pieces, just so whoever comes to clean up doesn't find a nasty surprise sticking through the bottom of their shoe.

   ‘’Hey, can I get someone over here to clean this up?’’

   You’re used to tall the guys that work here- you’ve danced with all of them at least once. Seeing a handsome man with brown eyes and brown skin and short, cropped, black hair is nothing new.

   What is new is seeing the ivory-skinned, blue-eyed, blonde-haired man rushing forward to sweep the fragments onto glass, reminding you to watch your step.

   ‘’Please, let me help you.’’

   You take the rag that he came with and attempt to mop up the spilled drink while the new cleaner picks  up the smaller pieces with the broom and then the bigger pieces by hand.

   ‘’Thank you so much, miss.’’

   ‘’It’s no trouble at all.  Clean houses all day. I know what it’s like to be busy and then accidents happen, and… Steve Rogers?’’

   ‘’He looks up form where he is playing the broken glass covered rag into a bin, and his eyes nearly pop out of his head when he recognizes you, ‘’Um, hello. Fancy meeting you here.’’

   You quirk an eyebrow at that tired pick-up line, ‘’This is more my territory than yours, wouldn’t you say?’’

   He nods a bit before looking to his dark colored shoes, blushing, ‘’I’m just using the lines that my friend Bucky Uses. I have no idea how to talk to a woman.’’

   This throws you a bit, but you don't’ show it. Because not only is he very, obviously attracted to you, but he’s treating you like any other human being.

   Maybe that’s why, on his break, you find yourself talking to him in the alley as he enjoys a sandwich from the kitchen and you sip a glass of water.

   ‘’I need extra money. This place was hiring, I like it here, and it pays decent enough,’’ hesitates as if it were that simple.

   You suppose that, in his mind, it really is. He can come work here. You could work at nightclubs that ‘’should’’ be more of ‘’his scene’’, but you know that you would not be treated so kindly if you di. Despite some looks of respite on the parts of your peers at his particular nightclub, Steve obviously hasn't been harassed much in the two weeks that he’s been here.

   You like that he is talking to you in a way that is real. He tells you about how he’s currently living with his old high school friend, and  that he wants to be apart of something bigger, that he has dreams and hopes and plans that go even further than Brooklyn, New York.

   There must be something in the air tonight, because you tell him that your dreams go far beyond the walls of your family's home. That you dream of being a nurse but worry, and for good reason. It’s not that you can’t be a nurse- there are plenty of nurses that look like you. It’s that you’re worried what others will say about you and your plans.  He doesn’t tell you that he understands, no. but you see it in the glint of sadness in his sapphire eyes.

   He can’t be sympathetic, no, but he’s empathetic. It’s  look you’ve only seen a few times and it still feels you with emotion each time.

   He’s something special, even if you can’t quite put your finger on it.

   Maybe that’s why you end up teaching some dance lessons to him in the alley, fifteen minutes before his thirty minute break is over. He’s laughing, you’re giggling, and, for once,the world isn’t in black and white, literally or  figuratively.

   It’s in bold, screaming, dazzling color and you could kick yourself for admitting it, but…

   Maybe, by the end of the night, yo have some sort of crush on this boy.

   And maybe he’s the reason you’re going to do your best to sneak over here again next Saturday, exchanging the promise and thrill of his company for the lure of the wooden dance floor and eyes on you and skirt squishing around you as you step in time to the music.

   He’s got a hold of you that not even dancing and sneaking around does for you.

   That says something.

   ‘’You look beautiful tonight, doll,’’ Steve tells you as you lean against the wall outside, the cold air doing little to soothe your overheated, flushed skin.

   ‘’The band is really jumpin’ tonight!,’’ you remind him, ‘’Everyone’s having fun.’’

   ‘’Everyone who's having fun can actually dance, doll,’’ he laughs, shaking his head, ‘’You’ll notice it’s my night off and you don’t even see me out there.’’

   You hadn’t even noticed that. Steve has been sitting at your table all night, guarding your purse and keeping Jane company while you were twirled and dipped and carried and swung on the dancefloor.

   ‘’I am just glad that you were having a good time. I can’t dance, you know.’’

   ‘’Steve Rogers, anyone can dance,’’ you roll your eyes, setting down your cool drink of water and taking his hands in yours.

   It’s beautiful, really- the contrast of his pale skin against your own skin. It’s something that would make others cringe should they see you. That’s why you keep this little dance lesson where no one can see you. His and nervously touches your waist and you show him how to move to the symphony of sounds drifting out to the dance hall and spinning around in the night air before falling over the two of you like a cascading waterfall of music.

   The floral pattern of your dress swishes this way and that along with the skirt as Steve Gets the hang of things. He doesn't dare try any fancy footwork, just moving in time to the basic steps that you’ve just shown him.

   Steve Rogers is no idiot. He knows that the world you live in wouldn’t take too kindly to the two of you being friends. It’s taboo to most, perverse to many.

   He wishes people would take the time to see that the color of someone’s skin has no indication of their intelligence, character, personality.

   The closest he’s come to a like-minded individual is his best friend, Bucky. Bucky doesn't agree with the way things are, but he also doesn't want Steve to get into trouble. So Steve keeps the fact that he's definitely developing a little crush on you.

   In fact,it’s such a secret that he doesn't even fully realize it until he’s staring at you in the moonlight. It’s corny and it’s happened to so, so many others,... but your pressed hair and skin and lips and eyes? They all look so beautiful under this nighttime sky.

   That’s why he drops his hand and quickly turns to face the other way, trying to release the thoughts of being more than just friends with you as he takes in a deep breath, over and over again.

   In and out.

   Breathe in, breathe in out.

   Let in the good air.

   Let out your wishes that you know can’t come true, Steve.

   ‘’Steve, what’s wrong?’’

   ‘’Nothing,’’ he says a bit too quickly, letting you know that something is, indeed, wrong.

   ‘’Steve,’’ you sigh, placing a hand on his shoulder, ‘’Come on. I know you better than that.’’

   ‘’Do you think that things will ever change? As far as society, I mean.’’

   It’s a question that you’ve often pondered. Are brighter days ahead? Is this the way things will always be or will your children have far more opportunities? You know someday this won't be the reality.

   Right now, though, all you can do is live and hope or that day.

   ‘’What about, like… do you think people will be allowed to love who they want,’’ Steve questions after you tell him all of that.

   ‘’I do. I really, really do.’’

   Maybe then you wouldn't be going o n date with Coleman after work on Monday. Maybe you’d be able to go out with the man who you really want to be with, the man who you know you can’t be with. In another place, time, world, or life.

   But not here. Not right now.

   You know it's impossible for you to be with Steve right now It’d be illegal for the two of you to marry, and your parents would shun you. Jacob would never talk to you again and he’d definitely rope your other brother into ignoring you. You know that all  you would have left would be Jane,and even she would not be too thrilled about that turn of events.

   Steve knows how dangerous it’d be for you to be together. Even you two talking has people turning their heads which is why it’s better done in private. Any relationship would be a ‘’No’’ and would fizzle out and fade to darkness before he could even start the spark, let alone the fire of love to keep it going.

   That doesn’t stop him from confessing that he feels something for you, from confessing that he can’t think about you, from asking if he can kiss you.

   It doesn't stop you from admitting the same thing, that you’ve been there too many times to count lately, from letting his pink lips press to your lips.

   It’s short, it’s sweet, it’s simple. It's a promise- a non verbal agreement to see where this thing goes. He takes your hand, and presses a kiss to the back of it like he has seen Bucky do to so many dates before.

   From the giggle you emit, he must be o the right track.

   But that’s where you part. The club is shutting down and Jane will be looking for you and you’ve better get home and change before your mother checks on you two.     

   So you say goodnight. Give him your phone number. Tell him to hang up if your dad or your older brother picks up.    

Collect Jane and your things and leave.

   ‘’And just where have you been all night,’’ she raises an eyebrow as she questions  you.

   ‘’Oh, just talking to a friend.’’

   It’s not a lie. Not really. It’s partial omission of the truth, yes, but.. Jane wouldn't understand.    

   You don't’ even understand.

   That’s why you go on your Monday night date with Jeremy and agree to see him again on Friday.

   Because you’re seeing Steve two towns over, having a picnic together at his favorite spot, on Saturday.

   Guess which date you prefer?

   ‘’My buddy doesn't mind us using his apartment. He knows what it’s like to go on a date with a pretty girl like you,’’ Steve clears his throat, fixing his tie before taking a drink of his water.

   ‘’Steve, stop being so nervous,’’ you shake your head fondly, ‘’I already like you.’’

   Steve is not Bucky. Girls always look at Bucky, not Steve. Even Steve’s dates want Bucky.

   It’s why he's a little hesitant when he brings Back to the club that night, knowing full well that you’ll be there with Jane.

   Worse case scenario, Bucky is shocked but is polite and asks Steve what the heck is going on later.

   Best case scenario, his best friend gets along swimmingly with his best girl, and the two of you continue this relationship for as long as you can.

   Steve is not stupid. Neither are you. That’s been established.

   There’s no foreseeable way for this relationship to last long term. That’s been established, too.

   Your relationship has to be kept behind closed doors. It hurts you and breaks his heart every time you see each other, but it’s for the best. It’s all you can do right now. Stolen moments are taken advantage of, and you two discover just how meant to be you are between kisses and conversations about the future and the changes that it may hold.

   You don’t want to live your love life this way. Hiding Him away as he hides you away is awful. You know it’ll change, and you’re living for that day, but in the meantime… you can’t hold your boyfriend or kiss him in public. You live in a world that sees you very different from the way that you two really are, that see this relationship as something that’s contaminated.

   Everything is not black and white, even in a world that appears to be,

   So it’s with hesitation hat you tell Jae that night. Your parents are under the impression that you two are going to have a night on the town. And you're.

   The difference? She’ll be meeting Steve,

   ‘’Daddy is going to flip his wig. He’s going to snap his cap!,’’ Jane hisses at you as you pin your hair, ‘’Have you lost your mind?’’

   ‘’Momma always did say I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached to my body. I guess I have,’’ you shrug, looking at your sister in the mirror.

   ‘’This is not funny, and you know it. You know how dangerous this is!’’

   ‘’I did not tell you this so that you could judge me,’’ you stand, facing Jane, ‘’You are my sister, my best friend. I love you and I can not keep a secret from you any longer.’’

   She shakes her head, smoothing hair brown hair out of her face and taking the short tresses behind the rear, ‘’Fine. He’s not Jeremy but I'll Meet him if it’ll make you happy.’’

   ‘’Well, don’t you sound like an eager beaver.’’

   ‘’Don’t push it.’’

   Jane has her arm looped through yours when you arrive at the club. The regular patrons have begun accustomed to seeing Steven and some even say hey to him as they pass his table. So, no, that’s not what’s unusual to you.

   What’s unusual is the fact that he has a man sitting with him that you've never seen before, but you’ve definitely heard about before.

   This must be Bucky.

   ‘’You didn’t say anything about it being him and him being a friend,’’ Jane narrows her eyes at oy.

   Little do you know that Bucky and Steve are having a similar conversation across the way.

   ‘’You didn't say…’’

   ‘’I didn’t think it mattered.’’

   ‘’It shouldn’t Steve,’’ Bucky sings, ‘’But you know it is. It shouldn’t be but can we do to change that?’’

   Bucky means well. He does. But Steve Doesn't wanna hear it.

   HIs eyes are focused on you and anything else and anyone else doesn't matter.

   ‘’Hey,’’ he shakes your hand, knowing he can’t embrace or kiss you here.

   ‘’Hi. Um, Steve, this is my sister. Jane.’’

   ‘’Hello,’’ she sticks her hand out. ‘’Nice to finally meet you.’’

   ‘’Nice to meet you,too. And this is my best friend, James Buchanan Barnes.’’

   The moment he says that, Jane and Bucky lock eyes.

   It’s something straight out of a radio show- you can see the connection.

   ‘’Hello,’’ she says mildly, timidly.

   ‘’It’s nice to meet you two. You can call me Bucky.’’

   Steve whispers to you, ‘’That’s a good sign. He only lets me and his mother call him that,’’

   There’s something building between Jane and Bucky. Within these four walls, you can dance with Steve and she can dance with Bucky. People am I think something of it , but hey say nothing. It’s an unspoken rule, that this is a place for having fun. Most people here don’t mind Steve and they don’t mind his friend by association. He’s kind Treats everyone the same, form the other waiters to the bandleader to the owner.

   So you’re safe within these four walls, where you can’t show him how much you love him but can enjoy acing with him as Jane dancing with Bucky.

   It’s pure bliss and you don’t feel a care in the world.

   Neither does Jane, if her giggles as she and Bucky talk indicate anything.

   You can relax and just be you, and they can be them, and it works.

   Little do you know that Jeremy’s sister and your brother’s current girl are sitting at a table on the other side of the room and can see everything.

   You enjoy tonight, not knowing it may be all you have left of this fantasy.

   Because tomorrow, the truth will be exposed.

   And your day dream may turn into a nightmare.

DISCLAIMER- I DO NOT OWN ANY MARVEL CHARACTERS OR THEIR FICTIONAL WORLDS,COUNTRIES, CITIES, OR UNIVERSES. 

@ashanti-notthesinger​ @destinio1​ @afraiddreamingandloving​ @starsshines-blog​ @airis-paris14​ @syreanne​ @chaneajoyyy​ @90sinspiredgirl​ @shemiahsmelanin @zillmonger @skysynclair19 @bidibidibombaclaat @marvelpotterlove @constantlycravingtheunknown @imaginewhoever @wakanda-inspired @pocmarvelworks @theunsweetenedtruth @dreampovx @adrioola21

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, DOM! You’ve been accepted for the role of HELENUS. Admin Jen: You have no idea how overjoyed we were to finally receive an application for Helenus, and Dom, you completely blew our expectations out of the water! I thoroughly enjoyed reading about what drew you towards Hugo; your passion really shone through and to see that it wasn’t directed solely towards him but towards so many other characters, it left me so thrilled to see all that your portrayal has to offer -- and it surely didn’t disappoint. The interview was fantastic, but I have to admit, it was the plots that had me sold on your Hugo. They were so intricate and well thought-out and I was living for the duality you explored in Hugo’s relationships with Roman and Halcyon. Trust me when I say that I cannot wait to see it all come to life on the dash! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias |  Dom

Age | 20

Preferred Pronouns | she/her/hers babey!

Activity Level | I mean, I go to college, and I may need a 20 min allowance to freak out over responses, but I’m consistent and enthusiastic.

Timezone | EST

In Character

Character | Helenus / Hugo Kim

What drew you to this character? | Honestly it was the relationship between him and Halcyon, who I know is Hippolyta from a Midsummer’s Night Dream, but struck me - within the context of Troilus and Cressida - reminded me the Greek’s relationship with Helen. This kind of fascination by people towards another person they confuse with the sublime is kind of incredible, and always misunderstanding, and generally tragic. Like Pierre, with Natasha, in War & Peace. I think Anne Carson does the most justice towards characters like Helen by acknowledging them as a characters that cannot be acknowledged - she is too large for those around her, and too large for the text itself (and its author) to understand her completely. For all her brightness, she is shrouded by accidental but inevitable misreading. I’d like to work with that misreading, and I think it would be fun to play with being confused like that.

That being said, I’m also interested in his relationship with Roman Montague. Who if Hippolyta is a sun to Helenus, then Romeo must be a warm spot at home. There exists a potential for a type of softness between them that I think could catalyze a really interesting stronghold for both of them.

I’ve read Troilus and Cressida of course, and all I remember of Helenus was his dual occupation as a priest in a soldier’s camp. He’s barely mentioned or active in the text - He has one line I think, against Troilus in their debate about returning Helen or not, and one off-hand description of him by Panderus in a line-up of men Cressida asks about. He’s not a soldier, and is not expected to fight, nor does Paris (?) arm him I think. The text is never kind to him. It reminds us time and time again that Helenus is not a soldier, and because of that, a coward. I don’t think anyone was supposed to be sympathetic to him until I read your adaptation of him. The line Troilus snipes at him with: “You are but dreams and slumbers, Brother Priest” takes on a much more poignant meaning with Diverona’s new addition of gentleness. It’s not so much an insult, but a reason why Helenus probably won’t last long in this war, the kind person he is now he’ll wake up from someday, him not much more than dream.

Also don’t get me started on debt, and brothers, and goodliness in the face of extreme acts of violence by your own hands.

Excited to work with Easton - Edmund is one of my favorite characters from Shakespeare’s list, and seems like another fun personality to work with. Damned brothers. Maybe Easton’s got some points.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

Where do you see this character developing, and what kind of actions would you have them take to get there? 3 future plot ideas would be preferable.

IT WILL COME BACK:

Even since his brother’s death, he’s been spinning the story. It wasn’t him who pulled the trigger, but the thug. His father, the only other person alive who knows, has retreated into himself. And the Capulets’ are more than ready to help their pastor keep his secret - assigning Albert’s death to a nameless criminal, and keeping the theft of Hugo’s store an uncomplicated,  and more importantly, anonymous tragedy. This way Hugo accumulates pathos and stays out of jail. But one day, his father drinking, a slip of the tongue from one of the higher ups - and all of Verona knows the pastor they’ve trusted is guilty of fratricide. It suddenly comes to light that Hugo is Cain, not Abel, and if Hugo can’t even be his brother’s keeper, how can he possibly hope to keep the faith of his congregation?

HACYLON AND ON AND ON:

Hugo admits to himself he has feelings for Roman, the Montague. But with every favor Hacylon asks of him, it cleaves him further and further from his fair-hearted love. If Halcyon is a woman written large, something centric, around which people can’t help but rotate around like she’s the North Star, then though what she asks feels immoral, she’s what must redeem Hugo. She’s what reminds him he belongs in the shadows, not lit by the sweet torch of Roman’s look. Hugo had stumbled what must be miracles, Roman and Halcyon independently,  and finds himself too impure in the aftermath. However, when Halcyon asks him to do something that will bring Hugo to the brink of a life already full of wickedness, will he stay his hand?

GO WITH GOD:

Hugo has become comfortable in his dual role as pastor and soldier. Days he can openly denounce what he does in secret at night. Sure, a few people know his secret, like his brothers in arms, and most of the upper forces of the Capulets, but he is working off his debt and soon he’ll be free to try a true repentance. All he’s doing now he can tip the scales back from again, with hard work and prayer for the rest of his life not spent in the Capulet’s debt. He is working off his brother’s labor, and what’s more biblical than that? Then one day the Capulets strongly urge Hugo to start writing into his sermons a Capulet bent, turning his services from neutral arguments for peace to a more propagandistic tint. If preaching and helping others is all that Hugo has left, then what will he offer to not sacrifice that respite?

Some other plot ideas include him getting addicted to Measure by Measure fighting, him overhearing some plot at To Tame a Soup, and Hugo maybe starting his own web of debts, starting with Lawrence.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Of course. If it makes sense.  

In Depth

Please choose between the interview or the para sample (or both, if you like!)

In-Character Interview: The following questions must be answered in-character, and in para form (quotations, actions written out if applicable, etc). There is no minimum or maximum limit for your response - simply answer as you would if you were playing the character.

What is your favorite place in Verona? |

If this weren’t a Capulet interview, if this weren’t the first of many an annual interview gauging his psychological state as a soldier, Hugo would have grinned, leaned in close, and joked ‘Measure by Measure.’ He’d only be half-joking of course, and the uncertainty of whether he was telling the truth or not would add the perfect amount of charming deviance to make his conversational partner - probably from his congregation - chuckle nervously and then louder. They’d hit his arm with the same coquettish flavor, and say something about youth pastors being too agreeable nowadays, and they remember when priests were people to be scared of. Not him. God turns the other cheek. And so do the guys getting knocked out in the ring. Haha, joking.

No, but this wasn’t a question from a parishioner, and was an official Capulet interview, so Hugo unfolded his hands with a nervous, you-got-me shrug. “To Tame A Soup. Well - maybe that comes as a surprise. I could’ve said the church.”

He could’ve said the restaurant. A few years ago he would’ve. He loved the wall the lights splattered onto the floor in little bushels of pale, creamy yellow like somewhere to fall asleep in. They’d let cats come in and sleep in the sun pockets, to the shock of some customers. Splattered like his mother onto the floor. He’d scrubbed out the blood, not his father, not the Capulets. He’d seen the white turn pink when the light hit in the morning.

“But what can I say? I love my church as well. I’m as predictable as I seem. I like helping people. Maybe To Tame A Soup was the wrong thing to say. I know it’s in Montague territory, but it’s a good place set up to help the good people of Verona in need. That’s something above territory. It’s esteemed.”

What does your typical day look like?

Hugo nods his head back and forth, like the day’s hypotheticals are rolling out in front of him so he can best read it off. “Well first I have to open the restaurant, which means counting the safe to figure out how much money is in the restaurant before first shifts, filling the register, making first deposit…prep work for breakfast and lunch, all the heavy-duty cleaning, setting up tables — Dad’s still the owner, of course, but after the robbery it’s just easier for me to open, as long as I’m home from school anyways.

“Unless it’s Sunday, which means I’m at church by six to prepare for a seven thirty service and I’ll be there the whole day.

“Otherwise the restaurant keeps me pretty busy… Inventory, cash control, food cost analysis, etc. And in the minutes I can squirrel away to myself, I’m still usually drafting sermons for the next week.” Hugo wonders if his interviewer can hear the envy drifting into his voice. His life sounds boring, normal. He finds himself salivating over what he’s invented for himself, wants to continue listing things that don’t involve blood, or debts, debts paid off by blood. None of what he’s saying is untrue, it’s just separate, distinct. Good, honest work. He takes a breath back to composure.

“I donate whatever time I can but —” Hugo bites his lip. “My day isn’t really my own. I’m mostly where I’m sent.” Nights he doesn’t sleep well. He paces. He cracks his knuckles in a distracted, painful way. Goes out and wanders the streets, watches people silhouette their windows. Catalogues the city into dangers.

“Which is a blessing in and of its own, I suppose. Routine is just another word for complacency. Or so I’ve been told. And in a grander sense, the day is a duty I’m happy to serve.”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

Oh religion and its capacities for accountability. Guilt. On a more realistic, fundamental level, maybe the mistake had been going away to seminary school. Straying his eye away from his brother. Letting one, two, three years go by with not a single word traded between them. The egotism, the pride of turning to God by turning his back on his family. If he wasn’t being punished, then…maybe it had been thinking any of them, even his family, could escape the conflict that had consumed even the best hidden corners of Verona like air. More literally, if he hadn’t fallen asleep that night, lulled into a demonstrably false sense of safety. He doesn’t blame Albert, victim of a system —

Hugo blinks out of it, shifting in his seat. He looks over his interviewer again. “Biggest mistake. Yes. Hm. I find myself failing on the pulpit. People are scared. And unforgiving. Without remorse, this city’s come to gorging on itself. I think I’ve slipped into preaching — I don’t mean to lecture you — but there’s no room for forgiveness when there’s no impetus to feel remorse for the enemy blood that’s been spilled. I’m not sure how to help Verona see itself as a city of brothers and sisters again. I feel —even worse, I see — the consequences of that failure every day.”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

Hugo catches himself, faltered and recovered in an instant. He should know better. The questions seem routine, and he knows he knows how to keep it together.

“I guess it would depend on what we define as something capable of asking. Who asked what of me? God? My brother? The gun, that had the trigger? My mother? Did she ask of me, in heaven? You of course know what happened. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, I’m just trying to understand the question.” Halcyon?

Keep it general. Keep it a parable. Lessons of moral inequality are never unexpected from him, and seem to put people at ease.

“Verona asks me to walk a difficult path every day. And Verona asks we go nowhere for help. The city has built itself so that no one leaves the same way they came in. I don’t know if that’s the most difficult thing asked of me - or of you - but it’s the most prominent.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

A soft smile. Hugo thinks about Halcyon, and from her lips sweet as antifreeze, new marching orders. “Of course any endorsement of war would be immoral. Blood waters tragedy. That’s not saying anything new.” It hits him that a smile might not have been appropriate.

“But I don’t think it’s traitorous to admit either. I’m loyal to the Capulets, that’s never been in question. Leaders who discourage complicated emotion towards violence in their name should employ animals, loyal only to violence, not men. The Capulets have given me the gift of loyalty by accepting me into their ranks ..no matter the reason.. and that alone cements my allegiance, even if I don’t always agree with…all this.”

“War, more than anything, is a set of volatile conditions.” Hugo focuses on his hands, moving them in a haphazard pattern, an airplane crash. “I’m realistic enough, neutral enough — and I guess some might mistake that for ambivalence, but — I’m realistic enough to question who of us will survive it, especially those of us small enough our stepping on will go unnoticed. Little ants in the atomic blast. I’m trying to say, the flock, especially, is who I’m worried about, not so much the lions laying down with them. Even me.” He smiles again.  

[justanothersecretfangirl]

Welcome (Part 3)

A/N: Hello people of the internet. I am feeling a little out of sorts today, and escaping to Shawn-land is a nice respite. I know it’s a little short, but this seemed like a logical place to end the Chapter. It’s so sweet and fluffy it could give you cavities, so heads up on that one. Hope you enjoy!

PS: @embracehappy​ is still the sweetest in all the land. That is all. 

After maneuvering the wheelchair closer to Grace, Shawn helped Grace into her wheelchair. Grace ended up plopping in the seat and breaking into a fit of giggles as Shawn swore under his breath for losing his grip on her. Grace lifted her legs onto the rests and glanced up at Shawn. He nodded and then pulled her toward him. He turned her slightly and pushed her out the door, and straight into the wall across the hall. Grace laughed a deep belly laugh and Shawn turned a deep shade of red.

“It’s fine Shawn! If my mom didn’t run me into a few walls a day, it’s a good day,” she said, eyes sparkling from laughing so loud. He mumbled something under his breath, but backed her up from the wall and down the hallway. Grace looked up at him. He was so focused on not running her into anything that he had slowed to a snail’s pace. “Shawn. You’re going to have to speed up or we’re never going to get there.” Shawn looked down at her mischievously.

Before Grace could think about it, Shawn took off in a sprint, his tall frame hunched over to hold onto her handles. Grace screeched, but laughed, holding onto her arm rests for dear life. When they reached the elevator, Shawn halted abruptly, quick enough that if Grace wasn’t holding on, she would have been flung from the chair. Grace laughed at him while he pressed the down button, Andrew and Elizabeth finally catching up. Shawn grinned down at her, moving back around her chair to hold on to the handles.

The group made their way to the Meet and Greet room, Shawn successfully pushing Grace without running her feet into anything else. Shawn beamed as he pushed her to the side entrance to the room where the line was already forming.

“I have to go around, but I will see you in a few minutes, okay?” Shawn eyed her. She just nodded her head, grinning under her mask. Shawn took off his mask and quickly pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He quickly turned and walked back down the hallway, to the rear entrance of the room. Grace glanced up at her mom, who was grinning down at her.

“Oh be quiet,” Grace said, blushing furiously. Elizabeth laughed.

“I didn’t say anything,” she said, while pushing Grace into the room. She walked toward the end of the line, where a tall girl was standing. She smiled down at Grace when they wheeled her around to face forward.

“Hi! I’m Lilly!” she said excitedly, holding out her hand to shake. Grace laughed nervously.

“I’m Grace,” she started, then explained that she couldn’t shake hands, but bumping elbows would be fine. Lilly bumped elbows with her, a huge grin filling her face.

“Are you so excited to meet Shawn??” she asked, her excitement contagious. “I have never met him before! He seems like the sweetest guy though!” Grace smiled up at her. Because Grace was sitting in her chair, the girl seemed even taller.

“I am,” Grace said with a smile. “I have met him once. He really is the sweetest.” Grace wasn’t exactly lying. Lilly started talking about how excited she was and how long she saved up for the tickets. Grace added to the conversation when appropriate, but couldn’t help but feel like someone was staring at her. She looked around and locked eyes with the girl from the Q&A. Grace smiled kindly at her, then turned her attention back to Lilly.

“Do you have a Tumblr?” Lilly asked, pulling out her phone. Grace smiled and nodded. They exchanged blog names and followed each other. “Yay! We are Shawn friends.” They continued talking as the line started moving forward. Elizabeth stood behind Grace and pushed her chair when they started to move forward, smiling. She loved that Grace was making friends.

Soon, it was Lilly’s turn to go meet Shawn. She was beaming and told Grace she would see her at the concert as she ran off toward the curtained entrance. Grace smilied after her. She glanced up at her mom, who was smiling.

“I really love how excited he makes you,” was all she said, but Grace’s stomach did flips. Her head whipped forward as the guard, someone other than Josh this time, called out that it was Grace’s turn to go in. She wheeled herself toward the entrance, handing her phone to her mom to take the picture. She turned the corner and smiled when her eyes met Shawn’s.

“Grace!” he called out, excited to see her, though they had just seen each other 30 minutes ago.

“Hi Shawn,” she said as she wheeled herself toward him. Shawn went to squat down in front of her, but she stopped him. He looked down at her confused. Grace looked up at him.

“Can I ask for a favor?” Grace asked. Shawn answered immediately.

“Anything.”

“I was wondering if you could help me stand up…” she trailed off. Shawn’s eyes lit up. He nodded to her and, with the help of the guard and her mom, got her in the position that she needed to be to just stand up and take the picture. Shawn asked what would be best to get her out of her chair and Grace explained that she would do most of it, but he would need to balance her, so she wouldn’t fall over.

“Oh, and I need to use your arm to hold myself up. I can do it, but you need to be strong so I can hold myself. If you lose your grip, I will fall.” Grace looked up at him.

“I promise. I will do whatever you need me to.” Grace motioned for him to put his forearm out in front of her, and she grabbed on. She ignored the sparks that flew through her body when she touched him. She took a deep breath and pulled herself out of her seat and into a somewhat standing position. Shawn’s other hand immediately went around to hold her lower back, stabilizing her. Grace smiled up at him. She mouthed “thank you”. Grace looked over to see her mom crying.

“Please, just take the picture mom,” Grace said, slightly exasperated at her reaction. Grace could feel her legs starting to give out, the day of commotion had its toll on her body, even if she was sitting, and grasped onto Shawn’s arm harder. Shawn looked down at her.

“Trust me?” Shawn asked, looking into her eyes.

“Of course,” Grace responded. She was doubting that answer when Shawn started moving his arm that she was holding onto, but let go when he motioned for her too. She immediately fell into him, but he held her up easily. From the outside, it looked like a tight hug. Grace looked up at him and nuzzled her face into his chest, trying not to cry again. Shawn pressed his lips into her hair.

“Okay kids,” Grace’s mom said from her place. She was sniffling. “Look at me and smile.” Grace glanced over at her mom, a big smile on her face. Elizabeth quickly took the picture and walked over to push Grace’s wheelchair close again. Shawn helped her back into her chair and then stooped down to her eye level.

“I will see you after the show, okay? Wait for me? I will come to you.” Shawn reached for her hands and Grace covered them with her sleeves. He glanced down at them. “If I wore gloves, could I hold your hands?” Grace laughed.

“What difference would it make, your gloves or my sleeves?” She laughed.

“Good point.”

“Besides, the more time I spend around you, the more your germs will get in my body and my body will, theoretically, create antibodies and I won’t have to wear this,” she said pointing to her hospital mask, “or touch you through clothes.” Grace’s eyes widened at what she just said, “I mean. Theoretically,” she added quickly. Shawn grinned at her.

“Wait for me, after the show, okay?” Grace nodded. Shawn stood and kissed the top of her head softly. He thanked Elizabeth for letting him get to know Grace better and gave her a quick hug. He reached down and hugged Grace from behind, sort of awkwardly, as she was sitting and he was standing, and then asked Josh, who had entered during your Meet and Greet, to take you up to your seats for the concerts.

“Wait for me, okay, Grace?” Shawn asked once again as Josh pushed you toward the door. Grace looked over her shoulder.

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Mendes!” she yelled out over her shoulder as Josh pushed her through the door. She barely heard Shawn laugh as the door clicked behind them.

[hot-mysticc-mess-blog]

I love your blog and I was wondering if you could write a headcanon for the RFA+V&Saeran when they see MC who they broke up with for something in the past. Like they miss her and want her, so how would they try to win her back. I'm sorry if I'm being a bit confusing.

My Masterlist

Zen

His contract to keep your relationship quiet, a new fantastic role, a rough patch he knows, in hindsight, was his fault.

He doesn’t really remember but he thinks your last argument was something about fish-shaped bread? How stupid.

It was awkward for a while. Zen used to leave the chatroom anytime you showed up, until you offered to leave in his place

He felt so guilty about it that he always stuck around, lamenting logging into the chatroom in case he found himself trapped watching you chat happily with everyone else

You seemed like you were doing so well

Even after that, the two of you ignored each other for the most part

He texted Yoosung party guest suggestions and made the poor boy ask in Zen’s place, even though he knew you were too nice to turn down a guest just because the suggestion came from your ex

He mellowed out as things got better in his career. He found a new girlfriend. She was pretty, and content with anything she could have of him, even if that did not include his love.

But you still saw each other at the party, and he was still absolutely taken with you

He caught himself staring, his eyes following as you moved throughout the room

A few drinks later and he was itching to touch you, kiss you, beg for your forgiveness

Would that be cheating?

Zen turned to his girlfriend. She caught his eye and smiled.

It would? Damn

His relationship lasted all of another two weeks before he broke it off

Zen tentatively starts conversations with you, notably reserved. Yoosung even mentioned the sharp drop-off in his narcissistic comments.

He spent every spare moment rehearsing the speech he was going to give you. And he waited, for the perfect moment.

Could he have texted you at any time? Or called? Absolutely.

But no, the perfect moment came at 3 AM one evening. Yoosung had just left the chatroom to play games, and Zen was just about to hit the exit button when your name popped up on screen

He spewed out his speech, taking up nearly three whole screens of the chat…and then he couldn’t stop

He just kept on babbling, whatever words he could think of that might get you to come back to him.

Jaehee

Nothing like internalized religious shame to ruin a relationship

It was always something she had fought with, but over time it became too much and she gave in

She was being too greedy, and it would hurt both of you in the end.

Your break-up was a quiet, soft discussion over coffee at table 7

Jaehee already did most of the administrative tasks for the cafe, but she took over what was left

She opened the cafe in the morning. You closed the cafe in the evenings. A manager relayed any communications.

You had never told the rest of the RFA you were together in the first place, and the breakup was somehow even more awkward for it

Things went back to the way they were…except not. It was like peeling a sticker from a bottle only to find that the invisible sticky residue had been left behind.

Jaehee was professional as always, you were polite as always, but everything hurt

The rest of the RFA noticed the gloom, Seven put the pieces together easily enough. Jumin at the very least suspected, which you put together when he offered both of you vague but particularly relevant advice

Jaehee immediately noticed how much she misses your presence

Running the cafe wasn’t half as much fun without you

Sitting at home and watching Zen’s musicals was still very relaxing…but not as enjoyable when she doesn’t have you to enjoy them with

She swears even her coffee isn’t as flavorful when you aren’t around.

She found herself up at wee hours of the morning most nights, looking at the crucifix up on her wall.

“Is this really what you want?” She asked, out loud to an empty house.  

She finally found happiness…why was she sabotaging it for herself?

The next day she came by right at the end of your shift, clinging to a clipboard with the inventory documents in order to avoid anxiously fidgeting.

“MC?” Her voice came out more unsure than she had hoped for. “Would you mind have a cup of coffee with me?”

Audibly sighed with relief when you agreed

She waits until the awkward silence takes over before speaking

“I think, no, I made a mistake when I broke up with you. I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, that I was being too greedy by wanting the coffee shop and such a close relationship with you. I should have just spoken with you about it. You were the one who made me want to chase my happiness, and I wanted to build this cafe with you, together. My life is better with you by my side.”

“Of course, I understand if you don’t want to but I…I would like to try again.”

Yoosung

The process of breaking up was a messy, three weeks of arguing. The actual break-up lasted all of twenty-four hours

School was hard, and you understood that, but he was irritable all the time

Everything that everyone did annoyed him and you two found yourselves arguing over anything he looked at

He brought your fights into the chat room, even when you tried to keep negative conversation to private texts

You suggested maybe he should take a break

He took that phrase, and interpreted it to mean something you hadn’t intended at all. “If we need to take a break, then we shouldn’t be together at all! We’re done!”

Yoosung had about twenty-four hours of rage-based satisfaction before your absence caught up to him

By then, the RFA found out from you what happened.

Zen was torn between his closest friend and you. You told him you would be alright, and that he did not need to come and see you

That was good, because Yoosung arrived at Zen’s apartment 10 minutes later.

Zen updated the chatroom later that evening, letting everyone know Yoosung drank a can of beer, cried, and then Zen put him to bed on the couch

Yoosung was back up again at three am, alone in a chatroom frantically typing out how much he missed you while he paced in Zen’s living room

Then he started calling

You woke up to several voicemails, all apologies from Yoosung

Jumin

He swore he would never let you go. Even when things were bad he couldn’t bring himself to get a divorce

Instead, the two of you separated. Though he felt he could no longer provide support for your emotional well-being, he offered his continued financial support.

The polite refusal you gave him, tears in your eyes and hands on your suitcase, made his chest tighten. He loosened his tie, hoping that would make it feel easier to breathe.

Zen spent the next week with you in Rika’s apartment, doting on your every need and bitching about Jumin every chance he got

Jumin threw himself into his work

He went back to treating you professionally. Seven made the mistake of joking about your newly single status only once before he discovered Jumin’s wrath was not worth it.

You spent the next several months trying to untangle your life from Jumin’s, knowing it would never fully work

Jumin tried to convince himself things would be okay without you. Love was a foolish endeavor. Work was the only thing that mattered.

But you had changed him, and now all of a sudden the idea of going back to a life without love, without the light you brought into his life make his heart ache.

Jaehee took over any communication that involved you, relaying any questions and information Jumin needed.

He made sure that was nothing for the first couple of months, even to the point of procrastinating on things that needed to be done just so he could avoiding saying your name

There were little things you left all around the house by accident. He couldn’t go anywhere without being reminded of you. He left them alone at first, refusing to touch them. If it was in the path of somewhere he needed to go, he had a maid remove it.

Slowly, he started gathering them all up. Whenever he would find something that was yours, he would store it in a box he kept on nightstand on your side of the bed. One day, he would send it to you.

The party came around. The entire RFA is on edge, anxious about the two of you seeing each other for the first time in nearly a year.

Seven helped you get ready beforehand. He made sure you looked great, even without Jumin’s designer gowns and personal stylists.

Jumin had never sent you the box with the last of your things, nor any divorce papers.

Yoosung and Seven had far too much fun pretending to “scout” for you, checking the entire venue for Jumin before you go inside. When he arrived, you knew because your cell phone vibrated four consecutive times with text alerts from the other RFA members

Jumin caught your eye a couple of times, you look away and continue your mingling, but the moment he saw you he knew exactly why he had never fully ended things with you: he never wanted your relationship to end

Those vows he took at the alter when he married you, he meant every word. A year of separation and all the arguments in the world would never change that. He wanted to fix things…but did you?

Jumin kept an eye on you while he networked with other guests, until he finally saw you wander to a quieter corner of the main room for a brief respite.

He ended the conversation he was having rather abruptly, in favor of approaching you with two glasses of wine in hand.

“MC?” He held out one of the glasses for you. “Would you be willing to try couple’s therapy?”

Saeyoung

He thought he could keep you safe from the agency. You were the one who made him believe that

And he could, from his original agency, but then a new agency started to recruit him just as he was getting his civilian life with you in place.

The two of you were engaged now…but if you got married, then your bond would be on paper.

He let his thoughts spiral, panicked one evening at the third attempt to infiltrate his security systems. It didn’t work, of course, but the potential threat was still there.

He pre-packed your things, set up a tracker on your phone, and arranged a Buber to take you to Jumin’s penthouse

The break up was quick. You were in the car and moved out of the house before you had time to process anything that happened.

After you two break up, Saeyoung went quiet.

No one knew if he was actually reading the chat logs at all, but the entire RFA spoke out, asking him to talk to you, to explain what happened, eventually just to say anything

Saeyoung spoke only with Jumin, and did all his work from behind the scenes.

Saeran gave semi-regular updates on his brother in the chatroom after reading the third chat log of you begging to know if he was okay. His brother’s relationship shouldn’t have been any of his business, but he liked you. You were a good person, and no one seemed to understand why Saeyoung did it.

Your role in the RFA only grew. It was rough at first, but the entire RFA was supportive in helping you get back on your feet.

Saeyoung read all the chat logs, including the messages you left for him. He kept an eye on where you were at all times, back to checking on you every 2.35 seconds in his bunker. He made sure to never look you in the eyes, lest it break his resolve.

Saeran lived with him now, but the house was quiet without you around. The twins’ relationship was still tense, but this had just made it worse.

At first, it was just more petty arguments than usual. Then, Saeran started asking why Saeyoung left MC. When Saeyoung wouldn’t answer, it became constant displeased grumbling every time they passed each other. Eventually, it became an outright fight.

“They didn’t do a damn thing and you left them! You left them just like you left me!”

“It’s for her protection Saeran! I took took care of my agency, but if we get married they’re going to be a target for anyone that wants our skills!”

“Did something happen? Did you even talk to them about this!? Why didn’t you ask me for help?”

“I don’t need help. If I told them why I wanted to end things, they wouldn’t have let me do it. It was for their safety. This was the best option.”

“And how did your idea of ‘the best option’ work out for everyone last time!?” Saeran slams his hand down on Saeyoung’s desk, knocking over a long cat bobble toy you had given him as a gift. Saeran’s eyes welled with tears, hands shaking with rage. “MC knew exactly what they were getting into! You had no right to just kick them out of our lives!”

Saeyoung looks up at his brother with wide eyes. Was this what you looked like right now too? Was that the expression and the emotion and the reality that he had been avoiding?

The next day he showed up with a eleven robotic roses that meowed like cats, an IOU for a kitten, and one rose that played a recording of him saying ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again

The sound was awful

Not his best idea

V/ Jihyun

He was the one who decided he was not okay with making you wait

It had been two years of barely keeping in contact

Another cancelled ticket. Another stub for the scrapbook. Another RFA party he would miss, not that he did anything for the group anymore.

You had been amazingly understanding, as usual, even when he broke your heart.

Yoosung already hated him. Jumin was getting a little frustrated, and the rest of the RFA expected him to never really come back. Him breaking up with you? You were the only one particularly heart-broken by the loss.

Everywhere he went, he saw you. Greece, Africa, The United States, Egypt. No matter what country he was in he would see someone on the street and for a few seconds he would be convinced it was you.

God knows how many times he whipped around in the middle of the street only to find himself staring at someone who was…decidedly not you.

Until one day, on a brief return to Korea, when he whipped around and he swore he saw your face. Not the back of your head, not you hands or your clothes, your face.  

“MC?”

You turn to look at him, surprised to see him after all these years.

At first, it just starts with an invitation to a cafe

He’s friendly and kind and apologizes for how things went between the two of you

Of course he wants you back, but he’s not going to force it. He was the one who broke the two of you up to begin with, and he has done nothing to earn your respect or love.

So…he stayed. And he texted. And he logged on to the RFA app to speak with all the members. He rented a studio and slept there on a couch in the back room while he put a life back together in Korea.

Things still aren’t perfect, but he’s trying. He has a place here, and friends, a life he can offer to share now.

He waits until the next RFA party ends, and catches you as you stow away one of the crystal centerpieces for the tables.

“I hope I’m not ruining you evening with this request…would you want to go out on a date with me?”

Saeran

The two of you started your relationship way too early.

He thought he was better now, that he could just live his life

But one day, the feelings hit him hard, like a ton of bricks. All of the progress, all of the work he did to get himself back where he was disappeared.

What was the point? What was the point of trying when it was all going to come back with no warning for the rest of his life?

He doesn’t even remember exactly when he broke up with you, because you never left his side.

It was somewhere between not eating for two days and Saeyoung checking him back into the psychiatric hospital.

“Go home already!” He would shout. You had no idea why, he had been okay with you here just a moment before.

It was because he noticed the glimmer of sadness in your eyes, or the way your expression drooped with disappointment.

Eventually, he got better. They released him from the hospital, but you stopped coming by so often.

It used to be you were there every single day, now you come  by sometimes to talk to Saeyoung, and check in on him briefly before you flee the bunker.

You got eerily quiet in the chatroom; even when he wasn’t around, you just weren’t quite as bright as you had been

He missed seeing you smile. He missed hearing your voice.

It’s another night of being up at three am. Another night of Saeyoung hovering around him, like if he looks away Saeran might try to hurt himself again.

An infomercial for some terrible super fruit health drink is on, and it reminds him of the time he tapped your shoulder to tell you his snarky comment about it, only to find you had fallen asleep on his shoulder.

You were the best thing to ever happen to him

He picks up his phone, and opens the text log.

i’m sorry for what I said

I wish you’d come by more often

I miss you

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hey! Love your blog! Keep doing what you're doing!! I was wondering if you had any fics where Stiles is Derek's anchor and/or Stiles finding out that he is Derek's anchor? Thanks so much!

AND

jayden-nara said:Got any post-season 3 fix-it fics after that scene where Stiles clearly has become Derek's anchor? Preferably longer, but I'll take anything, really.

Yes! (I attempted this three different times! My laptop and then the internet was being a butt.) - Anastasia

Originally posted by girlmeetssterek

Why You by MellytheHun

(1/1 I 2,696 I Teen)

Chris Argent is still anti-werewolf, Scott has floppy hair and Derek is still an unhelpful Alpha.

Hold On, Hold Tight (make it through another night) by callunavulgari

(1/1 I 2,940 I Teen)

“You feel important,” Derek finally blurts out, the tips of his ears going red the second the words are out of his mouth.

Stiles blinks at him. “What?”

Baby-faced Derek bites his lip again, which is… distracting. “Something is wrong,” he finally says, slowly. “I don’t know what, because none of you are telling me anything—” and ah, there’s a hint of the old Derek. Stiles would recognize that scowl anywhere. “—but I know that everything smells wrong. And that I can’t feel mom anymore. I can’t feel anyone, except for you.”

The Hardest Thing In This World by yodasyoyo

(1/1 I 4,705 I Teen)

Stiles is not a wolf, but he has the heart of one.

--

After the Hale fire, Derek and Laura go to stay with the Stilinskis, and end up finding more there than they could ever have hoped for

Hermit and the Wildman by Green

(1/1 I 9,428 I Teen)

Since coming into his magic, Stiles lives a life of seclusion deep in the Preserve. Derek comes to him, half-feral and in trouble. Maybe Stiles needs Derek just as much as Derek seems to need him.

Timshel by jsea

(2/2 I 12,569 I Teen)

Derek lets Scott kill Peter for the cure at the end of S1. This is the story of how that choice changes everyone's fate.

"Sir, you should know..." Derek starts to say, then snaps his mouth closed when the Sheriff takes one hand off the steering wheel, and holds it up in a halting gesture.

"You're not a bad kid, Derek."

"I'm a werewolf," Derek says, before he can think about it. For the first time in his life the word feels dirty, like something to be ashamed of. It makes him feel like a little kid again, using a curse word without understanding what it means.

Sparks and shadows by Nival_Vixen

(7/7 I 21,503 I Mature)

Stiles has to figure out a way to maintain a balance between his spark and the darkness inside of him.

hope is the thing with feathers by ShanaStoryteller

(1/1 I 28,959 I Teen)

Stiles is ten when he saves the Hales from their burning home and Derek from a wolfsbane bullet, and this establishes a pattern that seem to continue indefinitely.

"Then he's facing a burning home, and he wraps the hood of his sweatshirt around his mouth before he pushes the door open and steps inside. There's Mr. Hale asleep - he hopes asleep - on the couch, next to - Stiles thinks that's his brother but there are so many Hales, who can keep track. He rushes over and starts shaking him, can see the rise and fall of the man's chest so he knows he's alive, but he's not waking up.

He shoves away his hood so he can shout, "Mr. Hale! You have to get up, there's a fire! Mr. Hale, get up!" Nothing, he's not even twitching, both of them taking in deep even breaths like they're having the most peaceful of rests, and Stiles is going to cry. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

There's a moment, where all Stiles can hear is the blood rushing in his ears and not the roar of the flames or the creak of wood, then with a violent, silent pop it's all back and both of the men are gasping awake, eyes open and jumping to their feet. "

Serendipity by mynamjo

(28/28 I 45,141 I Explicit)

Derek moves back to Beacon Hills to open up his new art gallery when he meets a blind boy who won't leave him alone.

You Sleep Alone by defenselesswriter

(14/14 I 54,429 I Mature)

The nemeton brings back the sacrifices...plus one more. One could say there is magic in the air.

Title and chapter titles are from the song You Sleep Alone by Hellogoodbye, my go to writing music.

Just what I wanted: Sterek. by CheekyDoodles

(23/? I 71,261 I Explicit)

What happens after Derek almost kills Stiles? Derek takes responsibility for his actions, growing closer to Stiles each day through interesting circumstances.

Warning: the plot is questionable.

Anything for the Pack: Beginning by Mishteeshim

(25/25 I 73,564 I General)

Everyone in Beacon Hills more inhuman than human knew about the new Hale Pack. If you were tired, they offered respite. If you were hunted, they offered shelter. If you were being followed, they hid your scent.

In Beacon Hills you were under the protection of the Pack, if you followed their rules.

Stiles The Teen Wolf Season One by AkemiAsh

(13/13 I 79,540 I Mature)

What if it hadn't been Scott. What if it'd actually been Stiles who was bitten that night? When the werewolf shoe was on the other foot, Stiles isn't the one supporting anymore, he is the one who needs support, but with Allison Argent capturing Scott's attention, who will support the newly turned werewolf? Sterek Werewolf!Stiles Human!Scott

A Wolf In Wolf's Clothing by alexenglish

(8/8 I 81,835 I Explicit)

The pack of Beacon Hills' past transgressions are about to converge on them, and Derek stumbles out of the forest with no recent memories and straight into a pack he doesn't know, with an alpha and an anchor he can't possibly remember.

The Masks We Wear by vixenviews (alteringviews)

(21/21 I 155,696 I Not Rated)

Three years ago, Stiles left Beacon Hills looking for answers to the magical clusterfuck he'd become. Now he's returned to find that the Alpha has changed, his best friend is a ranking pack member, and Jackson is an emotionally screwed faerie. Yet, Beacon Hills hasn't changed a bit.

Lenara says it's because it was waiting for the last piece on the board to return to its proper position. And even though she's a bit of a pervy gmilf (but seriously how old is she?), she's always right. But it can't ever be as simple as that because Stiles has been hiding behind masks for so long, he isn't sure who he is any longer.

Between Counsel designs, forgotten memories, the unstable barrier, magical catastrophes, and residual insecurities, Stiles, Derek, and the Beacon Pack must come into themselves, their place in Beacon Hills and trust each other if they want to make it out alive.

Curtains back, masks on...Let the show begin.

The Hale Pack by Francey_Pants, Missmusiclover573

(29/? I 236,834 I Teen)

Scott and Stiles weren't separated that night in the woods. Both boys were bitten and turned. With both boys struggling with the change, will things turn out differently? Or end in the same amount of pain and suffering?

[cannabisrefugee-esq]

The last day of my life was sometime in February, 2013 the day before I was first diagnosed with Crohn’s disease, a progressive and incurable automimmune disease that targets the digestive tract.  As many people with Crohn’s probably know, and as none of us is allowed to think or say out loud, your life is essentially over once you get a Crohn’s diagnosis.  If not from the disease itself then from the treatments.

The disease itself is absolutely horrific and I saw it in my doctor’s eyes when she first broke the news and many times thereafter.  The first doctor in the practice to meet with me, right after diagnosing me said, “You need to get insurance immediately, if not sooner.”  I naively asked if that was because most Crohn’s patients needed surgery; she said no.  I didn’t understand what she meant but I was at the very beginning of my Crohn’s journey and just made a note of it.  I could tell that something was seriously wrong and about to get worse.  I mean, obviously.  If surgery and even repeated surgeries isn’t the worst thing in my future as a Crohn’s patient then what is?  I was already queasy from the Crohn’s related nausea but what she was saying, and not saying, unsettled me.

The second doctor in the practice to meet with me said, “You are an attorney, you are educated, intelligent and have research skills.  You should research this disease and all the treatments available to you.”  I didn’t know what he meant. After meeting with him for several follow-up appointments, when we had developed what I felt was a mutual professional respect, I considered telling him I would be at Starbucks later that evening if there was something he needed to tell me away from the office and away from prying eyes.  What did he mean and why couldn’t he just tell me about all the available treatments himself?  At the time, the research I had done indicated that the conventional treatments for Crohn’s don’t work much; that Crohn’s patients have an extremely low quality of life; and the best “alternative” treatment available was a so-called elemental diet, an enteric feed called Vivonex, a sickly looking yellow fluid that’s meant to be taken through a feeding tube but you can drink it straight if you can stomach it.  I bought several months’ worth at about a thousand dollars a month and tried my best.  It didn’t work.  And despite also taking the prescribed treatments including Pentasa, Entocort and Prednisone, I was getting steadily worse.

I was reading online Crohn’s forums and reading about patients who had been living with Crohn’s disease for decades, as well as the recently diagnosed, and the absolute hell they had been going through with medications, procedures and repeated surgeries that did nothing but make them feel worse in the end.  No pun intended.  Some people found success with different treatments only to find their effectiveness short-lived.  Normally I would concede that those patients who were satisfied with their treatments and with their quality of life would be out living their lives and not commiserating on an online forum, and therefore I would take the published accounts with a grain of salt.  But in this case I noticed a pattern: many of the patients writing on the forums had been getting some relief from their treatments for a time but the treatments eventually failed.  What I was reading were both the treatment failures and the treatment successes in that sense.  Where are the Crohn’s patients who respond well to the treatments forever and don’t feel traumatized, stigmatized, disabled, or have other reasons to publicly talk about it?  I have no idea.  I have never met one.  I understand that they are probably out there somewhere but the truth is, even they won’t know what group they themselves fall into until they die.  Just because they are getting relief from their symptoms right now means nothing.

Eventually, I fell down the rabbit hole of researching medical cannabis for various conditions, including Crohn’s.  Is this what my second doctor had been referring to when he told me to research what was out there?  Cannabis was still illegal in my home state, not to mention outside the “official” accepted standard of care for Crohn’s, so that could’ve easily been what he meant and he just couldn’t legally say it. After reading and viewing hundreds of blog posts, medical journal articles, and YouTube videos on cannabis and Crohn’s, I suspected it was.  I had been treating with prescription medications for 2 years and was feeling my health, energy and life slipping away.  I was getting worse and at a terrifying pace.  I had no idea what was in store for me and I had no idea it was even possible to be that sick — I had always assumed that there was some threshold of pain and suffering, some Agony Index at the pinnacle of which you would simply die.  Essentially, I had always assumed that something this relentlessly painful would be fatal.  I started to panic as I understood that it just might be possible to be this sick, or even sicker, indefinitely, and that at some point I would probably lose my mind from the pain.  What happened next seems a blur.

My Pentasa wasn’t working anymore and the next course of action was to get on an infusion treatment that basically gives you AIDS: it destroys your immune system.  You get all the opportunistic infections of an AIDS patient including thrush, pneumonia, and even cancer as so-called side-effects of the medication. Meanwhile, Crohn’s itself is not curable and is progressive, meaning that it never goes away and only gets worse.  So then, looking down that road, you have Crohn’s, AIDS, and cancer to contend with and all that comes with each condition including more treatment, more side-effects and more opportunities for medical accidents, treatment failures and complications up to and including death.  I suspect that actor Shannen Doherty took this treatment for her well-known case of Crohn’s and that the Crohn’s medication caused her cancer in the end.  I suspect the same thing happened to my fitness trainer who had an autoimmune disease and ended up with cancer too.  I began to see my own future.  And I was so desperate to have even a temporary respite from the agony of Crohn’s I was going to take the medication anyway.  I was tested for tuberculosis — a precondition to having your immune system decimated because any active infection at that point can kill you — and I was going to start the infusion treatments as soon as possible.  Everything up to this point had been either free samples of medication or self-pay and I was prepared to pay additional thousands of dollars if it meant I would find some relief — the infusions alone were to be something like $4,000 each, to be repeated every 8 weeks.

In the meantime, I had taken the first doctor’s advice and applied for health insurance.  Because I had not worked as an attorney for about 4 years by then and had started a small business that was compatible with my new and worsening disability I applied as an uninsured person through Obamacare which placed me on Medicaid due to my small income.   The first thing Medicaid did was deny the Crohn’s medicine I was already on (Pentasa, which didn’t work much anyway if at all) and then my doctors fired me because they didn’t take Medicaid.  Without a doctor, any plans for the infusions were put on indefinite hold.  At that point, because I had practiced benefits and anti-poverty law for years, I knew where I was headed: in and out of the hospital and fighting with Medicaid to approve maddeningly ineffective medicines and treatments and brutal, gravely dangerous ones, all of whose known side effects could be just as bad as if not worse than the disease itself, and where even a favorable resolution to the Medicaid issue would easily take months if not years to achieve.  All the while suffering with the hellish, unrelenting agony of un- and undertreated Crohn’s.  I knew what I had to do.

I packed one suitcase and made a reservation at a vacation rental property in a cannabis-friendly state where I had planned to stay for 2 months and treat with medical cannabis.  I had hoped that I would get better and go home but it’s now been 3 years and I am still here.  I have gotten significant pain relief and improvement in my Crohn’s symptoms which I consider a hard-won and unlikely personal success.   Nothing can diminish that and I am immensely grateful to have gotten some relief.  But now I have spent my life savings, liquidated my assets, and maxed out and destroyed my credit, and although I have worked on my small business as best I could, almost everything is gone. I will soon be facing homelessness as a chronically ill cannabis refugee.  Because I have refused Western medical treatments for my illness I am not eligible for disability-based benefits.  My attempt to “help myself” financially by starting a small business has complicated my finances such that I am not eligible for any need-based benefits at all, or anytime soon.

Not knowing what else to do, and wishing to document my experiences, I have started this blog.  It is intended to be a very short-term project where I will record my insights and what I have learned from my relatively new station as a chronically ill person in the context of Western patriarchal and capitalist medicine, and my resistance to it.  I hope to absolutely excoriate Western medicine’s treatment of Crohn’s and other serious illness; to rail against the disability- and income-based benefits structure where so many sick, injured and otherwise vulnerable people fall through the cracks; to describe my treatment successes and failures, including my treatment with medical marijuana (also known as medical cannabis, medical pot, or MMJ); to describe the crushing disappointment and sorrow I have experienced through family and friends’ failure or willful refusal to really “get” what Crohn’s is all about, what Crohn’s patients go through and how disabling Crohn’s can be; and hopefully to find a solution to the untenable situation in which I currently find myself.  At the very least, I will find some comfort knowing that I have spoken the truth aloud about my experience as a Crohn’s patient disaffected with Western patriarchal and capitalist medicine; as a cannabis refugee; and as an attorney who in the end, may be unable to help even myself successfully navigate the social, legal and financial hardships of a serious chronic illness.

To all Crohn’s patients — and all those seriously ill and disabled — who may find themselves reading here, I offer my empathy for you and your condition, my understanding of your plight, and my sincerest hope that you will find some comfort somewhere, whether through successful traditional or alternative treatment, miraculous or spontaneous remission, or simply by reading these words and the words of other truth-tellers online and off.  To Crohn’s patients specifically, I have received tremendous comfort and knowledge from reading your testimonies on online support forums and your truth-telling has soothed my soul and enriched my mind.  I hope to return the favor by recording my truths here, especially those that are taboo, contrary, uncomfortable, and rarely addressed.  Please feel free to comment here or contact me using the contact form at the top of the page.  I can’t promise I will respond, but know that I will read your words, and that I feel you.  I really, really feel you.

[wanderlustwonderlots]

Paris - Day 4 (Giverny)

Today wasn’t really a Paris day, but in fact a day trip to Vernon/Giverny, to see Monet’s gardens!  I did this on my last full day in France on my last trip, but I actually never blogged about it, because I was exhausted after arriving back from my trip and never got around to it.  Not to worry, I’ll wax on about this year’s trip here!

It was a slightly early rise and a quick trip to the train station to catch the train to Vernon, about an hour and a half ride.  Had we missed this we would have been in trouble, with only one train in the morning and one in the evening! We got there with time to spare but it was a very full train so ended up not sitting all together.  I spent the ride writing up my last blog post on my phone, so it was time well spent.  I suppose I could have been looking out at the scenery, but I’d already done the ride once before and landscapes are just landscapes after a while.  Since I was well occupied, the ride flew by and soon enough we were in Vernon.  Right after walking out of the train station we came upon the “Petit Train de Giverny,” an adorable little car with multiple segments done up to look like a tiny train.  We could have taken the bus from Vernon to Giverny, which takes the same time and is only a few euros more expensive, but I knew the petit train! I took it two years ago and it was so funny and cute so I had been talking it up to my parents.  We got our tickets, hopped on, and drove past the line of suckers waiting for the shuttle bus.  The petit train takes you through the town of Vernon, and there’s an audio tour broadcasted through the cars that tells you about the history and significance of the town.  I couldn’t tell you much about it because a lot of the time historical information flies right out of my head, but it was a town tossed back and forth between the English and the French during various wars, it had a beautiful cathedral and remnants of an old mill and castle. The guide also of course had lots to say about the artists that loved Vernon and nearby Giverny.  

It was an overcast morning and I was most definitely not dressed for the weather so I was mighty chilly on the ride over (in just a t-shirt and skirt), but shortly after we arrived in Giverny, 20 minutes later, blue skies had begun to start appearing.  Our plan was thus to start with the Musée des Impressionnismes and after that move on to Monet’s gardens, hoping that it would be sunny by then.  We walked up through the town and were greeted by gorgeous hedged gardens outside the museum.  As I read on a sign later, the gardens were actually designed by an architect, I believe the same one that designed the museum, though I could be mistaken.  Designed in 1991, the gardens are arranged by monochromatic plots, retaining their colour schemes throughout various blooming seasons.  One of the gardens was entirely herbs and aromatic plants, including thyme, basil, chives, mint, basil, rhubarb, greens, you name it!  We could run our hands through the plants and smell them after to take in all the different herbs.  It was nice to already be surrounded by nature, just walking around the town.  Even the residents’ small gardens, rose trees, and flowers lining the streets were beautiful.

In the museum was an exhibit on Japanese-inspired impressionism, showing pieces of Japanese art such as prints, sketches, and paintings that inspired French impressionists, as well as their works that followed these “exotic” styles.  As much as I love impressionism, I don’t know much about its history, so had no idea that Japanese art was such a big influence on some of my favourite painters - Monet, Van Gogh, Caillbotte, Pissarro, Degas, to name a few.  I just find the style to be so enrapturing.  Seeing this side of French Impressionist history was really interesting.  

At the end of the museum was a special exposition on Hiramatsu Reiji, a Japanese artist who was in turn inspired by Monet’s paintings and his water garden.  He saw Monet’s art in a museum in Paris and decided to plan a trip around the countryside that Monet painted so much.  The pieces in this exposition were of the water lilies, through a definite Japanese eye.  I thought it was fascinating to see the inspiration come full circle, and Hiramatsu’s work was stunning, with so many bright colours and patterns, and vibrant, shiny golds.

Leaving the museum we finished exploring the surrounding gardens and headed down the picturesque road to Monet’s property.  Thankfully at the museum we had bought a combined ticket and were able to skip the long, long line to get into Monet’s.  Th town and its tourist points were SO much more crowded than the last time I was there!  Granted, I had gone in mid-August, and this had turned out to be a beautiful sunny day in May on a long weekend, so people had come from all over.  To be honest, the crowds spoiled the experience slightly, but I really can’t complain even a little bit when I’m in one of my favourite places that I’ve ever been to. Besides, the more people that get to experience the magic of the place, the better.

We started with the water gardens.  It was too early to see all of the water lilies, though I think we found 3 total that had bloomed! Last time I was too late, and this time too early, so I’ll just have to come a third time to catch them.  The lily pads were still just as amazing to see, strewn across the pond in their little floral flotillas. I got to explore the surrounding gardens like they were new to me because so many different flowers and trees were in bloom.  There were explosions of colour everywhere, making every ten steps a new scene of smells and sights. I took so many photos and still nothing can come close to showing how calm and enchanting the waterscapes and landscapes are.  Pinks and purples and reds around every bend, wisteria like streamers overhead, tall bamboo rustling and clacking together, foxglove and lupins vibrant among other flowers, lush greens brushing against your legs, willows so long and graceful, blowing in the breeze and nearly skimming the pond.  And amidst it all, birdsong carrying over the hum of people, a reminder that this spot is a celebration of nature herself.  

Being in this place makes me so happy that I could cry.  Seeing what Monet envisioned, brought to life, and then painted gave me goosebumps and put the most serene smile on my face. I took my sweet time despite the constant stream of people going through the gardens as well, and spent as long as I wanted to taking it all in, looking at all of the blooms and the bees working hard to pollinate them.  I’ll be damned if I’m going to be rushed through this.  After we felt we had experienced the water gardens to the fullest, we crossed back over to the gardens outside Monet’s cottage.  

The most striking thing about these gardens was the amount of irises they contained.  So many different varieties, each seeming to smell sweeter than the last.  A deep, silky purple that was near black; pale blue with a dark stripe down the middle of each petal; sunny yellow so joyful; pure white, and white with rich purple petals; soft lavender.  There were also more types of poppies than I have ever seen! My mom was so happy to see both of these abundances of flowers, two of her favourites.  The many different roses added even more sweetness to the air.  All the colours and smells in the hot, early summer air could almost transport me away from the throngs of people around me. These gardens are so well cultivated and maintained, and I have a lot of respect for the groundskeepers that make this place the slice of paradise that it is.  I really consider myself blessed to be able to come here twice now, and feel completely content, absolutely full of wonder.  I don’t know that anything will ever compare to how I feel when I’m in these gardens.  Maybe that sounds like an overstatement, but it’s true. I hope that the way I write about it helps to convey exactly how dreamy the gardens are, and how much they mean to me.

We decided not to go into Monet’s cottage, as the line was extremely long, and we wanted to have lunch before making our way back to the petit train and Vernon.  There was only one train to Paris, so we absolutely had to make it.  The benches around the core part of the town were in high demand and we wanted a shady spot for lunch, so we settled on some grass beneath a nice thicket of trees to eat the baguette and cheese we packed.  We had some fruit earlier in the day, after the museum, but this was a much needed respite from the people to sit down in the shade and recharge.  A bird was watching us for most of our little lunch, and my mom kept tossing it tiny morsels of bread and cheese so it could join us.  I know, not the best thing to do, but it was so cute and came so close to us!  We finished our lunch with the bird, packed up, and headed back to wait for the petit train.

The trip back to Vernon was a bit stressful because we were damn close to the train’s departure, and both the petit train and the big train back to Paris were packed full, but we made it.  After getting into Paris we picked up some ravioli and salad to have for dinner at home, to which we invited Etienne.  It was a lovely supper at home after having a lot of meals out, which I appreciated.  We had a nice red wine to drink, along with a crisp cider, and a few beers to finish.  Quite the lushes!  Mostly we were trying to finish everything we had in the fridge before our departure to the south of France.  In any case, it ended up being a great evening, concluded with a board game of course.  We said goodbye to Etienne until next weekend (when he’ll kindly pick us up from the train station in Dijon to go to his parents’ house), and packed up our things for our flight the next day.

It was a wonderful day to wrap up our short time in Paris, and another experience I won’t forget.  I hope you enjoyed reading about today’s adventure, and got a glimpse into how I feel about nature and about Monet.  Next up is the south of France!

[yoitssabrinee]

Respite

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @inconsistencys!!! MY FIRST FRIEND ON TUMBLR SINCE I JOINED THE FANDOM AND SHE’S NOW CELEBRATING ANOTHER YEAR SHE GET TO SPEND IN HER LIFE!

I owe her so much for bringing a good spark for my writing, her blog was among the first of the firsts I’ve ever stalked seen and browsed through when I first came to this fandom. A very very chill person and very very nice too! Also very adorable and Prompto would be a real lucky dude to have you as his life partner! <3

HERE’S YOUR BIRTHDAY PRESENT, EM! I KNOW IT’S NOT MUCH BUT FSJHFAD I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!! <33

Prompto Argentum x Reader.

The walk back home felt long, somehow. Long, and warm, and sweltering, and far too hot for your liking. And the heat from the asphalt had somehow seeped into your shoes, warming your feet, and causing sweat to accumulate beneath the unfortunately thick socks you chose to wear on that particular day; many a time, you’ve slipped on cement, not from the slope of the ground as it led you uphill, then downhill, away from the hell that was your college campus, but from slipping on the sweat absorbed by your socks.

Because fuck Saturdays, really--who the hell thought of making replacement classes on a goddamn weekend?

Your climb up the steps to your apartment felt somewhat sluggish and slow, becoming even slower the more you thought about how soft your bed would feel like under your body once you've thrown yourself into it. Cool sheets, pillows that felt like feathers under your heat, the warmth of another body cradling you or being cradled by you... you nearly sigh at the thought, fingers fumbling for the keys as soon as you reached the door with the nameplate ARGENTUM fixed over it, wanting no more than to fling yourself into oblivion and forget about the rest of the world for a while.

The lock opened without resistance; someone had forgotten to keep it locked. Brows furrowed, you pushed the door open, only to be met with total darkness.

It was--black. Pitch black, and it took your eyes a moment to adjust in the dark, making out the vestibule which was somehow clean and not cluttered with a plethora of shoes and umbrella like how you'd left it earlier in the morning. You make out a pair of boots, neatly tucked to the side, somehow not upside down and in one perfect pair of two instead of one. And everything smelled--clean.

You did a double take, and sniffed the air again.

Was that... lavender, that you smelled?

Lavender, and probably a bit of sage, and some hints of roses and jasmine mixed in, and other things you thought you knew but couldn’t name. Milk, and an assortment of cinnamon and other spices you couldn't make out as well. All your favorite scents, all in one place.

Despite all the calming scents, it didn't stave off the wave of suspicion and anticipation that was beginning to build inside you.

Your suspicion heightened the moment soft music began to play in the dark background.

"Prompto?" you called, shutting the door and letting black engulf you, trusting the map your eyes made earlier to guide you through as you dropped your shoes and sweat-stained socks at the vestibule. Somehow, the silence made your hesitation all the more apparent; you were scared to venture forward. "Baby? Are you home?"

All at once, every bit of light available in the house began to illuminate, and it was so sudden, and so blinding that you had to close your eyes for a moment, then opening them to adjust again.

The music was still playing in the background; you took note of the beat and tempo of the sound, coming to the realization that—your favorite song was on.

Suddenly giddy and with some hesitation left, you stepped forward, following the sound which led you straight to your living room.

And your jaw went slack.

What you thought was the crisp white blanket you’ve just put in the dryer in this morning was hung over the floor—cleared of sofas and that ugly coffee table Prompto insisted you get, for aesthetic purposes—forming some sort of canopy that shielded the fluorescent light away from the cascade of pillows littering soft comforters spread all over. In between a mountain of the plush, feathery objects were snacks, chocolate bars, bottles of cold drinks, cans of sodas—every type of junk food you could ever think of, it was there. And that wasn’t all of it—

Just as you took note of something red scattered all over the comforters, pillows and snacks, arms circled you from behind, hot breath on your ear as a voice whispered. “Hey beautiful,” it said. “Like what you see?”

“No,” you giggled, hands tugging on the arms around you to make yourself snug in them, and the voice behind giggled along. “I love it.”

“Good,” it said, and then a body with a blond head circled to your front and—oh. Oh.

Fighting back a blush and a grin, you put your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to yourself as your brows furrowed, taking him in from head to toe. “Wow,” you breathed, feeling somewhat coy and a little giddy inside. “You’re more handsome than I thought you are. What’s the occasion, somebody died?”

“Em, seriously?” he laughed, rounding your figure with both arms as he tugged you closer still. “This is one of my best hoodies, okay! And what do you mean by, more handsome than you thought I am? I thought I’m always handsome in your eyes?”

He was always, you thought, but you seriously never thought he could look better still. Despite his occupation with the Crown insisting that he wear the color, a black hoodie fitted his physique like a glove, showing off the pronounced pectorals of his toned body despite being clad in thick cotton. The pesky bandana usually tied round his right bicep was gone, and you noticed that he had forgone wearing the usual bracelets that covered the unusual barcode tattoo on his wrist.

He was also gloveless, which meant he was embracing you fully in contact with your body without the barrier of leather and metal studs.

You were liking this more than you thought you could.

“I do think you are,” you said, voice lower so as to sound as romantic as you could. “You always, always are. Don’t need to dress up for me to know that you’re hot.”

He giggled, and his flushing cheeks reminded you of how much you were—are—still in love with him.

Fuck, do you love him.

“Yeah,” he said, a little bit breathless as he rested his forehead on yours, and he closed his eyes just as you closed yours, savoring the moment. “I know. Welcome home, babe, and happy birthday.”

All of a sudden, everything made sense. The blanket fort, the pillows, the snacks and drinks scattered all over the duvet spread on the floor and—you eyed over his shoulder—the scattering of rose petals that formed the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY as well as your favorite song playing from the home stereo, and all your favorite scents: lavender and milk and honey—

You dug your nails into his scalp and nearly sent him crashing into you as you crashed your lips on his.

And the appreciative moan coming from you was enough confirmation for him.

[komkari852]

Happy Birthday Wishes For Dad – Heart-warming, Funny & Prayers

There are many ways to say, Happy birthday dad, so it might be hard to find a perfect for wishing happy birthday. Father is a sign of guidance, care, love, and wisdom, so no doubt that father is important in our life. We all know that they are not as much praised as mothers, but we know the importance of a father in every aspect of life.

Dads also love birthdays! Accept it or not, there’s a vacuum in a child’s life only a dad can fill. It isn’t just about being a man; the role of a dad goes beyond fathering a son or daughter. Getting fully involved in the upbringing of one’s child makes the difference between a dad and a man on pants.

For the uncommon dads who have made our childhood and adult experiences worth the while, nothing is too big to give them, especially on their birthdays. To make it all the sweeter, start the celebration for him with a note that deeply expresses your reverence, respect, and love for him. These sample birthday messages for your dad will serve as a guide:

Heart-warming Happy Birthday Wishes For Dad

1: It is great to feel a dad’s love once in a lifetime. If we do get it twice, it is counted as the jackpot of miracles. Thanks, dad, for giving me reasons to call you dad, and not a step-father. Happy birthday.

2: No matter how far and wide I travel, my heart never stops beating for the first man that showed me unconditional love. Happy birthday, daddy.

3: Today, I want you to know that you are a rare and priceless gem. Happy birthday, dad.

4: I don’t know how you were able to put up with my excesses, dad. I can’t say how you kept loving me when I couldn’t show you a bit of appreciation. I respect you a lot, daddy. I really do. Happy birthday.

5: For all the days you sweated to give me sweet, for all the times you underwent pain to make me gain, I want to say a sincere “Thank you, dad.” I don’t know what would have been of me without you. Happy birthday.

6: May this day bring you incredible love which you brought into my life. Merriest birthday, dad.

7: Of all fathers, you are the noblest. Happy birthday, sweet dad.

8: There were days I despised your strict stance on discipline. Now, daddy, I have no regrets knowing you. Happy birthday, and may you live long for me.

9: You never cared about your comfort more than you cared about mine. All you were out to achieve was to help make me a star. Happy birthday, dad. I love you with all my heart.

10: You make my world light up in different, colourful ways. You are my father, and forever you’ll be. Happy birthday, dad.

11: People often wonder why I revere you even though you are my dad. They don’t really know the meaning you brought into my life. I adore you. Enjoy a fruitful birthday.

12: You taught me to always let love lead. Indeed, you are my “Triple L” dad. Happy birthday!

13: Thousands of words only scratch the surface of my thoughts about you, father. The description of your persona is best summarised as perfect. Happy birthday to my one and only dad.

14: Do you know that I can’t have any other dad in place of you? It is simply impossible. Happy birthday.

15: Happy birthday to my father, who is his wife’s lover, and the best friend of his children. Live long, and prosper in health.

16: Whenever I go down memory lane, there’s a man I usually meet who contributed in making me the real father that I am today. Happy birthday, dad. I will love you all my life.

17: My childhood was filled with fantastic fun because there was never a dull moment with you, dad. Even presently, I smile at some of the memories. Happy birthday.

18: Happy birthday, dad. Thanks for making me love God by your own loving.

Happy Birthday Prayer Wishes For Your Dad

1: I will be a fulfilled woman to see you live into your 90s in health and with your face creased with contentment. I pray you do have them all. Happy birthday, dearest daddy.

2: May safety, security, and success be yours, ten times and more as you step into a new year of your life. Happy birthday, my living legend.

3: All that you’ve ever hoped for, all that you keep praying about, all that will make you a fulfilled man, let them all be your birthday gift as you majestically enjoy your new age. Cheery birthday, daddy love.

4: As you gave all up to take me up, may people never rest until they make you comfortable. Happy birthday, dad.

5: I have directed loads of blessings, barrels of goodness, sheaves of favour and pots of sweetness to you on the occasion of your birthday today. You deserve all and more. Happy birthday, dad.

6: Happy birthday to my father who merits the title of “best friend”. You are blessed on every side. Rise and never fall into disgrace.

7: Will you mind if I command heaven to release all the wonderful benefits that befit a man like you? I know you wouldn’t mind. Happy birthday, my precious daddy.

8: Happy birthday, lovely dad. May none of your struggles for me never amount to anything. May you live to eat the fruit of your labour.

9: On this beautiful day, I pray that only beautiful things will find you. Happy birthday, father.

10: For not keeping me stranded as a child, for raising me with mum, to be the best of my kind, may the good Lord make your life tastier than ever, through me. Happy birthday, dad.

11: No moment passes me by without your thoughts flashing across my mind. Then, I make a silent prayer, requesting heaven to bless my dad in every way possible. I know this year will be better for you, dad. Have an incredible birthday.

12: If God should bless you the way I desire him to, you will have no room left to accommodate more. I pray that you’ll be richly happy, now and always. I heart you, dad. Happy birthday.

13: One of the best ways to appreciate a fine gentleman like you is by praying for their continuous existence on earth. Live into your ripe, old age full of health. Happy birthday, dad.

14: Whenever you are happy, I am happy. I pray that you always dwell in happiness. Happy birthday, papa.

Funny Happy Birthday Wishes For Your Dad

1: You often tell even strangers, that I’m your son who you are very proud of. You like showing off, dad! Take it easy, please. Happy birthday, by the way.

2: The only difference between your last birthday and the present one is that you want a bigger birthday cake this time around. Enjoy while it lasts. Happy birthday, super dad.

3: That you are getting older isn’t a perfect reason for not visiting us, too. We aren’t taking that excuse. We want to hear your own knock on our door. Hope you’ll change for the best, dad. Happy birthday.

4: Every new year, you grow a new patch of grey hairs. Is that the best you can offer, dad? Happy birthday, all the same.

5: Happy birthday to our special dad. Just grow old so that we can get some respite from mean people. We are already tired of hearing, “Your dad is more handsome than you all!”

6: Dearest papi, this birthday wish contains many warm hugs for you that will last till your next birthday. No gifts this year. Thank you.

7: I love the way you smile, dad. This is me, wishing you a happy birthday. My gift for you is a buzz of tickling to make you smile crazily a hundred times, everyday. I’m sure you’ll like it.

8: Personally, I would have exchanged you for the richest man in our city. But your soft heart couldn’t let my plan work out. You are something else, dad. Happy birthday.

9: Daddy, happy birthday. You taught me how to prank on people, and now you want me to come over to learn more from you. Thanks for loving me in weird ways, Mister.

10: Happy birthday, my lovely dad. Too many of your advice ruined my life. Thanks to you, I am referred to as the “Man of Integrity.” I can’t even have a thief for a friend!

11: I am very sure you are waiting for my message before you celebrate your birthday. Stop making me jump hurdles for you. I don’t know why I love you so much. Happy birthday, dad.

12: Do you know why I love you? I don’t know either. Happy birthday, daddy.

13: This day, I want to thank God for giving me a fat father. Nobody would question if you had any birthday feast. Happy birthday without a cake, sweet dad.

14: Happy birthday, dad. For this year, I learnt that you’ve already sent invites for a bigger celebration. Well, tell the folks to come along with their own party chairs and food.

15: I wish you long life and a sprinting spirit even if your legs won’t want to run anymore. Happy birthday, papa.

Source:- https://lifemotivation.net

also Like:- https://justpaste.it/Happy-birthday-dad

https://lifemotivation-net.weebly.com/home/happy-birthday-wishes-for-dad-heart-warming-funny-prayers

http://lifemotivation-net.mystrikingly.com/blog/happy-birthday-wishes-for-dad-heart-warming-funny-prayers

[selfbuiltadventure]

Our Self-Built Campervan Conversion Blog

What our Self-Built Adventure blog is about...

Thank you for joining us on our self-built adventure – we are excited to have you with us! We hope to bring you plenty of hints, tips, stories and advice on everything self-build campervan conversion related. We’ll take you through how we are converting Gary (our Ford Transit van conversion, also known as ‘Big Gaz’), with everything from where to start when buying your van to convert to insulating your van, wiring leisure batteries and fitting skylights. We'll help you with deciphering the DVLA requirements to register your van conversion, go through how to build a pull out bed and, crucially, help with whether or not to have a toilet in your van, one of the biggest campervan conversion deliberations! Lastly, our build is currently still in progress so you will be joining us live as we finish our conversion! Once our van is complete we will be taking you with us on our travels reviewing the best campervan parks, camp sites, brit stops and, where it is permitted, for a spot of wild or stealth camping. We hope to bring you wonderful landscapes and top tips of beautiful travel destinations, the best free adventures, packing tips, camping equipment, and the country’s hidden gems to name but a few.  But more on all that later. 

Who are we and why are we doing this?

We may be new to the campervan community but battling the elements in the great outdoors is not unfamiliar territory for us. In fact, until quite recently we were very proud to exclusively ‘tent it’. We’ve happily camped under fabric for many years at festivals, holidays and camping trips with friends. We even (God knows why) took a two-man tent to Glastonbury where it rained in what can only be described as ‘Biblical proportions’. Dani is also 6 foot 1. A challenge, almost, too far. Thankfully, our relationship survived and we continue to enjoy camping holidays and festivals alike.

So why, you wonder, have we decided to switch allegiances to a campervan, and in particular given ourselves the hassle of building our own campervan conversion? 

It is worth mentioning here that neither of us have any previous experience of building anything. Well, that's not strictly true. Dani has worked with lego a few times, but you know what I mean. We’re both pretty creative people and are good at drawing and design which I think has helped a little with visualising the interior of the van, but if you had said ‘12v split charge relay’ to us a few months ago we would have greeted you with a stunned vacant grin. Dani is now a pro on this subject (or so he tells me) and I know just about enough to hold my own in a campervan related conversation, so I’m happy with that. What on earth are we doing this for then? It was summer 2019. We had packed up our tent which we had recently upgraded to a 4 man (with east wing and west wing you’ll be pleased to hear) in Pete Polo (yes, our car has a name too) and driven to the annual summer camping trip with our friends in Alfriston. On our return each year we had been noticing that at least one more of the group had upgraded from a tent to a campervan. We’d always admire the vans and keenly take the familiar tour to be shown the little 12v fridge, how the lights work and enjoy the obligatory demonstration of how the rock and roll bed pulls out and folds away again.

Dani and I often discussed how we’d like a van of our own: ‘I’d like one of the old ones… the VW’s… with the noses’, I’d say ‘Yeah, but they’re astronomically priced… and the parts cost a fortune’ Dani would reply ‘Running costs will be huge too…’ I’d add. Both of us: ‘…Yeah…’ So, we put the idea out of our minds. Anyway, we were proud of our palatial tent with its east and west wing. This trip was different however. One set of the friends had brought their panel van. A panel van which they were part way through converting into a campervan. It was bespoke, cosy, with lots of character and because they were building it, it was totally unique to them. Vitally, as we discovered on further discussion, it hadn’t cost the earth. And that was it. We, well, Dani was inspired. And it didn’t take long for me to be convinced. We had been renting a one bed flat in London for three years and despite loving the fast paced city life with all the choice and convenience it brings, we were craving outdoor space. We wanted some respite and weekends away in the countryside. Ultimately we wanted an opportunity to travel at our leisure. The self-built campervan conversion ticked all the boxes. A great project, an easy way to travel and all future holidays in the bag. The self-built adventure had begun.

What are our plans and why are we blogging about it?

As I mentioned before, we are currently mid-build which is one of the reasons we wanted to start the blog now. We are both total novices so we wanted to share our progress to show that this is possible for anyone to undertake their own campervan conversion. It's not easy and there has definitely been more than one fraught moment! But it has also been a great adventure so far, and we would like to share our top tips, show some of the problem solving and also the flexibility you have to have when building a campervan, which is only really possible when you are still mid way through the build. Once the build is completed our plan is to tour the whole of England, Scotland and Wales. We are often asked, or it is often assumed, that we’ll be driving straight off abroad for our first taste of van life - not the case with us! It is the first opportunity for a career break we have both had due to us recently deciding to up-sticks from London and move closer to family in Sheffield, and we have roughly 3 months accounted for. We obviously love the idea of taking the slow road around Provence (dreamy!) but the beauty of having a permanent holiday home on wheels is that your options for holidaying are endless, and that we would appreciate that kind of trip far more as a two week break from work to properly switch off and relax.  But when else would you take the time to explore everything that you have on your doorstep? This is when we came to our conclusion. The UK, we both believe, is one of the most beautiful countries in the world. It is steeped in history, has national parks that rival any other and each region is totally different and diverse with some of the most enviable arts and culture you will find. And I haven’t even mentioned the wonderful cuisine and locally sourced food to be had.  So It was a bit of a no brainer for us. We plan to chart our travels and will share our route with you along the way pointing out some of the cultural highlights, beauty spots, best places to camp and most delicious places to eat.

Thinking of doing your own self-build van conversion and want to ask us a question? Or do you have any advice for us? We want to hear from you!

Want to ask us anything? Drop us a line! We are happy to chat. We are also eager to learn more, not only about the world of campervans, motorhomes and self-build conversions, but where to visit on our trip so would love to recieve any of your pearls of wisdom. The community has been so friendly and helpful to us, we can only offer the same back. We are on all social media channels so you can contact us there, or you can also send us a comment via this blog. We look forward to you joining us! See you on the road... Jo, Dani & ‘Big Gaz’

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