#the colours are a bit off bc i did this on my tablet and. hes a bit too orange.

[autism-corner]

LEVI STARTS ASMR CHANNEL??? NOT FAKE!!

(blank/betterQuality and reference under cut =w=bb)

[riverstardis]

strangers:

ahh it’s ethan’s birthday!! wait that means it’s almost exactly 7 years since this aired wow

cal’s painting the living room pink sjsjdj

“i found some of mum’s old tapes. we used to sing this driving back from swimming. well, me and mum did. you used to pretend you were doing puzzles and reading”

“half of my flat is pink” “little girls love pink” this isn’t about cal specifically but i swear so many people seem to be against assigning colours to genders and just gender roles in general until they have a baby😭

ethan seems a little stressed. probably cause cal’s loudly playing music and singing, painting his flat pink, and pretending to have forgotten his birthday

he asks if there was any post and cal says there wasn’t :(

“at least open a window! haven’t you heard of VOCs?!” sjdkfkf😭😭

ah zoe telling everyone that alicia left and she asks lily if she’d said anything to her and she says no she seemed content but louise is like “you know exactly what happened!”

aww ethan reminds them that her dad’s just died

max is doing ethan’s birthday whip round and lily’s like “i’ll do it!” and max is like okay just make sure you get a good cake and she asks where to get cake😭😭

ahh jess has fallen down a hole in the woods and now dixie’s finding out she has a partner and a daughter

cal got a football card for ethan skskdkf but he’s written “happy birthday uncle nibbles, love caleb and the toad” and put some paint on matilda’s hand to get a hand print🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I MISS THEM

he then adds it to the pile of other mail which he’d hidden before

dixie’s so good with olivia🥺🥺

matilda has a temperature so cal takes her in :(

now she has a rash that’s not blanching :/

she’s fitting and cal’s reeallly not helping not letting them do their jobs ;(

lily ordered 4 identical cakes because you had to spend £20 to get free delivery sjskfkf

nikki does NOT like dixie

cal runs out of resus and ethan goes after him and says he needs to be there to support her

ethan: “i know what you’re doing” cal: (sarcastic) “oh you know how i hate to disappoint” ethan: “don’t you walk away…” he trails off because cal’s already gone😭

cal :(

aww ethan sees lily look at her tablet looking about to cry and asks if she’s okay and she tells him that her mother found an email in her father’s drafts saying that he was proud of her🥺

louise comes over and starts having a go at her again about alicia and lily protests saying “i’m a good doctor!” and ethan’s like “yes you are, your father was right but, the way you treated alicia—“ and lily interrupts and starts yelling at them all saying she was right to push alicia and all that. ethan interjects saying that alicia was a good doctor as well but she just carries on.

when she’s done and no one says anything she says “surely not you too, ethan? why are you all so determined to place blame at my feet!” oop there he goes again, all calm until suddenly he’s not “you bullied alicia lily! do you really not see that? i’m sorry but i cannot- i will not defend you on that!” he is having a bit of a day

i wonder if having someone she knows doesn’t dislike her anyway call her out on it will wake lily up

charlie’s giving cal one of his pep talks

cal saying he can barely look after himself skskfkf i mean is he wrong

“every time i mess up there’s someone there picking up the pieces” by someone you mean ethan hmm? it’s funny bc as he says that his voice goes to voiceover and it shows ethan with matilda like yes cal there is someone there picking up the pieces, literally as you speak! “only this time it’s not just a hangover and a few apologies to face. there’s someone so fragile relying on me. she knows nothing of who i am, that i run and i hide because that’s what’s in me charlie. oh, i’m gonna turn into my own dad, how about that?” hmm dad mention interesting interesting🤔

aww he has a paint hand print on his t-shirt🥺

aww zoe sees ethan looking rough and says she knows it’s hard and no parent should have to see what cal just saw and ethan says it’s not about cal at least not like that “she needs a dad. and i just dont think he’s up to it” :(((

they’re just about to the lumbar puncture on matilda when cal finally returns. ethan says “it’s okay, i can take care of her, you just go wherever you need to go” and cal says no this is where he needs to be “no one is taking care of my daughter but me. i’ve got this”

aww cal promising matilda if she gets through this he’ll get her a whole room to her myself. then he goes “and all your friends can come over and have sleepovers. or virtual reality sleepovers… whatever little girls do in the future” BRO JUST PREDICTED LOCKDOWN😭😭😭 and he won’t even be around to see it😢😢

lofty tells ethan that rita wants to see him in admin and he goes and they all wish him happy birthday and they have one of the cakes🥺 and lily watches on from the staff room :(

“she’s going to be okay” “yeah she’s got good genes” does she?

lmaoo lofty and jacob went to get some stuff for cal from the flat and jacob’s like “i like what you’ve done with the flat, that pink is a bold choice” and cal’s like “oh yeah…” sjskfkfk and then lofty says he couldn’t find any clean boxers💀💀💀 typical

and they’ve also brought the post and cal hands the pile to ethan and says “as if i’d forgotten. happy birthday” i don’t think ethan feels much like celebrating given everything with matilda :(

cal holds up one of the envelopes and goes “auntie lou?” i swear it sounds like he says loulou/lulu there not just lou but i looked up the subtitles for the ep and apparently it is just lou. they both go “scratch card!” at the same time

ethan wins £2 on the scratch card

the paternity test result was in the pile of post and cal is not the biological father :((((

and there’s cal’s dob as 1986 before they decided to change it then change it back again. i’m curious to know how old they were thinking ethan was turning here as they made cal only 29? they later showed ethan’s birth year as 1986 too but they obviously weren’t considering that here because that put them at only just 9 months apart😬

cal :(((

[spiderparkerpeterman]

headache

i typed this out after downing a coffee, forgetting i'm very sensitive to caffeine, forgot to save but then my laptop restarted for an update? so now i'm here four hours later bc i gave up on life, not so hopped up on caffeine but with a major headache and also it's 1am. enjoy!

content: stark!reader, fluff n cuddles, peter being a good boyfriend (tm)

warnings: lapslock, i've had to write this twice so i'm angry, post-endgame and yes this follows canon i'm sorry, feels, all the feels, angst and consequences of death, Tension

word count: probably less than my original draft (1528 words)

--

the jet ride back to the newly rebuilt avengers compound was quiet. the mission the reformed avengers had just been on was successful, an infiltration of a loose hydra camp, but there was a big hole in the team that had become apparent as soon as the mission had begun that left everyone in a tense silence.

missions were going to be very, very difficult now.  teamwork-wise and mentally. emotionally. it had been, what, a year or so since your dad had... well, anyway. it seemed like such a long time ago- it was a long time ago- but you had been itching to go back out and do avenger-y things for months. leave it up to the starks to distract themselves from grief and pain by working their asses off. you had been tinkering, toying with your dad's old ideas, doing some minor patrolling stuff for a year, and god was it not enough to keep you distracted.

but then you had actually taken on the mission and then everyone noticed that there were a few missing links that almost cost the team the victory. your dad had been a rock, a point of leadership, an active brain on the team. capsicle had been someone steady, brave, always willing to take on the hard jobs. and nat- nat- she'd take out a room full of men three times her size with ease and still have breath to keep going until every last man was down. sparklefingers was off in space with a rodent, a robot, and a lovesick asshole; that marvel lady had disappeared as soon as she could; the wizard was back at his boys' club; robin hood had officially retired, even leaving his bow behind for the rustic life; and orange slices had said something about "making up for lost time" with his daughter, leaving only you, captain birdman, edgy amnesiac, smart hulk and a handful of ironsuits you'd created over your little break, to regroup and do the mission.

and peter, of course. you could never forget about peter. especially not when he was sitting next to you, your hand in his, jaw clenched, staring at his lap.

the poor kid. you knew your dad was also kind of his dad, the only father figure he'd had since ben. the kid kept losing father figures- probably some kind of curse, you had reasoned with yourself, because this was getting out of hand. you had been by his side when he decided to return to spider-man-ing, a month or two after your dad had... yup. done that thing. he had been by your side when you went into your dad's lab in his lakehouse for the first time since the incident, some four months later. you had his back after the whole mysterio-then-court scenario. he had your back when you had your first major panic attack because you realised that you just couldn't cope. you had each other's backs, you had for three, well, technically eight years now. since just after peter had been taken on by your dad to beat some sense into the others in germany.

coming back from the blip was weird. the entire situation was weird. you had been blipped, dusted, gone, worried and confused about your father being on a giant donut in space with peter, and then you had come back five years later lying on your dusty, unused-for-five-years bed, then the compound was blown to smithereens, you were saved by your suit that you still had on after helping keep the wizard safe, discovered your dad had moved out to the country and had also had another kid- who you loved to bits, of course you did- and also your dad had invented time travel.

and then he was gone, forever.

so yeah. massive hole in the team, everyone was quiet, peter looked like he was going to throw up, you were trying not to cry.

you realised peter was looking at you, and you had been staring at him for a little too long. he squeezed your hand, his eyebrows raised slightly. he looked like a kicked puppy, and oh god, your heart hurt.

"sorry," you mumbled, looking away. sam raised his head but averted his eyes when you accidentally made eye contact. you felt a headache coming on- all this stress about the mission and hole-in-the-team stuff was not good for your physical, emotional or mental health. you rested your head on peter's shoulder, feeling his head rest on yours in return. you closed your eyes, tuning out the sound of the quinjet, just focusing on your breath and peter's soft circles that he was rubbing into your hand.

at some point, you drifted off because you awoke to peter gently nudging your shoulder, the quinjet landing. you blinked blearily at him.

"you okay?" he asked, cupping your cheek. you closed your eyes again and leant into his hand.

"headache," you mumbled, turning your face into his hand and kissing it a light kiss. "i'll be okay."

as soon as you stood up to get out of the quinjet though, a wave of nausea washed over you, forcing you to sit back down.

"or not."

peter rushed to pull you up gently, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he held both of your bags in his other hand. he helped you out of the quinjet, into the compound and up to your room.

exhausted and sore, your head pounding like nothing else, you collapsed on your bed, absentmindedly taking off your wrist cuffs with your nanosuit in them, kicking off your shoes. peter puttered around, putting his bag down then your bag down then taking off his webshooters, shoes and jacket, pacing the room looking at you worriedly.

"do you need anything? like- like aspirin or water or juice or music? i head whale noises can help with a headache and-"

"peter," you mumbled.

"- but i haven't had a headache since i got my powers so i kind of don't know what to do and-"

"peter," you said, a little louder.

"-  i think i should get you some aspirin, yeah, and i'll close the curtains, and-"

"peter!" you called, regretting it as your head pounded particularly hard. peter stopped pacing, and looked at you. "stop pacing, you're giving me motion sickness. and please- just keep it down, i just need quiet okay? you can go get what you want, some aspirin would be nice, and a gatorade too. but please calm down. it's just a headache, i'm tense and stressed. it'll go away soon."

peter nodded and rushed out of the room. you lay on your back with a small groan, staring up at the plain white ceiling of your room. before the compound had been destroyed, you'd put glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling of your bedroom with your dad, and you could look up and stare at the fake constellation stories you had made, giggling with your dad. now the ceiling was empty, strange, unfamiliar. everything was- you had lost almost everything that night. your eyes burned with tears, which you wiped away, keeping your hand over your eyes, fighting the need to throw up.

a few minutes later, you heard your door swing open as peter reentered. you took your hand away from your face and looked at him, balancing two boxes of aspirin and four bottles of gatorade in different colours. he smiled at you gently as he put the stuff on your bedside table.

"let's get you sitting up, yeah?" he whispered, the look in his eyes oh so tender. he sat behind you, resting your back and head on his side so you didn't have to move too much and took out two small aspirin tablets. "i didn't know which colour gatorade you wanted so i got you all of them."

"i'll have the red one, thanks," you replied, taking the tablets and then the gatorade that peter opened, swallowing the pills with a large mouthful of the drink.

you sighed and moved so that you were lying in his lap and looked up at him. you giggled.

"what?" he asked, and you raised a hand to poke at his jaw.

"how do you not even have a double chin from this angle?" you pouted, "it's not fair."

"spiders," he replied, "they tend to do that to you."

you giggled again and sighed again, closing your eyes.

"i should go," peter whispered, raising your head so he could slip away from under you. "you want quiet, yeah?"

"i never said i didn't want you in here," you muttered. "i'm in pain, comfort me."

peter grinned and obliged, maneuvering you so you were lying under your blankets then slipping in next to you. he lay your head on his chest and wrapped an arm behind your neck so you were secure. you rolled onto your side, an ear to his heart. his heartbeat was so steady, as usual.

"i love you, and want you to know that you did great today," peter mumbled, stroking your hair.

"love you too. you also did really well. thanks for having my back."

"any time."

[mar-bluu]

How do you reckon Elmer and Buttons would react if Lucy got pregnant? Can just imagine how excited Elmer'd be, calling everyone like "im gonna be a grandad!"

Akdksoske ohmygosh okay!!! (This is gonna be my long, and incomprehensible ramblings, sorry!!)

So! One day Elmer's sitting in the kitchen eating his breakfast when Lucy walks in and just throws up right in front of him. Elmer's like "oh okay that's nice, you do that, yeah right in front of my toast, okay" and Lucy just walks out and leaves him to clean it up. So Elmer finishes up his toast and cleans up Lucy's mess when Buttons walks in. Elmer's like "Lucy threw up just before but i cleaned it up, so be careful, the floor might be wet." And Buttons goes "huh, she threw up yesterday as well." So they're a little concerned but chalk it up to her probably eating grass. The next day, however, when she throws up again, they're like "okay something might be wrong, let's take her to the vet" so they bundle her up in the car and drive down to the vets, Elmer's quietly freaking out because all he can think of is the absolute worst, and Buttons is trying to keep him calm, saying that its probably nothing as he tries to stay calm as well.

They pull up and head inside. As theyre sitting in the waiting room, Lucy throws up again, so the lady at the desk is like "okay, we should probably look at that like, now." So Lucy's brought into a side room and Buttons explains that she's been off her food and vomiting for the last few days. So the vet's like "is she spayed?" And Elmer and Buttons look at each other like "is she??" So they say that they're unsure and the vet's like "okay, well we're gonna do an ultrasound real quick" Lucy's whisked off to the back room for an ultrasound and now, Elmer's f r e a k i n g out. "Buttons, she could've eaten something really bad! What if she's been poisoned? Did we remember to give her her heartworm tablets? Did we check her for ticks!?" And Buttons is trying to stay calm and reassure Elmer, and theyre both too busy worrying about Lucy to notice the vet coming back. She opens the door to the two of them panicking, and just sets Lucy down on the examination table, waiting for Elmer and Buttons to notice. Lucy sits on the table with her tail wrapped around her paws and meows loudly. That gets their attention, and the turn to the table, holding each other's hands nervously. "Well," the vet starts "Lucy's gonna be just fine." Elmer and Buttons share a look of relief. "But," they begin to grow nervous again "you might wanna consider kiddie proofing the house, cause Lucy's gonna be a mama"

The two of them are completely silent, staring open mouthed between the vet and their cat, who stares proudly back. "What?" The vet just nods, giving Lucy a scratch behind her ears. "A mother of seven, actually. Or at least thats how many i can see." Buttons squeals excitedly as Elmer tackles him in a hug "we're gonna be grandparents!!" The vet laughs along before stepping them through the pregnancy process. She walks them to the counter and gives them a card to an all-hours house call vet who can help them if they're worried about or during birth. They thank the vet and bring Lucy home.

The second they got inside Elmer's on the phone to everyone telling them the good news as Buttons lectures Lucy about running off and getting pregnant. Everyone's so happy for them (especially Davey who's a big cat person, though he doesn't often show it and Mush who comes over as soon as possible with extra cat food and bedding) and Buttons and Elmer spend 110% of their attention on Lucy and making sure she's comfortable ("pregnant cats are called queens, Buttons, we should treat her like one!" "She has three beds stacked on top of each other and enough food to last her a life time, i dont think she needs another cat-box" "fine, but we need to get her a "world's best mum" cat bowl!")

Anyway! One morning at about 2:40 am Elmer wakes up to Buttons shaking his shoulder. "It's happening!" "What?" "It's happening!!" "Wha- oh, oh!" He springs out of bed as Buttons dials the emergency vet. Elmer sprints through the house, finding Lucy huddled in a corner, washing her fur. Elmer kept his distance, not wanting to annoy her, as he tried to keep his excitement quiet. Not too long after that the emergency vet arrived, following Buttons into the room. He said there wasnt a lot he can do, as Lucy seemed to be handling it very well, so they sat there and talked about Lucy, if this was her first litter, how well she'd been dealing with the pregnancy etc. They waited there for an hour and a bit, cooing over pictures of the vet's own kittens, before Lucy gave birth to the last of her kittens. The vet monitored Lucy for another half hour or so before heading off, ("make sure to take them to the vets within a week or two for a wellness check") and Elmer and Buttons move in closer for a look at the newest additions to their family. They count the kittens, finding another 2 the vet missed, and excitedly snap pictures and send them to their friends. As they continue to melt over the kittens, they notice that while a lot of them have the same black and white colourings of their mother, a few of them were a pretty orange, that looked suspiciously like the ginger cat who lived down the street. Buttons made a mental note to have a stern talking to with him the next time they saw him.

Already Elmer's thinking of names for the kitties, sending options to the groupchat (only Race is awake and his suggestions include Professor Cheeseball and Sir Meatball Daggertooth, which he reads out to Lucy who doesn't look too pleased with them) Buttons had already picked a name for one, Tigger, which they settled on giving to the biggest ginger fluffball. They settled on Gizmo for the kitty that looked like a little clone of his mum, then waited for the others to wake up and help (Race is officially banned from naming anything after suggesting Moldy Stink Rat) Elmer and Buttons sat on the couch and watched Lucy with her new babies, wrapped in each others arms, as they fall asleep listening to Lucy meow softly to her kittens.

After about three months, the kittens were all named (Tigger, Gizmo, Oreo, Luna, Willow, Sunny, Marmalade, Cedar, and after lots and lots and lots of pestering from his human counterpart, the last one was named Jack) and had their appropriate vet work done. Davey appointed himself as godfather and was over any time he could ("where are my babies? I want to see my babies!" *scoops up Gizmo* "And how's mama Lucy going?") Mush and Blink would come and visit them frequently too, always bringing little toys and things for the kittens to play with. Cedar had taken a real shine to Mush and Blink, and would always go running towards them whenever he heard their voices. (Elmer and Buttons had a feeling of who they wanted to give Cedar to when the time came) Jack couldn't come over as frequently as the others but would constantly text Elmer and Buttons for updates on Cat-Jack, and had a picture of his kitty twin in his wallet and would show it off proudly to anyone who asked.

Unfortunately come month 4, Buttons and Elmer had to make the tough decision of giving away their precious babies. Lucy was just as upset as the two of them, but they couldn't keep looking after all of them, they'd already lost a pair of shoes, two pillows and several cups and glasses. So they needed to make sure the kitties went to the best of homes. Naturally Davey offered to take two (Oreo and Marmalade), Katherine took Willow, Barney adopted Luna, and Albert got Sunny. Elmer and Buttons asked Blink and Mush if they wanted to take Cedar, but they were slightly hesitant as they didnt want him to be overwhelmed by all the other animals (though they seriously had to restrain themselves from accepting right away) So Elmer and Buttons held onto him (tho they had a feeling that in a month or so he'd be living on the farm) Jack obviously adopted mini him, and Gizmo and Tigger stayed with Buttons and Elmer

Every month or so, they would all organize a meet up together, usually at Buttons' and Elmer's house so Lucy could see her babies again, and have kitty hangouts. Lucy, Elmer and Buttons miss the other kittens a lot, but they're happy knowing that they're with good families and good homes :)

Also Lucy definitely got spayed after bc they couldn't deal w the heartbreak of giving away kittens again, and also to help keep kitties off the streets, and the cat from down the road got a very stern talking to

[hanalwayssolo]

In The Line of Duty

A/N: Timely for Iggy’s name day! So. Slightly departing from the usual structure in which I write my stories, so this may seem a bit... weird? Fragmented? So I kind of not recommend reading this via Tumblr mobile bc that app murders the formatting lmao

Tagging them pals! @blindedstarlight @valkyrieofardyn @bleucommelhiver @gowithme @noboomoon @emmydots @lazarustrashpit @raspberryandechinacea @hanatsuki89 @mp938368 @boo-dangy @animakupo

(Links in AO3) Alternate Universes in Which You and I Belong Together: Noctis | Gladio | Prompto | Ignis | Nyx | Cor | Ravus | Ardyn

Ignis breezes through the freeway, his Aston Martin almost flying through the rainy night. He is never one to drive like a madman, but this is a desperate time that certainly calls for this very desperate measure. He spares a glance at the rearview mirror. A shabby white Mitsubishi and a gaudy yellow Volvo still remain in close pursuit. Looks like the flock of paparazzi back from Maagho’s really is a persistent lot. In the passenger seat, you sit in an unsettling silence.

Fuck these bastards, he mutters under his breath.

Speed limits be damned. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel. Ignis revs the engine and zips past the steady traffic.

“Let’s get you back to your flat, alright?” he offers kindly.

You say nothing.

Suddenly, Ignis finds himself missing your chatty, teasing antics. That silly smile of yours. By this time, you should have been pleading him to let you go someplace else—anywhere but your place—while annoying him to death with your usual smartass quips. You never do.

Months before, Ignis had been perfectly convinced you were the most insufferable human he has ever come across. Funny how he now thinks otherwise. Even funnier that he now cares. Because it’s not his business to care. His job was never to look nor to listen.

But at this point, you have made him break every single rule in his book.

The first thing Ignis notices when he meets you is your eyes.

Something about your strong and striking gaze makes him wonder why someone like him is even employed at your service. One look from you, he is pretty certain you are completely capable on your own in terms of sending anyone who dares cross your path—may it be troublesome paparazzi, or overzealous fans and haters alike—to run with their tails between their legs. Your composure and confidence says just as much. Seems to him that you’re the type of person who does not need anyone’s protection, let alone a bodyguard.

Which is a sentiment you made very clear that morning in the luxurious luster of Hotel St. Regis’s lobby.

“I’m afraid Aranea here has wasted your time—” you tell Ignis as you set your cup of coffee back on the table, sharply turning your attention to the silver-haired woman who is sitting across from you— “but like I said, I can take care of myself just fine—”

“Really?” Aranea scoffs, casting you a challenging glare. “And by taking care of yourself, do you mean going around punching paparazzi square in the face and breaking their camera as you please?”

You shrug. “Well, that fella fucking deserved it—”

“Whether they deserved it or not isn’t the fucking point, you idiot. Do you have any idea how Cor had to shell out his own money to keep that incident from going out to the press?” Aranea sighs in resignation. “Look, this is more than just taking care of yourself. This is about—”

“—my career, my image, and my reputation, blah blah blah. Yes, you don’t need to do all of Cor’s spiel—I get it.”

Aranea raises an eyebrow. “Do you really? ‘Cause if you really did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation and Ignis wouldn’t be the fourth replacement in the span of six fucking months.”

You fall silent. Though Ignis is compelled to say something, he knows very well not to provide his thoughts, unsolicited or otherwise. That’s never in his job description. He had been trained to keep his mouth shut, and he is going to do just that. Besides, what would he know? Such is the world of glitz and glamour that is show business, and Ignis has never been tasked with handling celebrity clientele before. If anything, among his peers, it was either Gladio or Nyx who gets paired with the high profile A-listers. Clarus’s directive for him came as a strange surprise, the initial briefing of his task even stranger. All throughout his fifteen years of service in the Lucian Security Bureau, people frequently assigned to Ignis were government big shots, business moguls, and upper echelons of society who have been targets of terror and violence.

However, in your case… Ignis could see that you fit in neither the former nor the latter. At least for now, that’s what he thinks.

You spread your elbows over the table, eyeing Aranea with a wicked smile all over your face. “You know what would be better, Ari?”

“Don’t call me that—”

“You could pass as both my handler and bodyguard, don’t you think?

Aranea looks at Ignis, then back at you. “Does that come with a raise?”

You lean back against your seat. “Nope.”

“Didn’t think so.” Aranea exhales a derisive laugh. “Then I suppose we leave Ignis to do that job for all our sakes. Anyway, we better get going—” from her satchel, she pulls out a sleek-looking tablet— “you have to be ready for your four p.m. table read and a seven p.m. interview Dino of Meteor Publishing.” To Ignis, she says, “I assume you’ve already been briefed by your superior about all your responsibilities?”

Ignis sits up straighter and nods. “Yes.”

“Good. It’s pretty simple actually, but the past bodyguards can’t seem to do it.” Aranea smiles, clapping Ignis by the shoulder as she narrows her eyes on you. “Just don’t let this moron out of your sight, and we’ll all be fine.”

The first thing you notice about Ignis is his eyes.

Never mind the scar that cruised the left side of his face, that tiny slash over his right eyebrow, or even the one on the bridge of his nose. He didn’t even need to look at you directly for you to marvel at how fiercely green his eyes are, like the colour of a bright summer’s day. However, back in the lobby with Aranea, there is no warmth in his silences nor in his clinical concentration; there is only a crippling coldness. One look at him and you could already surmise that he’s had his fair share of danger in his profession. Though he is lean and lithe unlike your past bodyguards who all seem to be built out of heavier materials, you cannot shake the feeling that Ignis might have killed a man with his bare hands.

Still, you don’t really need someone like Ignis. You never needed someone like him. A bodyguard should have been the least of your concerns. Besides, you have enough people monitoring your every move that getting a fucking bodyguard is as insane as it’s going to get. Cor often reminds you that this is all for your safety, and that as your manager, he only wants to keep you safe. Aranea chastises you that you’re overreacting, and that you’re still free as a bird. Except you’re as free as any bird locked in a cage that they might as well just lock you up in prison.

And in the first few hours that Ignis has started following you around, the fact that he hardly spares you a moment for a decent conversation—except for his courteously clipped responses like “Let me know if you need anything else,” or “I’ll be right outside your door”—prison seems like a more amiable place to be.

By his second week, Ignis finally understands how unpredictable you can be.

Okay, maybe he does not understand it quite fully. He has to admit, though: he admires the elaborate effort you put into your juvenile pranks. It comes in the strangest of ways and in the oddest of days: from your attempts to lock him up inside your trailer, down to that crafty disguise to sneak out of the film set, all of which he had seen you fail miserably time and again. Out of all your many crimes, petty they may be, hopping in the backseat of someone else’s car to escape him from an after party still takes the cake. He had to forcefully “borrow” a stranger’s motorcycle just to chase you down, which he managed to do in less than an hour. Not an impressive feat for someone his calibre, but at least he got you home in one piece—and without Cor or Aranea even knowing.

What fuels your sheer determination to drive him off his wits, Ignis does not know. The only thing he knows for sure is that you’re one bloody piece of work.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn ya, Specs,” Gladio reminds Ignis one sordid afternoon back in the Lucian Security Bureau HQ. In the saintly cleanliness that is his cubicle, he finds Gladio lounging on his seat together with Nyx, as if they had been expecting his unlikely visit. The air-conditioned hustle remains the same, the glass panels and all the white walls still as stark bright as Ignis remembers it to be. He really has been away for far too long that he finds himself missing that familiar scent of ink and paper, and even the faces of these two troublemakers.

“So how’s your new post treatin’ you?” Nyx breezily asks. His tone is not of concern, but a knowing amusement that Ignis can easily recognize. “The look on your face says you’re either in need of a stiff drink or to get laid.”

“Or could be both,” Gladio adds.

Actively ignoring the smug looks on his friends’ faces, Ignis does not answer them, but instead, he asks: “Aren’t the both of you supposed to be somewhere else?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” Gladio snaps back. He picks up Ignis’s tin of mints on his table and pops one on his mouth.

Nyx loops an arm around Ignis. “Y’know, celebrities can be a pain, so if you’re here to request Clarus for a reassignment, we promise not to judge.”

Ignis looks at Nyx for a brief moment. A reassignment. How come he never thought of that? Sure, you can be annoying and a menace to his daily routine, but Ignis suddenly finds it strange that he has never considered the prospect of requesting for a change in client. Maybe he has his brand of patience to thank for, or his unworldly forbearance in the years that he has spent in this profession.

But then—as if by seeing Nyx and Gladio after such a long time of being away—he realizes that maybe, you’re not that bad. Even in your reckless and determined attempts of making his life a living hell, you also make an effort to make conversation. Not that it’s anything special. He has been wired to being strictly on someone’s beck and call that most of his past clients do not even bother to look at him in the eye. Most of them see him as a weapon, a blade to be wielded against their enemies. Small wonder Ignis himself often forgets that he is a living and breathing person. He can barely remember having a life outside this job. He can barely remember the last time someone apart from Gladio and Nyx asking him anything about his hobbies or other interests or even about his family.

But you do. You try. Even on the first few days when Ignis didn’t know how to respond. It’s just that he doesn’t know how to. He fears that you might have interpreted that as indifference, and he regrets to have responded to you as such. He thought you would have given up by now, seeing how he had acted so callously, but you have the persistence of a honey badger that you use on him to get him to talk, or to even to smile a little.

Nyx looks at Ignis, this time with a genuine hint of concern. Ignis has not realized that he had been quiet for some time.

But he has realized that you have grown so much on him, which is such an disturbing thought to entertain.

“I think a reassignment is highly unnecessary,” Ignis says finally—almost to himself and not to Nyx and Gladio—as he takes his leave. 

By his second week, you finally understand how Ignis can be so predictable.

There’s the matter of his morning routine. He follows it too religiously that you start to notice the little things. He wakes up as early as six a.m.—on the dot, not even a minute late—to work out at the back of your trailer. Three sets of push ups, squats, crunches, all in that order. Seven-thirty a.m., he wraps up, takes a shower, grabs a nice cup of coffee with some of the film crew. He likes his coffee strong and black, no sugar. How you know all of this like the same way you know all of your lines is beyond you.

But maybe he’s not too predictable. Not entirely.

You still have not seen him smile, despite the significant progress in the conversation department. And by significant, you mean that his answers have finally upgraded from one-word responses to lengthy sentences. Considering all the stupid shit you pulled on him, it’s almost a wonder that he even indulges you from time to time by answering any of your random questions.

Though in the process, you have learned a handful of tidbits about his life. For one, you find out that he happens to be an excellent cook. Once, he has shared with you how he wanted to build a restaurant of his own, and that it is only a matter of time before he could pursue that dream. Hearing him confide something that personal throws you off guard, but somehow, you feel quite relieved. You also learn that he has never seen any of your films, nor is he even aware of your awards and accolades—which, frankly, is the most gratifying thing you have ever heard in your life. You have also learned that he has not forgiven you for making him chase you all throughout the city. Which is fair. If that had happened with any of your previous bodyguards, they would not even bother sparing you another word even if you are the last person on this planet, and they would most certainly quit their job the next day.

But Ignis is different. A good kind of different.

Nevertheless, what you now find unfair is that you have never seen him smile. Unfair because he has seen yours a countless times at this point—fake ones on set included. He even gets a bonus because he has also seen you laugh at the most ridiculous things. Ignis, however, seems to be programmed with a limited range of emotions. You have not seen his face look anything but blank or bored, too surly or too serious.

It is only when you suddenly fall sick in the middle of filming that you find a new expression on his face.

Right after the director screams “Cut!” you wobble outside the set, past the cameramen, past the make up artists, past Aranea who’s probably busy handling your next schedule. When Ignis hurries by your side, you could barely focus your eyes. Your mouth tastes like acid. The world is spinning out of control.

Ignis presses the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re burning up. I’m calling a doctor—”

“No, don’t.” You weakly wave a hand. “I’ll be fine by morning. Don’t tell Aranea. I just need to sleep, that’s all.”

Ignis walks you back to your trailer, looping your arm around his neck, and his around your waist. Your cheek momentarily rests against his chest, and you can feel his warm breath fanning over your head. You try your best not to retch on his shirt. Perhaps it’s the fever talking, but all you could think about is how this shirt looks perfect on him and you do not want to ruin it with your vomit.

Which is why out of your delirious haze, you say out of the blue: “Have I ever told you that you look so good in black?”

Ignis tilts his head. He hesitates for a moment, and then says, “I’m afraid not.”

“Well, now you know. I like your black dress shirt. You look so dapper in it.” And there goes your filter straight out the window.

“Thank you. It’s… nothing special.” He sounds unsure. Or is that embarrassment? Either way, you’re too sick to even look at his face to see his reaction.

Ignis guides you straight to your bed. You toss yourself so gracelessly against the mattress, and you gather the sheets to bundle up for warmth. A wave of nausea threatens to lurch out of your mouth. As far as you’re concerned, the inside of your trailer should not be this freezing cold.

“I’ll get you something to eat,” Ignis says, and as he prepares to drift to the kitchen, you grab for his hand.

“Please stay for a minute. Tell me a story.” You sound like a five-year-old.

He sits on the edge of the bed. “What kind of story?” His voice is gentler than usual. It is jarring, to say the least.

You pull yourself up, your arm brushing against his. “Like, is it possible that you’re a gremlin? ‘Cause how come it’s so hard to—” you thumb the corners of his mouth to make him smile— “see you do this?”

You can feel his face tremble a little in your touch. He looks at you strangely. You know he’s about to say something, but you are ill-prepared to what happens next.

Ignis starts to laugh.

You can’t believe this is what you have been missing for the last couple of days. What you have been missing your entire life. You have only known him for two weeks, but now, it’s like looking at a completely different person. He’s all lit up, his laughter radiating like the sun, bright and warm and blinding. His eyes disappear behind his smile lines, and his mouth curves to exhibit his perfect teeth and that illegally gorgeous smile. Your heart is pounding and you are certain that this is not your fever doing the talking anymore.

“I can assure you, I’m not a gremlin,” he says, wiping his eye with his hand.

“Good to know,” you say, sinking back to your pillows. “But I swear—I will make you laugh like that again when I get better,” you say confidently. And as you drift to deep sleep, the sound of his laughter is the last thing you hear.

The third month arrives and Ignis sees you a little differently.

Different in a way that your smile is now a bullet to his heart. Your laughter, a drug. Your kiss, a secret he would forever keep. Not only have you grown on him, but you have made a home inside his body. His mind, your temple. You have seduced his empty heart, and now it is beating only for you.

But if there’s anything Ignis knows by now, it’s that good things always come to an end. They always do. And he knows better. He knows you aren’t for him, and he isn’t for you.

The third month sweeps you off your feet as Aranea enters your trailer with a new man in tow. At first, you think he is one of the new actors with the way he carries himself with an air of confidence, but you immediately recognize the logo on his jacket.

The first thing that leaves your mouth is: “Where’s Ignis?”

Aranea’s mouth twists. She hesitates, then says, “Ignis quit. Told me he found a new job. Nyx here would be his replacement.”

Your heart plummets. The expression on your face might have been so fucking obvious because Aranea casts you a worried glance, and so does this Nyx. He looks slightly uncomfortable with the way you skate your narrowed eyes at him, as if he has no right to be in your breathing space. As if he has no right at all to ever replace Ignis.

“I can see that you’re upset with this change,” Nyx begins to say, quickly regaining his charming composure, “but by 'quit,' it means he has left to pursue a different career path. Doesn’t mean he left you—I mean, for another client, that is.”

A simmering silence. Aranea and Nyx are watching you with growing alarm. You don’t know why, but something in you breaks.

You force yourself to smile, but it’s not very convincing. Some actor you are. And in the most modulated voice you could muster, you say, “Good for him then.” To Nyx, you say, “Do send him my regards when you see him around.”

As soon as Ignis pulls over your apartment building, you climb out of his car, weaving past another throng of paparazzi. Someone yells “Congrats on another blockbuster! Is this your new boyfriend?” and a couple of other things that only grates your ears. Ignis is quick to follow, and he shields you with his body as he leads you inside the lobby. Probably his force of habit, but it only unearths a memory of a good time that has already hollowed you out.

When the two of you reach the front door of your apartment, he finally breaks the silence. “I’m assuming you have Nyx trapped in some dark alley?”

“No, not really,” you say flatly. “He actually let me go on my own. Cooler than my previous bodyguard, if you ask me.”

“How convenient.”

“So, sous chef to the illustrious Weskham Armaugh, huh.”

“Indeed.”

“Now, care to explain to me why you really left without even saying a word? Especially to me?” There is a tremor that breaks your voice, and his smile slowly creases to a frown. “Is that it? Was that your grand plan? Make me fall in love with you and then just go up and leave—”

“I beg your pardon?” Ignis looks mystified, as if you have said something completely ludicrous. He stares at you for a long, scalding moment. “What did you just say?”

You scoff. “Are you kidding me right now? I said…”

The realization dawns on you in a slow unravel. Before you can even formulate an explanation, Ignis steals your breath away with a kiss. You have done this before in the confines of your trailer, but this time is different. This time, the feeling is no longer secret.

“You have absolutely no idea how I’ve wanted to do that this time around,” he says with a smile. And when he tells you I love you, he does not mean I love you regardless of or I love you despite, but rather I love you just because I do.

[chrysaliseuro2019]

Will the Poms Lose their Marbles

Monday morning and we are scheduled to catch up with old friend Doug Brister and wife Kaye. Doug and I had shared an apartment in London for a number of years in the 70s and also played a lot of football together for our local team in the Medway Towns. They now live in Leighton Buzzard and we met them at the British Museum. This was an opportunity to see some of the museum offerings prior to heading for the inevitable pub lunch. Top of the list, for me at least, was the Elgin Marbles. Liz has seen them before so has other exhibits in mind. We will be going to the Parthenon in the next few days and of course that's where Lord Elgin "borrowed" them from 200 years ago. We should see the remainder at the Acropolis museum in Athens when we get there. Much controversy about the British not returning them from whence they came. They are simply excellent. A series of scenes of a procession on marble tablets which decorated the Parthenon once upon a time. There are people on horseback, others walking and animals also in the procession. They are now white or grey but would have been coloured originally and the detail is still pretty good. Explanations are also good about what is happening on each tablet. Having now seen them they are among those artefacts which for me are so interesting and so extraordinary that you want to visit them every couple of years just to remind yourself and get that buzz of pleasure. Like a Van Gogh painting. Yes they should go back. It's hard to justify otherwise in my view especially now the Greeks have a dedicated museum awaiting them. The Rosetta Stone was another highlight of the visit. One of those artefacts that you know about but in my case did not have much detail of. Fascinating to learn how it was used to assist in the translation of Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic script as it was basically a decree which was issued in both hieroglyphics and Ancient Greek. Scholars were able to compare the two and ultimately this assisted in the translation of Egyptian texts which had proved impenetrable prior to that. Those were the highlights for me in a couple of hours visit though the Nereid monument from around 4th century BC in what was then the Persian Empire is worth an honourable mention. While the rest of were "marbling" Liz visited the Egyptian section and really enjoyed the artefacts including some of the macabre but fascinating procedures required to mummify people and animals. This may be too much information for some in which case skip to the next section. Apparently they sucked the brains out through the nose (explains a lot about what's going on at Collingwood), removed vital organs except the heart and embalmed them, put them in a container and then buried them with the mummy. They salted the body (with a chemical) to dry it out and then wrapped things up so to speak. Good job if you could get it though it's a dying art. See photos for other highlights of her visit. The 4 of us assembled for lunch which was always going to be in a hostelry serving good pub food (hopefully). The British Museum is in an area of London just north of Oxford St that I hardly ever visited when living here. Doug had local knowledge as he had worked here a lot though some of his old haunts seemed to have closed. We found a local and settled down with beers, wine and spirits (each to their own preference) and nattered away about old times and new and latest family development. Turns out my godson James, their son, is going to get hitched to the lovely Charmaine who we met when last in London (on the infamous night that England were eliminated in the semi final of the World Cup). So that was great news. Kaye had had a cataract op but generally speaking both in good health, touch wood. The food was pretty standard fare, sausage and mash, pie and mash and chicken and gammon. Good stuff. After a couple of hours (and a couple of rounds!) we headed off for a stroll in a Southerly direction down Charing Cross rd. The landmarks started to get more familiar to me within half a mile or so though some things have changed. Doug pointed to a corner and said remember the Sussex pub we used to frequent - that's where it used to be though I would never have picked it with the degree of building on that corner. His memory might have been a bit more vivid as he reminded me that that was where he got beaten up one night when a gang of blokes set on him and his brother in the pub after an altercation. Of course things would have been different if I had been there - 3 blokes would have received a pasting - we were lovers (well, mostly wannabe lovers) not fighters. Our memories of the place and our time together in London and elsewhere were mostly much happier than that particular night though and we laughed our way along or occasionally felt sad about lost friends as we discussed old times. We strolled through Soho and bought very tasty Portuguese tarts and up and down a few of the back streets pointing out different things we remembered - back street casinos, the club that Georgie Fame used to play at in Wardour St, the comedy club which was in the same premises as of all places Raymond's Revue Bar - a strip joint. It was at this club that Liz and I first saw Alexei Sayle, Rick Mayall, Adrian Edmonsson and Nigel Planer the stars of what was later the "Young Ones" back in 1980 or 1981. They were comically insane back then and very in your face but hilarious. Inevitably after a while further refreshments were required and we found a pleasant little pub not more than 100 metres from Piccadilly Circus and not really touristy. A couple more refreshments and we headed off after an interesting and fun day. Doug and Kaye are good and easy company and the years peel back every time we catch up. Wonderful to see them and slip immediately back into that comfortable familiarity you have with old friends. We found out that our hosts in London Peter and Sue had plans for the night and so headed out ourselves. Last time we were in London we had eaten at Mildred's vegetarian restaurant with Georgie. Style is modern Asian food. We managed to get in again after a short wait for a table and the food and ambience was equally as good as previously. Would thoroughly recommend to all in this vicinity. It had been a big and thoroughly enjoyable day and we headed home ready for a good sleep.

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Resource Management, pt27

Word Count: 2507 Tags: @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @feelmyroarrrr @anyakinamidala @dirajunara @little-study-bug @rampant-salamander @goodnightwife @samaxraph99 @anotherotter  @outside-the-government @kingarthurscat @coyote-in-space @originalpottervengerlock @dolamrothianlady @curiositywillbethedeathofme @superheroesofbothuniverses @mtriestowrite @wanderingkat77

Author’s note: WELCOME TO CANADA!!

“Barbie Broughton? Are you fucking kidding me? Barbie? Really?” I looked at the ID. My face, and the horrible name. Colonel Rhodes had made me a captain though. That wasn’t too bad.

“It was the best I could do on short notice, Annie,” Tony rolled his eyes.

“You named me Barbie, Tony! I hope no one pulls me over,” I muttered. Colonel Rhodes leaned against the counter, watching me serve dinner.

“You’ll have to use it to check into hotels, sign credit card slips. Decide now how you want to be addressed.” He stole a wing from the plate.

“Ugh. I suppose Barbara will have to do,” I sighed.

“Think of this as an adventure, Annie.” Tony traded me a fresh beer for his dinner plate. We settled in for dinner. I steered the conversation away from everything wrong in the world, and instead we talked about the sights I was bound to be able to see on my drive. Despite having grown up in Canada, I’d never strayed too far from home before leaving to work for SHIELD. I was looking forward to seeing so much of country.

Pepper arrived and joined us for dinner. She had left a huge pile of shopping bags in the hallways. I soon learned everything there was intended for me. It was too much, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She wanted my cover so thorough and complete that I wasn’t to touch my own things until I was settled in at Tony’s cabin. She went through each bag with me carefully. The woman had impeccable taste. She’d even bought me a Lulu Lemon sweatshirt, saying she saw a lot more of it when she was in Canada than she did elsewhere. I’d never been able to justify the extravagance of Lulu Lemon before, and pulled the sweatshirt on right away. I tucked the rest of the new clothes into the new bags she had purchased for me, and zipped them closed. Tony met me in the hallway and held out a messenger bag.

“What’s this?”

“You need to leave your laptop behind. This is a new one. I’ve left some notes and directions on it. For checking in with me, and the like. No porn, Annie. Here is your new shiny credit card. There’s $500 in cash in the front pocket of the bag. Have you got a gun?” He held out the credit card. I slipped it into the wallet that Pepper had bought me. Again, the woman had impeccable taste.

“I’m going to Canada, Tony, there’s laws about hand guns,” I argued.

“You need a gun. Don’t tell me you don’t have one.” His tone was sharp.

“Alright, yes. My super gave me his service revolver.” I dug into the shoulder bag and pulled it out.

“Ammo?” He asked. I dug out the two boxes of bullets that Bob had handed me. Tony opened them up to check and started laughing. He shook one of the boxes and a roll of bills slid out. It had to be at least a thousand dollars.

“Oh my god!” I gasped, “That man deserves to be sainted. He couldn’t afford to give me that! Tony, you have to make sure he gets it back.”

“Of course.” He nodded and put aside the one box. “You’re going to need extra ammo. I’ll get someone to meet us at the airport with it.”

“I suppose I need to get comfortable with this, don’t I?” I swallowed back my nerves.

“Time is wasting, Annie. Let’s get going.” He gestured toward the elevator and followed me down the hall, dragging my suitcase behind him.

When I was a kid, my dad had always called Toronto ‘The Big Smoke’. I don’t know where it came from, and I knew about 4 other cities that also boasted the nickname, but whenever anyone said it, I always thought of Toronto. My mum had always called it Hogtown, and I grew up calling it T.O., which, when I googled it as an adult, I learned was a generational thing. Any way you looked at it, Toronto was a big, sprawling metropolitan mess. It was bigger than Vancouver, not as pretty, but definitely more famous. From my view, out the wing window of the Stark Industries jet, it looked like another big city to get lost in. I hoped for a GPS in whatever vehicle Pepper had arranged for me.

“Okay, Annie, it’s showtime. Let’s get the suit on.” Tony gestured to the back of the cabin. I followed him to the open space before the galley. He put down what looked like a red and gold suitcase and tapped it with his toe. I assumed that I should starfish, and I was glad I did. The suit snapped onto me, battering me in the process. It was not built for a woman, let alone a woman with my bust. My chest felt tight, and I immediately had issues breathing.

“Tony, I don’t know if this is going to work. I can hardly breathe. It’s crushing my boobs,” I was a little breathless. He bit back a smirk and tapped at the tablet he was holding. The suit loosened just enough that I didn’t feel like I might collapse from lack of oxygen.

“Let me know where else is bothering you. Still sore from your roll down the freeway?” He watched the suit clicking into place with a critical eye, looking down every few seconds to tap something into the tablet. It always resulted in immediate relief from something pinching me.

“Am I still going to look like Iron Man in this? Because if you keep letting out seams to accommodate my lady parts, I’m going to look like Iron Vixen,” I commented when the chestplate loosened again. Pepper snorted into the back of her hand. Tony pursed his lips and squinted.

“If you jet off as quick as you can, no one will really notice.”

“This assumes I can figure out how to make your damn suit work,” I laughed.

“I’ve got J.A.R.V.I.S. set to autopilot you. You just need to put your hands at your sides, and everything will go to plan. There’s coordinates set for the Stark Industries plant, which is where we will meet you,” he explained.

“And you think the Stark Industries plant is safe?” I asked. I was worried it would be being watched.

“It’s a calculated risk, Annie. We have to hope we’re not being watched,” Pepper offered. The helmet and mask snapped onto my head and I had a moment of panic and claustrophobia before the heads-up display flashed on, and J.A.R.V.I.S. started talking to me. I saw Tony and Pepper sit back down for the landing, and tried to brace myself, thinking I might topple over. But the suit was pretty awesome and the pilot was exceptionally smooth. When the plane taxied to a stop, Pepper signaled to me to follow her to the door. When the door opened, she nodded and J.A.R.V.I.S. took over, flying me out of the airport’s airspace at a low altitude that wouldn’t interfere with the planes. J.A.R.V.I.S. informed me that the pilot had received clearance for us to fly away. The sensation of flying in the Iron Man suit was not what I was expecting at all. I think we all have that dream about the air rushing through your hair, and lightness and freedom. I felt like I was in a steel prison. The only way I knew I was moving was by watching the world pass by below me. It was surreal.

Tony had bought me a Jeep Cherokee. Correction. Tony had bought Barbie Broughton a Jeep Cherokee. Thankfully, it wasn’t a brand new one. It was stocked with a bunch of camping gear, and was in exactly the right condition for a road trip: just a little beat up on the exterior, but tuned impeccably in the engine.

“Annie, promise me you won’t take any stupid risks. I have enough to worry about with him,” Pepper placed a hand on my arm. “And think about dyeing your hair tonight. Just to be safe.”

“Cross my heart, Pepper. Thank you so much,” I threw my arms around her impulsively. She took a short step back before returning the hug. Tony put his arms around both of us and squeezed his way in between us somehow.

“Can you blame me for wanting to be the meat in the sandwich?” He asked when we pushed him away. I shook my head, and pulled him close.

“I can’t even put into words, Tony. I never thought in a million years you would be this good, decent and kind. Thank you so much.”

“Stop, I’ll cry,” he teased. “The GPS in the Jeep will get you where you are going. J.A.R.V.I.S. is linked to it and to your laptop. You have your own encrypted hotspot for internet. Don’t pick up hitchhikers, and don’t linger too long anywhere. You’re on leave after a tour in Iraq, so you aren’t going to waste time getting to your family’s cabin in BC to get away from the world. And Pepper’s right. Think about hair colour. I’m fond of red myself.”

“I got it, Dad.” I winked at Pepper. Tony put the keys in my hand and gave me one last look before sighing and turning back to the building. I climbed into the Jeep, plugged in the iPod he’d handed me with the keys and turned the engine over. AC/DC came blasting through the speakers and I smiled. It was going to be a long drive, but I was finally on my way.

Northern Ontario was the longest, dullest, most horrible stretch of road I’d ever had the bad luck of driving. There was nothing to see, except trees as far as the eye could see. I might have enjoyed it more, but I was trying to cover as much ground as I could before I stopped. In a perfect world, where I wasn’t worried about HYDRA and Garrett, I would have stopped at Sault Ste Marie, but it was just too close to the border. I wound up stopping in Sudbury for some supplies early in the drive, but then I drove until I couldn’t focus on the road anymore, and wound up in a tiny town called Marathon. I found a hotel and crashed for the night. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. In the morning, after checking in my email with Tony and sending him a photo of the giant nickel in Sudbury, I walked over to the hair salon.

“Good morning!” There was a single woman in the shop. She was probably in her late twenties, and she had a welcoming smile. It was reassuring. “What can I help you with?”

“If you have an appointment available, I’m looking for a new look,” I started.

“I can fit you in right now. What are you thinking?”

“I’d like to try a different colour, go shorter.” I took a deep breath. I was pretty attached to my two-inches-past-regulation hair.

“Bad break up?” She asked, giving me a sympathetic look.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, honey, let’s start by washing that man out of your hair,” she pointed at the sink. I followed her over and let her go to work. I was worried that the only hair salon in a town of 3000 people on the Canadian Shield was a tragedy waiting to happen. She cut my hair shorter than I would have liked, but in the end, once I washed all the product out of it, I thought I would be quite happy with the cut. It would still go into a ponytail, and she’d given me flowy layers around my face that softened my cheekbones and jaw. I’d suggested a chestnut brown, and despite my best effort to stick to my guns, she eventually convinced me that going brunette would be too stark against my pale skin. I wound up a strawberry blonde that was eerily reminiscent of Pepper’s hair colour. I wasn’t going to tell Tony.

“I love it,” I admitted with complete honesty.

“A little less Barbie now, wouldn’t you say? You must get that all the time,” the hairdresser laughed.

“I do,” I admitted with a sigh, “maybe I should have gone red a long time ago.”

“Well, you’re red now, and no one is going to call you Barbie for a good long time.” I left a sizeable tip and found the coffee shop before hitting the road again.

It took me two days to drive out of Ontario. I stopped in Kenora overnight, and sent Tony a picture of the giant fish that was the highlight of Kenora’s roadside. I was completely astonished to blow through all of Manitoba the next day, landing for the night in Saskatchewan. It was so incredibly flat, I was reasonably sure I could already see the Rockies. I couldn’t, of course, but I felt like I could. The Timbits in Saskatchewan were significantly better than the ones I’d had in New York, and I felt like I wanted to tell someone, but I stopped myself from sharing with the old guys sitting beside me at the Tim Horton’s in Yorkton. They didn’t look like HYDRA, they looked like old dude farmers, but I didn’t want to risk it.

I sent a quick email to Tony updating him of my location, and let him know I expected to be on the road for another two days at least. If I were lucky, it would only be two more days. I’d had too many close calls to want to stop for longer than a quick stop for a toilet and cup of coffee. It was killing me to stay more than a few hours a night at a hotel, and I found that I was napping in rest stops quite a bit to compensate for my habit of leaving as the sun rose. It would be good to get to my destination. Double-checking the map was a double-edged sword. Tony’s cabin, which I was sure was not so much a cabin as a palace in the woods run on an ARC reactor, was less than two hours from my mother’s house. From my childhood home. In my hometown. That I had to drive through to get to his cabin.

I hadn’t been home in ten years, but my hometown wasn’t a vast sprawling city like Toronto or Vancouver. It was a small city that prided itself on small city culture. If I ran into one person who recognized me, the whole cloak and dagger routine would be blown, and HYDRA would know exactly where I was. With my current luck, there were probably already HYDRA thugs in town waiting for me.

[whatevenis2016-blog]

I just want my life to be different lol

I've been trying to find a new job bc I am so sick of my current job. It seems like my boss has no respect for me, bc it's a small business I don't even make minimum wage, I have to work every weekend and get a huge amount of shit if I want a weekend off (like once a year I ask), I'm a trainer so I always work with shitty new people and my boss doesn't even appreciate all the crap I have to deal with, it's food service which I obviously don't want to do forever or even much longer bc fuck that, I've worked there for almost 3 years which is way too long at a job like this. I want a different job that pays more, where I only have to work Monday through Friday, and work morning through early afternoon. At least until I go back to school in the fall. But like there only like 2 people left a work that I even like working with. So it's just a bunch of little thing that are all piling up until I hate work. And my coworker is also trying to find another job but she's afraid that if she gets a new it'll be worse than our current one. But idk maybe she feels that way but I don't think there could be a job that I like less than my current situation. Bc even if the job kind of suck, the pay will still be good, the hours will still be good. Ya know? I think it'll be fine, I just need out, I don't even care. I also hate school and don't want to go back. Like I'm regretting my whole school plan. Going straight from high school into college, first bad move. I should have taken a break bc now I feel like I'm dying. Going to a 4 years school instead of a 2 year, second bad move. I wish I had just gone to a 2 year school, got a degree in business and I would be done by now, like holy shit. I'm currently going to school for Studio Arts which I know is stupid. Who gets an art degree? Retards. That's who. But my "emphasis" is Graphic Design. So like obviously not as bad as like a painter, cuz then I would really be screwed in the employment department. But like the thing is, I don't really like Graphic Design? Okay maybe that's not right... It's more like I don't think I would like other people telling me how to make "art" for my job..? Cuz I wouldn't be able to make things I like, or do things my way bc it will be for someone else. Ya know? So I feel like I would either hate doing it, or my clients who hate my work. So like I'm feeling like I'm going to minor in Business like a smart person. I'm gonna go ham on that and then just finish my major up but really focus on my minor. Like I really just want to get a normal "desk job" tbh, work Monday through Friday. I feel like most people would hate that, or be their worst case scenario but I would be so down for that. Do the same thing everyday, have every afternoon and weekend off? Sounds great. And then in my spare time I can do all the things I actually enjoy. And I could possibly do some freelance graphic design in my spare time. But I really don't think I want to try and make a living out of that. Or I could try my hand in greeting cards and stuff cuz there's quite a bit of money in that market. I also want my appearance to be different. I don't like my current hair colour and I don't really have the time or money to do anything with it. I also chopped all my hair off over a year ago and I've finally decided to grow it out. But it's very short so it will take an insane amount of time to grow back. And it's at like an awkward length and I don't like the way it looks but the catch is, if I cut it to make it look better I would be losing length. In the long run in that worth it? Probs not. So I'm just kind of dealing with hair that I over all don't like. But once it gets to a decent length and I have money I'm gonna get extensions again. And my hair will look nice and I'll be happy. I've also gotten very lazy with my makeup which also makes me sad bc I don't feel that great about myself. I also want to buy all new cloths (bc I'm a girl and that's what we do) but I'm broke for 2 reasons, one bc I don't get payed enough at work and 2 bc my dad hasn't been working since he's had surgery. So I've been trying to save as much money as possible to we can, you know, live? And stay in our house? So in essence meaning not really having money for makeup or hair stuff or a lot of other stuff. Actually my work shoes are so fucked rn and people literally make fun of me but you know what? Fuck them. I don't have money to be buying a pear or shoes just for work? Plus I hate my job so that also adds to me not buying shoes for there. I also really want to get fake nails bc I love them. They look so nice and they make me feel good but again no money. Plus I fractured my finger a while ago and lost a finger nail. Sooo if I did get fake nails I would just be missing one nail lmao. When I finally have money one of the first things I'm going to do is buy a desktop computer. But it's gonna be crazy experience, I already know. Bc I want at least 2 monitors. One for graphic design (school and freelance) I think it will really help me get better bc I'll be able to work on stuff outside of school. It I'll be a touch screen and be adjustable. In addition to the monitor for graphic design I will need all the software. Then a second more standard monitor. I want both Windows and Mac on both monitors. I want to be able to game using both monitors. I want them to be able to use them individually and also simultaneously. Eventually I want to get all the stuff I need to live stream, so webcam, mics, headset, speakers. But like idk what I want to do first... Cuz I really want the set up to game.but I should probably get the graphic design stuff first... Or the other option would be to get the gaming monitor and cpu, then get both Windows and Mac and then get a drawing tablet thing instead of a touch screen monitor? Maybe probably. That would probably be the less expensive route.. and then just using external hard drives probably to keep my gaming and graphic design stuff separate. I also want to draw more and be better at drawing. But like I never have any motivation or inspiration to draw and or don't have time to do it. But maybe if I get the computer set up that I want, that will help with motivation. And if my work doesn't suck that much maybe I could sell my works online? That would be cool. I also want to get back into jewelry making and that's something else I could potentially sell which would be cool. Overall: No fucking idea. Like nothing about my life is how I want it to be except for my friends. I have awesome friends and a great boyfriend. But like I never get to see them bc of work and my dad stuff so even that sucks. But I have a plan. I know what I want, I just have to get there. I'll get there. Someday The thing is I know I can get to where I want eventually but like I don't want to be that old when it happens. Like it would suck to not be able to do all the fun things I want to do when I'm young bc I just can't bc of money or shitty jobs or school or so on. And like better late than never? Idk idk I don't know how I feel about all this. I just want to be happy