#we did it folks everybody go home

[a-dragons-journal]

Recently, I've seen the take going around that you can't be, say, kistunekin and Japanese-American, or faekin and Irish, etc. because it's just you as a human from an ethnic group projecting onto a cultural concept that's meaningful to you and mistaking that for a kintype when it's not. At the risk of starting drama, I am here to ask how one would tell the difference between projecting onto a cultural concept and being 'kin? Asking for a me.

..........Well, I've certainly heard the idea that you can't be [x] without being from [y linked culture] (because that's "cultural appropriation," even when it's... not), but this is the first time I've heard the opposite! Guess nobody's allowed to be a creature from a specific mythos at all anymore lmao

Genuinely I do not know what to tell you other than that is a fucking bonkers thing to say to someone, where the fuck are you hearing this, what wild circle of alterhuman drama am I missing out on. We have graduated from "You can't kin outside your race" to "You can only kin outside your race," what the genuine actual fuck, oh my gods I have been laughing about this for ten minutes now

*deep breath* Okay, sorry, sorry, I'm taking this seriously, I promise.

I am genuinely sorry that you have apparently been made to feel like you're not allowed to have a kintype from within your own culture, but - seriously, genuinely, I need you to understand that that is a RIDICULOUS thing for these people to have said, even by alterhuman drama standards, What The Fuck. There is no reason on God's green earth that you would have to be any more careful about mistaking "projecting onto a cultural concept" for a kintype than literally anyone else would be - like, that's a normal part of the questioning process, "is this actually a kintype or is it something else".

(To which the answer unfortunately is basically "nobody can tell you that except you," typically by answering questions like "does it make me happier to be seen as/referred to as [x]" and "does it feel deeply, intrinsically Right to imagine myself as [x]", etc.)

Hopefully that's at least comforting, if not especially helpful?

[natalchartnurtures]

So tell me Taylor, Who am I gonna take to be my ~Lover~?

Want a sneak peak into who YOU'RE gonna take to be your significant-long-term partner?

(pile 1 to 3- left to right)

~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 1:

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home You're my, my, my, my Lover..

Let me say this. You're opening card is the ten of cups, right of the bat.. there's this beautiful love I feel between the two of you. Their presence in your life would either happen as a consequence of you resolving some of your deep subconscious beliefs that kept you limited in terms of love or.. some of you beautiful folks I feel your person will help prove your limiting beliefs around love wrong. This part of your relationship may feel a lil scary and intense but your love for them will end up helping you all the way through.

Oh wow.. I'm getting that you and your person will take on life together, almost with this feeling of being comrades. Especially during your more difficult and uncertain times, your relationship with them will only get stronger. Its giving Bestie energy ✨️ Don't we love that around here? Hehe

They really help you calm down if you're prone to anxiety and/or overthinking. Their energy has a really calming effect on you. Which is probably one of your favorite things about them 😊

I'm getting a strong message of this person being radically different from your previous partners. Maybe you are used to partners who are possessive, lack emotional intelligence and always gave you a reason to worry but I feel your person is a FAR cry from this kinda energy which will surprise you at first I'm ngl 😅 but once you get on board with the newness they bring, you'll have a beautiful relationship with them :')

"Equal give and take" I hear. Aw.

I feel like before you did the inner work with your subconscious mind, you attracted partners that weren't all that healthy but I see that as soon as you put away your wounds and old unhelpful beliefs that you might have picked up from childhood, that may have kept your energy stagnant, to rest they will show up into your life. You won't be able to miss it!

Side note: Ya'll reeeeeally remind me of Zendaya and Tom Holland. I kept having visions of them in my mind while I was channeling for your pile.. Isn't that something 👀

That was your reading, pile 1. Hope you enjoyed it!

Love and light, sweet souls ✨️

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

pile 2:

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

Ooh.. I feel your person being highly intelligent and just really smart overall. They seem quite deep to me.. their energy is direct and doesn't really play around. They definitely come off strong to you when you first meet them. They don't seem to enjoy small talk or socializing "just for fun" they seem to take their social life really seriously which is why they might keep to themselves mostly having a very TIGHT group they let themselves mingle with.

I have to say this.. your person has developed an incredible relationship with their mind. A quite healthy one after years of suffering mental agony they have figured out how to master their own mind and as a result they seem quite mature and come off quite stable. They're giving off a strong regal vibe, like, they have a lot of self respect and/or a lot of people seem to respect your person. Your person strikes me like the kind that not everybody necessarily likes but somebody who is respected and revered (in some cases) nonetheless. Wow. Strong vibes. They could be quite an intense person too ngl. They might like to dip their toes into psychology or simply put, the Scorpionic arts or.. just be interested in the occult from time to time 👀

They may not believe in love before they meet you tbh.

They like to believe in what they have evidence for and seems like before meeting you they simply hadn't find evidence of real love.. aw, that's low-key so cute!

Your person comes off quite practical and earthy. They may move in a very strategic way, keeping their plans (and their life in general) mostly to themselves.. which is giving PRIVATE energy. They seem hella private 👀 haha

So you know they're gonna keep your relationship to themselves like it's a scared, precious thing that they gotta safeguard :')

Meeting you will POSITIVELY flip their world upside down. If there's one thing they don't understand, its love and romance. When you walk into their life, being your cute ass self, they won't know what to do with themselves and despite them being successful in their lives prior to meeting you, they'd feel lost with you. You make them feel.. dumb haha. Or they perceive it that way. You might think it to be ridiculously cute lmao.

They're definitely gonna feel A BURNING passion for you right from the get go and that's how they'll know that you're their person!

That was your reading, pile 2. Hope you enjoyed it!

Love and light, sweet souls ✨️

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

pile 3:

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue All's well that ends well to end up with you Swear to be over-dramatic and true to my lover

So.. you guy's person and you come together in an interesting way. This is immediately telling me that your person is someone you don't expect to fall in love with. Ya'll might know each other for a while (depending on each person for how long exactly) and the feelings develop overtime. For some this person might reveal their feelings on accident while being drunk one night or something along those lines lmao (very specific, so take that with a grain of salt) lol but yea it's gonna be one of those really cute friends-to-lovers type situation with you and your person or enemies-to-lovers too maybe? 👀 Some KANTHONY vibes coming through #Bridgerton <3

Haha anyway.

You won't foresee a relationship between you and your person before it happens :p

Your person.. seems to have endured a partner before you (or many partners) who didn't really care for them. This may even be a feminine friend/family member as well. They broke your person's heart in a significant way and may even have manipulated you person into staying in the relationship (be it romantic or otherwise) which they eventually stood up to. Seems like a Karmic situation too btw. This Karmic situation, really helped your person grow and evolve into the person who was truly meant for you tho 😊 yay. They've healed from this previous heartbreak and somehow this road of healing brings them to you. Ah.. The reason why this previous relationship is coming into picture is because- they probably meet you while healing from this old situation.. they'd be hard at work trying to resolve the pain the went through and their reward for doing that is.. your love. AW. STOP IT! THAT'S CUTE <3

Ya'll remind me of that song "You Belong With Me" by our queen Taylor Swift. The lyrics are playing through my head now as I channel your person's energy. You could have additional messages in that song 😊

That was your reading, pile 3. Hope you enjoyed it!

Love and light, sweet souls ✨️

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

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen: All That You Are

Plot: A chaotic press conference precedes a match that ends in violence.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: f!reader, language, minor violence

A/N: I’m gonna chalk this week’s chapters up to having some free time and also being really motivated to get to the next few. Phew, let me tell you…this is the last chance I’m giving y’all to breathe. The final act kicks off in the next chapter and we don’t stop till the very end…so everybody enjoy the fluff and the jokes while you’ve got them 🙃

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged and, as always, enjoy!

————————

AFC Richmond’s hot streak just…kept…going.

They were killing it, both at matches and training. More importantly, they were happy. Joyful, even. Which meant everyone else was too.

More and more fans started showing up to watch training till eventually, the stands were packed. Y/n had begun to come out more often, genuinely enjoying watching the boys practice, and had found a way to make it a PR matter. She helped get the crowd riled up, engaging with them and encouraging them to cheer and chant for their players. She’d collected whatever merchandise they had a surplus of, pens or coffee mugs usually, and made a game of handing them out to the fans that came. Ted had encouraged her to keep doing it, it only further fostered the atmosphere he wanted to create.

Y/n hurried upstairs one day in particular, having missed the alarm set on her phone while she was hauling a bag of freebies from the gift shop to her office. She was never late and felt like she was going to burst into flames for being so.

“Whoa,” Ted called, just a few steps behind her, “Someone call Allyson Felix. Let her know she better watch her back.”

Y/n hung back on the landing to catch her breath, falling back in step once Ted caught up. “We ran out of the mugs the other day but I’ve got coasters and coozies for this afternoon.”

“Ooh,” Ted exclaimed, “You’ve been killin’ it in the swag department, missy. Everyone’s a little more hyped knowing they get a prize just for participation.”

Y/n grunted, “Trophies for doing nothing is also why my generation hates work, so don’t applaud me yet.”

They entered Rebecca’s office laughing only to find the atmosphere contrasting their good moods. Spread out on the couch, Keeley had her face buried in Rebecca’s lap.

“Uh-oh,” Ted announced his presence, “When girl-talk turns into girl-hug, you know that either means something horrible’s happened, or absolutely nothing at all.”

“Please say nothing at all,” Y/n set her purse down and grabbed the takeaway box Rebecca had ordered for her.

“Jack’s ghosting Keeley,” their boss explained.

“Oh, no,” Ted frowned.

Y/n sunk into the cushion beside Keeley, rubbing her shoulder as the blonde snuggled back under Rebecca’s arm.

“First, she wants to go on a break,” Ted recounted, “And now the old digital Irish goodbye. Which is a term I never really understood. ‘Cause I got a buddy back home named Seamus O’Malley, and that son of a gun hugs folks goodbye for, like, twenty minutes before he leaves anywhere.”

Y/n smiled down at her salad. The last few months may have softened her, but decades could pass and Ted would remain the same.

“Yeah,” he looked to Keeley, “Sorry to hear about that. Hey, I did make you some biscuits, you know, just to soften the blow.”

“Oh, thanks Ted,” Keeley took the pink package from him and opened it. Her eye blew open, “What? There’s like forty quid in here.”

“Well, I didn’t know you were gonna be here till this morning,” Ted explained, “No time to do anything special so I just tossed a little cash in there.”

Keeley nodded, “That is very sweet. Thank you, Ted.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to it but to do it,” he shrugged, turning to Rebecca, “Hey, boss. You mind if I skip the press conference today? Michelle and I got these parent-teacher meetings I don’t wanna miss.”

Rebecca shrugged and smiled, “Of course, Ted. Family first.”

“I appreciate it.”

“So…” Y/n trailed off, “Who’s next in line?”

A metaphorical lightbulb went off over Keeley’s head. “We could have Roy do it,” she suggested, “I know he hates that stuff, but he is really good at it.”

Y/n struggled to see the “good” part of how Roy handled the press. On her last count, he’d cussed out no more than six reporters.

“I mean, you know, fine by me,” Ted replied.

Rebecca agreed, “Great idea.”

“Look at you,” Ted smiled at Keeley, “Heartbroken, but still kickin’ butt.”

“I mean, I’m not heartbroken,” Keeley fidgeted in her seat, “It’s more like heart-bent.”

“Heart-bent,” Ted mused, “I like that. It’s a great title for a country song. You know, like,” he began to sing, “I’m heart-bent, in my apartment, ‘cause all that you left, was your fart scent.”

“Alright. Goodbye, Ted,” Rebecca cued him up to leave, though Keeley was laughing and Y/n was smiling through a bite of spinach.

“And now that you’re gone,” Ted continued on his way out to the hall, “I wrote this song, ‘cause all you left was, the smell of your farts.”

Y/n pointed to the door with her fork, “Speaking on behalf of our homeland, we can do better than that.”

Rebecca snorted and Keeley rested her head on Y/n’s shoulder.

“Right,” she held out her hand, “Show me.”

Keeley handed it over and Y/n bore witness to the mile long chain of texts her boss had sent their boss. It was embarrassing to say the least, but Y/n wasn’t about to kick Keeley when she was already laid out.

“Wow,” she strained as she scrolled.

“I know,” Keeley moaned.

“It’s like a river,” Y/n mused as she surfed the rest of the blue bubbles, “Can you promise one thing?”

Keeley hummed.

Y/n handed her phone back, “No more. She’s the one that stomped on you, she gets to do the groveling.”

And grovel she should. From what Keeley had told Y/n, Jack had handled their conversation regarding the video leak and the so-called “statement” horrifically. Jack seemed offended that Keeley had dared to have a meaningful relationship before her. It was jealousy where jealousy didn’t belong.

Whereas Y/n was still struggling to comprehend Jamie and Keeley ever having been together.

“I won’t, I won’t,” Keeley threw her phone on the other side of the couch, “I’m done.”

“Good,” Y/n nodded firmly.

“And that’s all you’ve got to say?” Keeley asked with a raised brow, “Nothing else?”

Y/n purposefully filled her mouth with a far-too-large bite of lettuce. She had plenty to say on the matter, Keeley knew damn well, but she was determined not to do so unless there was a confirmed break-up. After all, Jack was still their boss.

“Nope,” she mumbled.

Rebecca and Keeley descended into a fit of snorts.

Later, the three women were were seeing Keeley out to her car. Roy was just coming down the hall when they came off the last step.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Rebecca said.

“Okay,” Roy replied before looking to his ex. An awkward silence came about for three seconds, though it felt like much longer. “Keeley.”

“Roy,” she nodded back to him.

Rebecca, blissfully, pulled them out. “So I need you to fill in for Ted at today’s press conference, if that’s okay.”

Roy didn’t hesitate in his reply, “Fuck no.”

Keeley, Rebecca and Y/n were just as unflinching as they waited for the answer to change.

“I mean,” Roy backtracked, “Why can’t Ted do it?”

His eyes went from woman to woman, waiting for one of them to answer or crack or…something.

Or nothing.

“I mean,” he pasted an unnatural grin to his face, “I’d love to.”

Y/n pointed a finger and nodded.

“Wonderful,” Rebecca replied, looking to Keeley and Y/n, “Shall we?”

The three of them left Roy in the hall, waiting for the inevitable reaction.

“Fuck,” he said rather loudly.

“I heard that,” Rebecca smirked.

“You still have my word,” Y/n remarked to her boss, “Send me up there, I’ll give them all they want to know. Sell everybody out. We’ll be on every front page in the country.”

Rebecca laughed, though Keeley missed it entirely. She was too busy glancing back at Roy.

—————————

Later in the afternoon, with the press conference a few minutes away from starting, Y/n swung by her office to pick up the notes she’d jotted down for Roy.

As she grabbed her notebook, she noticed there was a tea sitting next to her laptop.

She picked it up and examined it. It had come from the café, her name was written on the side in the big loopy handwriting Delilah, the barista, used. Assuming she wasn’t being set up to be poisoned, she took a sip and accepted the anonymous kindness.

Y/n made it down to the press room, meeting Higgins in the back and waiting for Roy to enter.

The door opened, and Beard walked through.

Y/n’s face dropped, “Um…”

“Where’s Ted?” Higgins asked.

“Where’s Roy?” Y/n corrected, “He’s supposed to be filling in.”

Beard took his seat at the desk, “Good afternoon. I know you all were expecting Ted, but he couldn’t make it today. I, however, will be happy to answer any and all questions, so,” he gestured to the desk filled with recorders and phones, “Fire away.”

Y/n took a breath, it wasn’t so bad. Beard, while not always the most sociable, was well-spoken and highly intelligent. He might have even been a better choice than Roy for his mood alone.

She regretted every thinking such a thing within two minutes.

“Look, man,” Beard sat back in the chair, “We can debate all day, Zeppelin versus Eagles, but one thing that is absolutely not up for debate is Walsh versus Page.”

“Oh, come off it,” the man fired back, “You honestly think it’s Walsh over Page?”

Y/n whispered to Higgins, “How did this go so far off the rails this fast?”

“I don’t know,” he replied.

She handed him her tea, “Hold this.”

Y/n quietly and calmly exited the room, breaking into a light jog in the hall and up the stairs. She knocked on Rebecca’s open door but didn’t bother to be invited in.

“Hi,” she greeted quickly, “Um, did something happen to Roy in the two hours since he was last seen?”

Rebecca’s brow lowered, “No, why?”

Y/n thinned her lips to a line, “You might wanna come downstairs.”

Without question, Rebecca followed her down and into the press room. Things had taken another turn in the minute Y/n had disappeared for.

“That is not what I said, Gary,” Beard angrily pointed to the reporter in question.

“I have your quote right here,” Gary chuckled.

“You did say it, Coach,” another on agreed.

“Stay out of this, Lloyd,” Beard snapped.

“Don’t shout at Lloyd,” Sarah, another reporter, said.

Y/n flattened her palm against her forehead.

“You said, and I quote,” Gary looked down at his notes, “‘Joe Walsh is a better guitarist than Jimmy Page.’ That’s what you said!”

Beard leaned back in his chair, exasperated by the fight he’d started. “Fine! I said it,” he spread his arms out in defeat, “But what I meant was that Joe Walsh, underrated. Jimmy Page,” he got stuck on the last word in his rage, “Overrated!”

The room was arguing amongst itself.

“I mean, Joe Walsh is a poet,” Beard went on, “Jimmy Page is a fucking court stenographer on Adderall.”

As the room digested the answer in shock, and amusement, Y/n reached out to Higgins, retaking her tea and taking a large swig as if it were wine.

“Are you out of your mind?” Gary laughed, “Page could beat Walsh with one string.”

“What do you mean, beat him?” Beard replied angrily, “It’s not a competition, man. It’s art, you fucking Neanderthal!”

Y/n, Higgins and Rebecca surged forward at the same time.

“Hello,” Rebecca cheerily announced, trying to draw the attention to herself while Higgins grabbed Beard, who was still arguing with Gary. “Hello! Hello!”

Y/n acted as a shield for Higgins as he walked Beard out of the room, dropping him in the side hall. But not before Beard could get in one last insult.

“‘Stairway to Heaven’” is a glorified fingering exercise, and you all know it!”

Higgins smiled at the press as he shut the door, Y/n blindly reaching behind to help him push against Beard’s weight.

“I can’t think of the last time I was able to be here with all you absolutely…” Rebecca spoke loudly over the noise of Beard still yelling into the door. Y/n and Higgins blocked his face from view. “Just brilliant members of the press down here in the pressroom. So with that in mind, I would love to take some questions. Come on,” Rebecca spread her arms welcomingly, “Absolutely ask me anything.”

“Oh, shit,” Y/n mumbled. This wasn’t any better.

Marcus from The Independent announced himself when Rebecca nodded towards him.

“Hello there, Marcus,” she greeted, “How are you?”

“Very well.”

“Good, good.”

“Miss Welton,” Marcus asked, “In your opinion, who’s the greatest classic rock guitarist of all time?”

Rebecca stuttered a bit, stuck on the question that had her blanking out on any rock she’d ever listened to.

“The, uh…” she struggled, “The…guy from Cream.”

Higgins snorted, Y/n buried her head in her hand as the pressroom quietly and collectively laughed.

“Uh…” Rebecca began.

“I think,” Y/n came to stand beside her boss, grinning abnormally large, “That in the wake of our recent wins, we’re all still a bit hazy from the excitement. I think we’re going to call this for the day, but we’ll be ready and waiting for you after the match this Sunday against Brighton. Thank you so much!”

Y/n placed her hands on Rebecca’s back and marched her towards the door.

“Uh, Ms. Y/l/n,” Marcus spoke up, “Care to comment on who you think the greatest guitarist is?”

“Keith Richards,” Y/n answered, “Purely because he’s still standing.”

Whatever reaction she’d caused, she didn’t hear them. Her and Higgins had gotten Rebecca safely out into the hall.

“Sorry about that,” she shuddered.

“You’re alright,” Y/n patted her shoulder.

“‘The guy from Cream,’” Higgins giggled.

“Yes, all right,” Rebecca twisted to face Higgins, “Don’t start with me, Leslie! I panicked,” she took a seething breath, “I’m going to murder Roy Kent.”

“If you don’t, I will,” Y/n exhaled.

“Look, Roy not doing press is just Roy being Roy,” Higgins stated.

Y/n gestured to the door they’d just come out of, “And look where it got us.”

“Well, I am sick of Roy being Roy,” Rebecca spat, hands on her hips, “So it’s time for Rebecca to be Rebecca.”

Without another word, she marched off in the direction of the training room. The boys would nearly be done with their afternoon workout.

“Oh, yes,” Higgins agreed, “Absolutely- I couldn’t,” he turned with Y/n to watch Rebecca strut away from them, “Yeah. There you go. Yes! Ooh!”

Y/n breathed a laugh, if anyone rubbed off on her from Richmond, she hoped it was Rebecca. There was a fierceness inside her that Y/n had never possessed in her life, but she’d have liked to.

“Stay for the aftermath?” Higgins asked.

“Oh, definitely,” Y/n nodded. She wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to stare down Roy.

Quick enough, Rebecca marched back up the stairs, Roy following thirty seconds later. While Higgins’ best frown was still his worst smile, Y/n glared at the coach unflinchingly. He did his best to ignore them both on the way up to Rebecca’s office.

“Another day,” Y/n mumbled, her and Higgins heading their separate ways for the rest of the afternoon.

As she walked down the hall, some of the boys came out of the training room. She high-fived them before coming up on Jamie, bringing up the rear.

He flicked the cup of tea, still in Y/n’s hand, and smirked. “Cheers.”

Y/n looked back and met his waiting gaze, the two of them sharing a smile. The days at Nelson Road grew more unpredictable the further into the season they got, but some things were as constant as breathing.

——————

The day of the Brighton match started as normal as any other. Y/n made the familiar trek to the owner’s box, taking a seat between Keeley and Higgins, and braced for the ninety minutes of nerves she both hated and loved.

“Oh, it’s Jack,” Keeley announced as she scrolled her phone. The three of them sat to attention as they waited to hear the text, “She’s saying that she’s in Argentina…for the next couple of months.”

“Ouch,” Higgins commented. Y/n scoffed while Rebecca pulled Keeley into her side.

“Well,” Keeley took a breath, “I think our break is actually an ‘up.’ So now that Jack is officially my ex,” she looked between the group, “Please feel free to say any of the things that you didn’t like about her.”

Rebecca sighed, “Well-“

“Ooh,” Higgins chimed in, “Her handshake was way too firm. You know-“ he groaned and grunted as he imitated the action, “I get it. You’re friendly. Good riddance.”

Y/n bit down on her bottom lip, trying to keep the comments from flying out her mouth.

“Something you’d like to say, Y/n?” Keeley asked knowingly.

Shaking her head, she tried to go the diplomatic route. “Just want to watch some football.”

Keeley slowly nodded, staring out at the field with her.

“And she’s a fucking asshole,” Y/n muttered as low as she could to let only Keeley hear it. They smiled to one another.

Right off the bat, the Greyhounds were struggling. Isaac, usually so focused, was off his game. He cost them a goal kick and earned Brighton a corner instead. It wasn’t like him and the fans were letting their displeasure be known.

Even worse, when Colin lost an easy goal, Isaac went after him. The two of them argued until Jamie and Sam, playing peacemaker, held Isaac back from following Colin any further.

Y/n frowned, something had to have happened before the match. The boys were far more in sync than this, and they sure as hell didn’t fight each other.

The first half ended on the heels of Dani just nearly making a goal, only for Brighton to block it. The score was 1-nil as the Greyhounds trudged back to the locker room.

Higgins, Y/n, Rebecca and Keeley went silent as the fifteen minute break began. There wasn’t anything to say.

Y/n’s eyes were glazing over the crowd on the opposite side of the stadium when a commotion started. She followed the noise to the tunnel to see Isaac, leaping into the stands and grabbing one of the fans.

“Oh my gosh,” she mumbled. Keeley, Rebecca and her all rose to their feet.

With the distance, the scene could hardly be seen properly, but it appeared that Isaac was holding the fan by the shirt and yelling in his face. The ref had never pulled the red card out so fast. It was unprecedented and unacceptable.

Higgins rushed out his seat, the women moving to make room for him down the aisle. Y/n’s eyes followed Roy as he helped Isaac down and started shouting something to the security guards.

The scene died down as quickly as it began. The fan was escorted out of the stadium and the Greyhounds disappeared into the tunnel.

“What the hell was that?” Rebecca finally asked.

“I don’t know,” Keeley breathed.

Internally, Y/n began to feel some sort of panic build. She couldn’t decipher the complexities of it, all she knew was she had to move.

“Where are you going?” Rebecca asked as Y/n slid past them.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled Keeley’s same answer, already climbing the stairs.

She hurried through the suite, past all the fans opening social media to post that they’d witnessed the fight themselves. Past all the fans in the concourse exclaiming how McAdoo was about to fucking kill the twat. Y/n couldn’t hear any of it as she made for the personnel-only entrance into the building.

When she made it to the empty hall outside the locker room, she faltered. Her immediate reaction would be to run in, but she knew it was far from appropriate. Her hand instinctively reached toward the door, even with feet of space between her and it. She couldn’t.

Nearly as soon as she’d thought it, Isaac came bursting through the door, unaware of her presence as he stalked to the boot room. He slammed that door shut and Y/n flinch at the sound.

Ten seconds later, Roy came out much more peacefully, but still with purpose.

Y/n stepped forward, her movements and her voice hesitant, “Hey-“

Roy could see the concern etched deeply in her face and touched her arm as he passed. “I got it.”

It wasn’t often that Roy wasn’t scowling, wasn’t speaking like he smoked a pack of cigarettes a day. For him to speak softly, to voluntarily comfort someone, he had to have meant it.

Y/n stood frozen as he shut the door to the boot room, all the pieces of her reaction making sense suddenly. After Isaac had attacked the fan, her first thought hadn’t been about PR. It hadn’t been about the clean-up her and Keeley would have to do, the stress of it all. It hadn’t had anything to do with what the internet would think or the fans or anyone.

Her first thought was to wonder if Isaac was okay.

She knew by now she cared about AFC Richmond. She had a special affection for Rebecca and their weekly tea. Keeley had cracked her way past Y/n’s gates simply by being herself. Ted was the nicest slice of home she could have gotten.

This was different. This was caring so deeply for the team that she was standing in the hall, unmoving until she knew they were all alright.

It was no longer about letting them in, Y/n knew, it was about how deeply etched in her heart they were.

She waited, waited, the whole fifteen minutes, hearing only the muffled mumbles of the team’s conversation through the doors. When they cheered and exited the room, their spirits seemingly lifted, none of them even noticed her against the wall.

Y/n moved to stand outside the boot room, catching Colin and Trent as the last ones to exit the locker room. Trent threw her a small salute that she matched, before heading out to his own seat. She still wasn’t leaving until she knew all was well.

Eventually, Roy came out of the boot room with Isaac in tow. The disgraced captain glanced up at her as he passed, Y/n made a point to squeeze his arm. He didn’t flinch at her touch, but didn’t make a point of lingering as he headed to the locker room to wait the game out.

As Y/n inhaled, Roy nodded, “He’s alright.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

The two of them walked back to their separate paths, Roy heading out to the pitch and Y/n heading back to the owner’s box.

The match turned around after that, tremendously so. The Greyhounds had hit the pitch united once more, particularly Colin, who’d assisted in both goals that had led them to victory. Balance seemed to have been restored, and while Isaac would still be the most memorable part of the game, Colin’s efforts wouldn’t be forgotten.

And, as always, Y/n’s work began the moment the ref called it.

There were strict instructions from both Keeley and her to Higgins not to grab any of the players. They’d no doubt be asked about their captain’s actions and none of them needed to deal with that stress. Ted was the only one who could comfortably handle it.

They waited with Rebecca in the back of the room, Higgins and Trent joined them at the last minute.

“He’s on his way,” Higgins said.

“Thank you, Leslie,” Rebecca replied before turning to Keeley and Y/n, “You gave Ted some talking points?”

Keeley frowned, “No. I haven’t done that in a long time.”

“Not for a while,” Y/n added.

The side door opened before Rebecca could truly begin to worry. Where Ted should have strolled in, Roy did instead.

“Fuck,” Y/n whispered, punctuated by a gag from Higgins.

Roy took a seat at the desk, staring down the entire room. No one was wearing their surprise well.

“Yeah, alright, you got me today,” he growled, “Any questions?”

Every reporter’s hand went up, all of them shouting to get Roy’s attention.

“Fucking hell,” he mumbled before pointing to one of them, “You. Five-o’-clock shadow head.”

Gary, self-proclaimed Jimmy Page fan, stood up. “Coach Kent, do you or the organization condone what Isaac McAdoo did today?”

“What a stupid fucking question,” Roy was quick to reply, Rebecca, Higgins and Y/n all screwing their eyes shut. “‘Course we don’t. What Isaac did was awful. He was lucky he only got a red card.”

“Okay,” Gary relented, “So why’d he do it?”

Roy chuckled, looking like he was nearly about to say something before stopping himself. Instead of cursing or snarking, he settled back in his chair.

“When I was first coming up through Sunderland, there was an old-timer on the team,” Roy began, “Local guy. He and his wife were about to have their first kid. So during training one day, I made a joke that statistically, I was probably the real dad. And the boys fell about laughing, but he went fucking nuts. He battered me. Properly. I had a black eye, chipped tooth, three broken ribs…I couldn’t play for six games. He got booted off the team. After that,” Roy shook his head, “No club would go near him.”

“Then in the summer, after I could breathe again,” he went on, “I bumped into him in a pub. And I got the chance to say sorry for my stupid fucking joke. And he got to tell me he and his wife had lost the baby a month before all that went down. He hadn’t told anyone. Kept it all inside.”

The room had fallen hush, save for the occasional click of a camera.

“Look, I get that some people think if they buy a ticket,” Roy’s voice regained its strength, “They’ve got the right to yell whatever abusive shit they want at footballers. But they’re not just footballers. They’re also people. And none of us,” he dragged his finger across the room, “Know what is going on in each other’s lives.”

“So for Isaac to do what he did today, even though it was wrong,” Roy pointed to his chest, “I give him love. And as for why he did what he did,” he leaned closer to the microphones, “That’s none of my fucking business.”

That was it. There was nothing left to say. Roy had handled it with more grace and patience than anyone could have expected.

Y/n smiled to herself, “Okay.”

“Next question,” he called to the room, which erupted back into shouts and flashes, “Yeah, new Trent.”

“Coach,” Marcus spoke up, “Let’s talk about Colin Hughes.”

“Yeah, he’s a hell of a player,” Roy answered, “And a great man. I think we’ve underused him.”

“I think you’re right,” Marcus said.

“Glad we agree,” Roy replied, “I prefer you to old Trent.”

The room laughed before Roy called on the next reporter. Rebecca and him shared a look of acknowledgement, this was making up for his ditching of the last presser.

Roy went on answering questions a few minutes longer before abruptly calling it. As everyone was saying their goodbyes for the evening, Y/n caught him in the hall.

“You did good,” she complimented.

Roy grunted a little, still bad at taking praise about anything other than his professional abilities. “Sorry if I…made your job harder the other day.”

She shrugged, “No more so than anyone else. You’re just more of a dick about it.”

Having said it with a smile Roy knew Y/n wasn’t serious…totally. His lips quirked up ever so slightly.

“Night, Roy,” Y/n said, hitting his arm as she walked past him.

“Cheers,” he replied, heading his own way.

—————————

While the day was a victory, Jamie was exhausted. Some of the boys had gone out to celebrate, he was one of the ones who decided heading home was more appealing.

A ring of the doorbell dragged him off his couch and into the entryway. He opened the door, his chest both filling and draining at the sight.

Y/n was leant against the frame, a soft smile on her lips. She held up a paper takeaway bag.

“I won’t tell Roy if you don’t,” she promised.

Jamie chuckled under his breath and moved to let her in.

It wasn’t just the match that’d worn Jamie out. Colin’s confession in the locker room was…heavy. Weighing most on Colin, of course, but when the celebratory noise had died down and Jamie was left to his own thoughts, he found they were louder than normal.

Y/n showing up only acted as an amplifier.

Here was Colin, hiding away one of the biggest parts of himself. Forced to keep the person he loved in the shadows for fear of the public’s reaction. He couldn’t hold them, couldn’t be seen with them, couldn’t claim them. The person who meant everything to him.

And here was Jamie, with the woman he cared about most standing before him, feeling the weight of his privilege.

“Samir was working tonight,” Y/n announced as she slipped off her shoes, “He kept asking me if I was buying for us both. I think he slipped in some extra-“

She was cut off by Jamie, wrapping his arms around her in a full embrace.

Jamie wasn’t good with words. He was barely good with feelings. And expressing them was a whole other matter. What he did know to be true was that Y/n was the singular most important person in his life. Whether he’d realized it before or not, he wasn’t sure. But it was suddenly crushing him, he was overwhelmed by his affection for her. She was the best part of his worst times, the highlight of his days. The literal sunshine lighting up the darkest parts of him, the parts everyone else looked at and ran from. But not her, never her.

Y/n stumbled a bit, Jamie steadying her as he tugged her to his body. It wasn’t like they never hugged, but this felt different. The whole day had been so emotionally charged, she wasn’t surprised that he was feeling some of it. She wasn’t sure what had happened in the locker room between halves or after the game, but whatever it was had done something to him, and she apparently was the solution.

The truth was, Jamie was the first person Y/n hadn’t tired of being there for. She wanted to save him at every possible opportunity. To be there for him in whatever way he needed her. Lord knows he had done it enough for her. He’d looked at her ugliest parts and matched them, the two of them somehow growing together through their horrible histories. Some relationships were easily replaced, but there could never be another Jamie.

Y/n slid her arms around Jamie’s back, stealing some of the comfort for herself.

Jamie rested his chin on her shoulder, shutting his eyes and letting the moment wash over him. The world could stop, just for a moment, and it would be there when they broke apart. But for now, Y/n was all he wanted to feel.

They stayed in the hall, clinging to one another, having only unwrapped the first layer of what all they felt meant.

—————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

[amuseoffyre]

@triflesandparsnips made a rather spiffy observation on my post about Ed and face-touching:

It may be worthwhile, considering how much face/mouth violence Ed is sensitive to -- and when we see or hear about it -- to do a review of how much of that face sensitivity is also associated with food and eating.

And hooboy, I ended up down a rabbithole thinking about Ed and food and it got so long, it earned itself its own little post.

These are all the food/eating related moments that tie in directly to Ed having strong emotional responses. I didn't limit it to just the face-touching because there's a lot of emotional mess going on as well.

When Stede wakes him for brekkie in 1x04, he recoils immediately as he wakes, until he realises who's beside him (especially pertinent since Ed wakes in 2x03 and asks if anything was done to him while he was unconscious - he even anticipates harm while sleeping).

in 1x05, when he's being taught the intricacies of dining and the French captain slaps on his big red trauma button while he's sitting at a dining table and already feeling out of his depth with all the tablewear.

Cut to the flashback in 1x05 which has him and his mum talking quietly in one part of the room, but his father is there, slumped and drunk on the family dining table, setting the domestic sphere as a place of constant present threat.

Later in 1x05, when he's alone at the party, he's freaking out over not knowing how to deal with this kind of fancy-folk dining and then someone touches his face - double-whammy of the emotional stuff and the physical.

1x06 gives us the main flashback to his childhood and his father's violent reaction to 'slop' and 1x07 has stressed, out-of-his-comfort-zone hangry Ed, trying desperately to keep up the Blackbeard appearance ("Blackbeard can't be seen treasure hunting!") and again, something touches his body/head unexpectedly and he lashes out defensively.

There is so much going on in the brekkie scene that I can't even get into it here. Ed trying to code-switch between the way he interacts with Stede and Jack respectively, but most significantly, when Jack talks over him and ignores him trying to change the subject about violence he's done in the past, Ed shrinks down in the chair, doing the small-and-quiet thing he does when he's unhappy (one day I will yell about Ed taking refuge surrounding himself with gold/yellow things - blankets, chairs, robes, pillowforts. His version of the battle jacket).

1x10 has several moments. First is the marmalade - there's something child-like about the blanket fort and eating sweet sticky things with his fingers, taking comfort in food and hiding.

The second is something that is viscerally explained in S2 - when he forcefeeds Izzy his own toe. The contrast of the brutality and the very paternal "now don't forget to chew" like an adult talking to a child gave me chills the first time I watched it.

The last thing in 1x10 isn't necessarily food, but hooooboy there is something in the way he sets himself up at what was Stede's brekkie table, putting on the worst of personas possible, that is very much reminding me of his dad at the table in a bare, empty home, lit by a single candle, in that first flashback.

And now, into S2, and our man starts things in a totally healthy and normal way - eating the cake with his weapon. And, more importantly, "did everybody get cake?" Again, we have the juxtaposition of implicitly care-taking language against the surrounding violence and brutality.

The gravy basket tells us so much as well - he wakes up to the horror of being vulnerable, trapped by his own body and force-fed by someone who we learn had a habit of forcefeeding live crabs to people and who had threatened to flay Ed's skin off and feed it to him. He's rightfully afraid that anything Hornigold feeds him might be poisoned.

Once again, we have the parental energy of "open up for the cargo ship" tangled up with the fear of threat and violence and horror - poisoning, flaying and force-feeding.

Ed's fear has the two utterly bound up together, inescapably so. His father shaped his childhood and Hornigold stepped into that role when Ed became an outlaw.

But even in this messy and horrifying confrontation with his own psyche and layered up with the horrors he's lived through as a boy, some part of Ed still desperately wants the comfort and security of food and home, especially when the food his subconscious is gathering for him are the ingredients for Māori boil-up, something his mother would very likely have made for them.

It speaks measures that the three things he wants to live for include good food and warmth and orgasms. No fame. No glory. No reputation. Just to be loved and safe and warm and fed.

Jump forward to 2x04 and dinner with Bonny and Read. Ed is unsurprised by the degree of violence happening throughout, but does hesitate when poison comes into the equation - "I got the present you left for me in my glass" - Ed immediately sets down his glass, staring at it warily. Again, calling back to the Gravy Basket and his fear that anything given to him might be poisoned.

He's already on edge and off-balance - "not sure what's real and what's the basket" and there may or may not be poison and knives and the person he trusted may or may not betray him again and he's already spinning out when Anne - who had already declared her intention to provoke Ed and Mary - cheerfully lands the bombshell of why Stede left him.

No small wonder he storms out of the room, but it does lead to them having a much-needed conversation and he and Stede are on a much steadier footing after.

And then, of course, we have the breakfast of 2x07. This one is especially significant because Ed makes the brekkie then disposes of his leathers. He's actively trying to step from one mode of life to another, from the Blackbeard-and-Piracy into the domestic, softer life he's been quietly craving his entire life.

Only, as he says himself, "I don't think I've ever made regular breakfast for anyone before". He's trying, but it's something new and unfamiliar to him and it's "my way of saying thank you".

And lastly, we have the scene with the fisherman and his son where Ed has shoe-horned himself into what he thinks is the solution to all his problems and also includes a father-son dynamic, because our man can't do anything without his daddy issues rearing their ugly head.

Once again, Ed is out of his depth, but at the opposite end of the scale from the party ship. This is a place he thinks he should fit but he doesn't. This is the domesticity he craved, but without understanding or appreciating the real work that is needed to get there.

And once again, over a meal, he has an angry father expressing violence. "Control your pop-pop!" he tells the boy who is around the same age as he was when he killed his father. But he doesn't fight back, he doesn't strike out at Pop-pop, and the son steps between them and pulls his dad back several times.

And it's this father-figure's words that ring in Ed's ears when he realises Stede may be in danger. "If you were ever good at anything, do that". And if there's one thing Ed Teach is good at, it's fighting for the people he loves.

In conclusion our Mr. Teach wants a safe and comfortable home-life, with food and warmth (and orgasms), but he has no real experience of what that is really like or how to get it. His entire life has been a succession of threats and danger and men who would do harm to people in their charge, especially when they were unarmed, defenceless and vulnerable.

He doesn't know how to be safe yet, because he's never experienced it. All he's known until this point is a life of violence and danger and while he tried to move away from that, the violence and danger was still there - as Stede put it, there's no escaping it in their line of work.

But now, at the end of S2, for the first time in his life, he is actually able to say "No, I need to be away from piracy" because his whole journey through both seasons has been him trying and trying to step away from the life that has him by the throat.

And now, he's finally been able to do it and he's not alone. He has someone he's safe with and who is willing to do the work with him to help him figure things out. And give him good food, warmth and, of course, orgasms.

[anitalianfrie]

so, after trials and tribulations and many many insults thrown the way of bad quality vhs, i proudly present you: the translation of the video of vale's eighteen birthday!

when there were long pauses between the dialogue, i put the timestamp before it. my comments are between [] .

video and translation under the cut :)

Vale (VO): the “Valentino Rossi production” presents, in collaboration with the idiots of Tavullia, this epic footage. 

Vale(VO): Valentino Rossi, the man, the rider, the moron, turns eighteen 

Vale(VO): there’s a new name in the register of the Carabinieri [cops] of Tavullia, it’s him, Valentino Rossi, the kid with a man’s body and the IQ of a boiled zucchini. He gets from his father a great shaft and the brain of the chicken he used to keep on a leash. Valentino Rossi, the man, the rider, the moron, when he gets interviewed he says about himself “I’m Valentino Rossi” and then he loses his focus. He doesn’t like to define himself a nepo baby because he doesn’t know what it means. The one who merges the spirit of a rider with the hair of a folk drummer. Everybody seeks him, everybody calls him, but once they get to talk with him they mourn the loss of the answering machine. 

Vale(VO): contacted by the Philip Morris International for a contract of billions, he declines the offer because he doesn’t smoke. Valentino Rossi, he rocks! And the Aprilia makes a wheelie. 

Vale(VO): the next one will be his second year of competing in the world championship, but he still thinks he’s riding on a minibike, and he’s perpetually desolated because after the chequered flag he can’t find the turtle on his helmet. Nowadays, he’s the only rider paid by the Japanese to stay with Aprilia. Let’s enter his kingdom, his home, thing that sometimes he can’t do because he topples over in his ape car in the parking lot below. 

(4.44) 

Boy1: Marshall 

Boy2: Oh, let me look at the video 

Boy1: Marshall 

Boy2: C’mon, get out of there 

Boy1: Marshall. What then? 

Vale: How are you? 

Boy2: Nice, with the Marshall starting 

Vale: Cosmic 

[i have honestly no clue what this conversation is supposed to mean. It might be an inside joke, or they could be taking about an actual marshal of the Carabinieri] 

Int: Valentino Rossi, how does it feel to be eighteen? 

Vale: eh, how does it feel... eighteen years old, it’s an important age, we’ve all become a bit older, I have – rather than we have – gotten more mature compared to when i was younger, you don’t do the things you used to anymore, we’re all way calmer, basically now is... now it’s time to leave the fun behind and to get serious 

(6.26) 

Vale(behind the camera): Come on! Super risky! 

Vale: Do it here! 

Vale: Go again! 

Vale: Now it’s sure [unintelligible] get down! 

Vale (after the guy “jumps” with the bike): You need, you need the feeler gauge to measure how high he jumped! We measure it with gauge! (laughs) 

Boy: even the wheels! 

Boy: vale? 

Vale: eh? 

Boy: turn it off 

Boy: incredibly- 

Vale: wait, wait- okay, now go, a comment on this sensational jump- super high, a jump out of this world, done by Michele 

Boy: incredibly, the wheels touched the ground even on the [unintelligible] 

Michele: that’s thanks to the suspensions, really... optimal, that let me- 

Vale: a question Michi, wait- 

Michele: -all this speed, and... 

Vale: I’m zooming on you... but how did you do it? 

Michele: Oh God, i don’t- 

Vale: fucking hell, it was sensational, a- 

Michele: the good thing is- 

Vale: -mind-blowing jump 

Michele: did you see how i got down? 

Vale: ah- fuck, no 

Michele: you didn’t see it? 

Vale: it was out of the thingy, out of the lens and.... now we try the calibre and we measure [unintelligible] 

Voices: Whooo, let’s go!  

Vale: show off!! 

Vale: now we will show you a trick, that even Orfei [name of a famous circus]- Orfei came to Tavullia and asked us to perform it. Look. It’s on the verge of the unpredictable 

(8.46) 

Boy1: Oh god 

Boy2: another Panda 

Boy2: three motor scooters, incredible, incredible! 

[waywardcrow]

Timeless.

Chapter V.

Summary: 1943. 1975. 2024. Three different decades, three different lives, three different times your life and Bucky's interwined; he lost you twice, will he do it again?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader.

TW: It can change each chapter but themes of Bucky as soldier in WWII and as the Winter Soldier in general, lots of feels, a little bit of angst, fluff, two cuties pinning after each other, 40’s!reader is mentioned to be named Beth but that changes for 2024 version of her so I nicknamed her little bird for Bucky, Ace for everybody else, this will be a +18 story so minors dni.

Disclaimer: Please remember english is not my first language so if I make a mistake or forget something let me know.

Pictures from pinterest and graphic and dividers by the amazing @ firefly-graphics so all credits to the creators.

Previous chapter <;<<

Harper sent you the most astonishing suit you had ever seen.

The color complimented your skin tone, the cut was clean and highlighted every part of your body you liked; she left a note on top too.

“This is your new beginning, Ace, go get them.”

It made you smile, still you didn’t wear it, the suit was too expensive. Your choice was one black plain pencil skirt, white blouse and simple heels. Your makeup and hairstyle wasn’t too special also, you wanted Pepper Potts to see what you were capable of beyond your fashion choices.

After making your way to the tower and making all the procedure, you met your new boss.

“Maria is going to give some training and we can get some things done as we start working together” the ginger woman said behind her desk, you gave a nod and she smiled “relax; you’re going to do great.”

You didn’t know how to relax; it wasn’t in you to be able to do it.

Maria Hill, an intimidating but efficient woman, made you sign a confidentially contract which was fine with you, you were given an enormous pile of information that made you believe you were not qualified enough for this.

“Thank you miss Potts- Pepper” you rectified, giving her a list of her things to do “miss Van Dyme is coming after lunch to discuss your partnership with Pym industries and Dr. Stephen Strange asked for an appointment tomorrow too, you have your daughter’s teacher reunion at ten so maybe after it could be a good time”

“It’s perfect, Ace” the happy tone in her words made you smile. After being so long stuck with someone who only made you feel stupid, it was nice to have some reassurance.

You both went about your day and the familiar environment of the office setting helped you to focus instead of losing it, you were working with the Avengers! Your folks barely believe it when you called them, in all honesty you almost couldn’t believe it too.

The day was easy, probably because Pepper wanted you to don’t give up and when you least expect it, it was time to go home.

“Are you sure miss- Pepper?” you asked for the millionth time, obviously going home before midnight wasn’t usual for you.

“I’m completely sure, Ace. Please go home and rest, tomorrow we have a great day” not very convinced, you did what she say and after saying goodnight you took your things and walk to the elevator.

When the doors opened your heart raced in your chest.

Sergeant Barnes smiled at you when you entered the elevator, giving you enough space between your bodies.

“Are you ok, miss?” his smile faltered and you tried to look less like an idiot.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just tired” you lied “I didn’t see you all day”

In the moment your words left your mouth, heat rushed to your cheeks, what the fuck were you doing?

“I was working on something with Sam, he can be a pain in the ass sometimes” he explained without making evident how dumb you were being. The doors opened again and he walked with you to the entrance “are you going home or-?”

“Home” it was a whisper under the city noise but he could hear you perfectly.

“Maybe I could drive you there, if you want” it sounded crazy but he almost looked shy, like you were about to reject him. For a moment, the memory of your dreams about that boy smiling at you in the moonlight came back.

“Yeah, I’d like that”

It was the right answer, his face light up and it took you a second to remember how to breathe.

Bucky directed you to his car in silence which was a good thing because your head was a complete mess, what were you doing? There was no way you could deny you felt attraction towards him but it wasn’t like you were the only one, the man was breathtaking so you were just reacting to that, it was a complete different story to think something could happen between you two.

He opened the door for you with the same politeness he let you walk first out of the elevator and your hands shook a little. It was nothing, he was a gentleman, he came from the time gentlemen were a thing, for all you knew he probably had a beautiful girlfriend waiting at home, ready to welcomed him with mind blowing sex and plans of a future together.

Being the silly hopeless romantic you were, the thought made your heart ache.

“Did you forget something at the tower?” he asked again when he started driving, Bucky looked a little concerned about you so you tried to smile.

“I’m fine, sorry, just leave me near the next subway station”

“Why would I do that? You are not going to the subway and not at this hour, little bird, it’s too dangerous” Bucky was too affronted to realize his mistake but you weren’t.

“Little bird?”

For a moment you could see how his jaw clenched, like he was scolding himself but then it was gone and he gave you a boyish smile.

“It’s ok if I call you that? Just felt appropriate, you’re sweet and small and I don’t know” he shrugged before the light turned green and then you didn’t think about anything else but how perfect it sounded that nickname in his voice.

“I’m obviously small next to you Bucky, you grew up like ivy around a stone house, don’t ya think?”

The most melodic laugh came out of him and you weren’t in his car anymore, instead it was a tent surrounding you and the chill of the autumn air around you.

You started bickering like you knew each other all your lives, he asked you about your day and then you asked about his and what had him so busy with Sam which led to something very interesting.

“Alright, in my defense I don’t go around looking for old ladies to charm” he defended himself after telling you a story about a bingo night in Louisiana with Sam and a very nice old lady who gave him her number.

“You’re a heartbreaker, Bucky Barnes” you told him holding back your laugh, he was so cute when he was all flustered, you could swear you saw him like this before.

“I used to be”

He stopped in front of your building and the sad tone in his voice made you want to reach for his hand to comfort him, despite that your hand stayed still.

“I’m pretty sure you still are, maybe you don’t find the right lady yet”

His sky blue eyes found yours, making the air inside the vehicle heavy with unspoken words. His gaze never left your face; he looked like he was fighting with himself.

“I did find her, actually” Bucky finally said and your hopes crashed against each other.

“Oh” was everything you could say.

“In the 40’s, she was… she was gone shortly after I disappeared” his voice was barely a whisper but you could hear him perfectly being that close, this time your hand closed around his.

“I’m so sorry Buck” your jealousy was long forgotten, a silly crush was nothing compared to losing someone like that, when the details of his pardon were made public they said that he was believed to be dead when in reality he was captured a second time by Hydra, you couldn’t imagine how it was for his lover to lose him twice when he was alive and suffering and for him to lose the woman he loved with everything else that monsters took from him.

A heart crushing pain that was always there hit you, your soul aching for both of them, for the young soldier Bucky was, for the woman who surely waited until her last breath to see him again.

“Please don’t cry little bird, I didn’t mean to make you cry” he wiped your tears with his hands and your skin felt hot at the contact, why were you crying? God, he surely would think you were an idiot or a fake jerk.

“I’m fine, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying” stopping was impossible but Bucky didn’t look at you like you lose your mind, instead he hugged you, rubbing circles in your back. His scent of leather and mint made you close your eyes and start to relax.

“Everything is ok little bird, you’re fine, I’m fine” he mumbled against your hair.

Taking a deep breath, you calmed down and put some space between you two.

There was concern in his beautiful face and that was normal after your behavior but there was also something more, something that made you both move towards each other before a honk startled you, making you fall from his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Barnes, I don’t know what happened to me” you apologized, taking your purse before he could say anything and getting out of the car to your department.

You didn’t stopped running until the door closed behind you.

Tag list: @cjand10 @bunnyforhim @cookingdancingchick @moon-light1928

Next chapter >>>

Hiya! I know it's a small chapter but I was not at my best these past days but here we are, tell me what you think! And if my tags work! Please.

Love, Lily.

[jungle-angel]

Two Boys and a History Class (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: Normally you and Bob would leave Auggie with your in-laws, but since his mother is having surgery, you officially welcome him into the classroom family

Tagging: @bobfloydsbabe Helena I couldn't help myself with this one because the thought of Bob with a baby does things to me that I just can't explain (lol). I hope you're ok with me including Auggie in some of these and I apologize in advance, the baby fever is out of control at my end (lol).

Warnings: Mentions of a breeding kink, Bob popping off on a visiting teacher who's clearly beneath him etc.

"Alright, so does anybody have any clue as to what the most important part of Erik the Red's reign was?" Bob enquired.

"Not only was he an explorer but didn't he found the first settlement in Greenland?" Deshawn asked.

"You would be right my friend!" Bob declared proudly. "Erik the Red was indeed an explorer and did also found one of the first Viking colonies in Greenland...."

He was suddenly interrupted by the click of the door handle and the creaking of the classroom door before Mrs. Hess, the painting teacher, stuck her head in the door.

"Mr. Floyd might I borrow you for a minute?"

Bob signaled for the class to wait a minute before he followed Mrs. Hess out into the hallway. "I'm so sorry to bother you Bob," she apologized. "But your father came by with the baby."

"Is everything ok?"

"Oh yes," Mrs. Hess assured him. "Auggie's fine but he said that your mother's surgery was moved to later this afternoon and they won't allow him to take him."

"Shit," Bob hissed.

"My thoughts exactly," Mrs. Hess said. "Your wife said she's going to get him but I think she also asked about combining classes."

"Perfect timing," Bob said. "We do that every Friday afternoon."

"Wonderful!" Mrs. Hess said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I'll tell you right now too, if that detestable visiting teacher says anything to you or to (y/n) I'll have him shipped to my neck of the woods and see how he deals with the folks in Chatham County, Georgia."

Bob had to laugh. Just like Mrs. Reyes, no one dared to mess with Mrs. Hess. She was a Southern lady through and through and always had a good quip for anyone who got on her bad side. The high schoolers even had their own slogan for kids coming fresh out of the lower school......"don't mess with the Hess."

Bob waited patiently for you to come down the hall with baby Auggie. "Alright guys, it's looking like it's that hour!" Bob announced once he was back in the room. "And this time Mrs. Floyd brought a little guest this afternoon."

All of the students collectively gasped when they saw you walk in with the baby. Any time you brought Auggie in, the grew excited beyond words. Nobody in the entire school could resist his cuteness, let alone the fact that he looked so much like Bob.

"Everybody put the desks together," you announced, carefully picking Auggie up out of his carseat.

"You want me to take him sweetheart?" Bob asked you.

"Do you mind?" you asked Bob.

"It's not a problem at all," he told you. "We made him together and it means I help you shoulder the duty together."

"You're right," you told him. "But lest you forget mister, that part of the reason we made him was due to that fiery breeding kink you keep buried until we're home alone."

Bob chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Don't even start," you laughed, warning him. "Let's get back to business."

You and Bob wrangled together your students to continue the lesson while Bob kept Auggie safe and secure in the curve of his arm.

"Now in Mrs. Floyd's literature block," Bob continued, touching up his notes on the chalkboard. "We're at a point where the Fellowship has reached the woods of Lothlorien and left behind the mines of Moria. What sticks out to you guys most in this part? Any major themes? Elements? Justin."

"Um, I'd say the biggest one is kinda that darkness turning to light," Justin Daly answered. "I remember picturing the scene in the films where the mines were like really deep darkness and then you get to the woods where at night it's all brightly lit."

"That is an excellent point," Bob told him, adjusting Auggie so that the baby rested against his chest. "We come across alot of that throughout the books, but also vice versa, right?"

"Right!" the students responded.

A knock at the door suddenly had Bob rolling his eyes. "We're not to be disturbed!!" Bob announced loudly.

"Mr. Floyd, it's Mr. D'Nadi," answered the male voice on the other side of the door.

Bob groaned and rolled his eyes. All of the students fell quiet as Bob opened the door to find the pretentious visiting teacher from another school standing before him.

"You're not wearing dress slacks but jeans?" Mr. D'Nadi asked.

"In some cultures I'd be considered overdressed," Bob informed him.

"Yes well, I um.....I came to enquire about that proposal you're working on for the school?"

"Yes," Bob said flatly.

"I cannot stress enough that the proposal is what's able to allow your students to go on these field trips that you plan every year," D'Nadi explained rather sharply. "If you plan on taking these kids to Norway....."

"Already done," Bob told him.

"Mr. Floyd....."

"Listen dipshit," Bob interrupted. "We all know that you're only here as a visiting teacher......keyword there....visiting. You are merely here to observe and then go home. Under no circumstances were you to tell anybody in this school what to do or how to implement their lessons."

"Listen I know it's more responsibility but...."

"Do not lecture me on responsibility," Bob told him sharply. "As you can see, Mrs. Floyd and I take care of our students who are like our own family and if your observation skills were up to par, you'd see that we've got a baby to take care of as well. Now if you'll please remove yourself and your foot from the door, that'd be great."

"You do know that protocol doesn't allow you to bring your own children to work?" D'Nadi tried to tell him.

"Fire me," Bob told him before shutting the door right in D'Nadi's face before he could say anything else.

Bob pressed a soft little kiss to Auggie's cheek before turning back to the students who were trying not to giggle.

"Shall we keep going guys?" he asked them.

Both you and the students cheered and applauded Bob, without a doubt proving that he was the best history teacher in the entire school.

[makingfanfictionstosleep]

My First But Not My Last.

Pairing : Gojo x Femreader, Geto x Femreader

Setting : Started from Pre-Cult Suguru Geto // Some folks will not die // Modified that Kenjaku will not totally take over Geto's subconscious later on // Girl bff Shoko, Mei Mei & Utahime, Strong sorcerer reader // Death, Murder Spree, Romance, Lemons.

Rating : M || m i n o r s d o n o t i n t e r a c t

Part 11 : My Last

<;< Previous | Masterlist

"Let's get this shit show on the road," You said with certain numbness & exhaustion in your voice.

You just wanted to rip Satoru Gojo out of the Prison Realm & take him far away. Probably you'd drag Nanami with you.

But that couldn't happen because of the following reasons :

Only you can nullify the prison realm;

Only you can nullify Sukuna from within or drive him out of Megumi's body, however there's a 90% percent chance that he will emerge as the greatest curse of all time;

You'll die if Satoru Gojo dies. Not because of whatever. But because of heartbreak.

So you have to hold your shit together & get Satoru out because you need the strongest to fight the strongest before he consumes all of Megumi, if he hasn't already.

"Look, I don't know what shit's in there, so brace yourself for all kinds of curses," you warned everyone around, "If we haven't had our hands full already. This could be the start of the real shit show."

Nanami & Inumaki were already on their feet, much to Shoko's dismay.

You recalled the incantations you read on the book & with the tip of your finger, you dispelled the prison box.

It started to shake as soon as you touched it & everybody were on full alert.

Each gate started to open up & slowly, Satoru Gojo stepped out of the portal, leaving the cowered skeletons beneath him.

The box sealed shut & Satoru smashed it with his cursed energy to the ground, obliterating it upon contact.

You were in tears as you saw your favorite white-haired guy.

You couldn't stop yourself from running towards him & as soon as you made contact with his body, you melted in his arms immediately as he wrapped his arms tightly around you.

"Missed me, princess?" He whispered in your ear, making you cry even more, before you started to hit him violently for the scare that he caused you.

"You fucking jerk! Do you have any idea how much we've gone through just to get you out?!" you cried as you hit him over & over, leaving the audience astounded as you were able to land every single hit due to your ability, "You fucking scared me, you fucking idiot! What would I do if you die? I can't fucking lose you, fucking jerk!"

Satoru understood how terrified you were. He saw it. He saw how you scoured every book in the archive of your school, then realized that one of the ancients would have it in their files. He was proud, but at the same time, as equally as terrified that you'd be in danger.

He held your tiny wrists & wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back in soothing circles as he whispered, "I'm here, baby. I'm here. You did a good job. I'm here. Shhh," which helped you calm down.

You didn't leave his side. You didn't even let go of his hand, even while everybody was fililng him up. He didn't see the rest of the fights as he was focused on you. He felt really bad that you had to face his old best friend & put him to rest, but it has to be done.

He held on to your hand as tight as how your gripping it with as if with your dear life.

"Satoru, I am serious. We can't have you rampaging recklessly. I can't, I just can't lose you. I will die," you said... No you begged for him to be cautious & to listen to your plan. If it goes well, then you will all go home, possibly with Megumi & Itadori, not unscathed, but safe.

Satoru held your face in his hands as he forced you to look him in his eyes, "Look at me, Princess. I will not be reckless & I heard you. I will do my best to follow the plan & not go rogue."

"Okay," You nodded like a child, tears glistening as he continuously wiped every drop that falls on your cheeks, "Okay. I need you Satoru."

"Now can I have my fierce Princess back?" He asked with a bit of smug in his tone, "Cause I need her to win this."

You pulled yourself together, still not breaking eye contact because you also wanted him to know that you in it with him no matter what, "You have her. Always."

"That's all I needed to here & the only motivation I needed," Satoru pulled his blindfold back to his eyes.

"You heard my girl & her plan," Satoru said in a commanding tone, "Let's get on with it."

It was the real shit show, as you put it.

Your theories were right. Those books were right.

Sukuna was driven out of Megumi's body as the most powerful, if not, greatest curse of all time. That's expected from the king of curses.

Subduing him was not easy. 20 fingers is equivalent to 20 special grade curses. And you have to defeat them all.

It didn't happen that night, because the moment he was driven out of Megumi's body, he fled.

But He returned, one curse at a time & it didn't take long before you realized that these were his fingers turned into powerful curses.

And the last one was the most difficult of them all.

But you were able to finally subdue it.

Megumi did not leave the battle unscathed. He had to undergo a lot of therapy sessions to ground him - emotionally & mentally because his final straw was when Tsumiki died at his hands.

The same goes for Yuji Itadori, for every person he killed, but he was doing much better because he started to accept that when he fought Mahito.

Kugisaki had a long recovery, but with the help of Shoko's & Hiruguma's ability, she was able to get back to her feet & regain parts of her body that were blasted by Mahito.

Todo regained his boogie-woogie with the help of Hiruguma's advanced reverse cursed technique, which he taught Shoko later on. He left his profession as a lawyer & studied medicine to become a doctor like Shoko.

Yuta was finally able to face his feelings for Maki, which she had an even harder time to accept that somebody wanted her for who she is.

And of course, Miwa finally gave Muta a hug the moment she found Dr. Ieri at Tokyo & they were inseparable ever since.

You, however, took the time off to teach your now-fiancé how to use nullification to control the infinite amount of things that his 6 eyes are seeing. It helped in conserving his energy.

As for Nanami, he took an indefinite leave & booked a flight straight to Malaysia. And you were extremely happy for him. He's the one who deserves all the rest & luxury in the world.

The proposal? It was dramatic since it was Satoru Gojo.

It happened right after Sukuna was defeated.

You were all panting & almost running out of strength. You were all worn out, disheveled & dirty from all the blood & fighting.

That's when he swooped you off your feet with the most breath-taking kiss, with the other sorcerer's watching as he declared his love & devotion for you - much to Utahime's disgust for public displays of affection.

But it was perfect, befitting for the World's Powerful Couple.

"There's nobody who can keep up with my feral side except you, Princess. What do you say? Wanna spend infinity with me?"

"You cheesy idiot, of course I would," You answered with the happiest smile, as everybody cheered for you & Satoru's engagement.

A/N : So that's it. Again, I dunno how I came up with this. It was pure drabble of whatever shit that came to mind. I know there are SO MUCH loopholes so don't come at me for it. I just want Satoru, Nanami, Muta alive, Inumaki with all his limbs, my favorite trio - Yuji, Megumi & Kugisaki recovering to good health, my ships - MechaMiwa, Yuta x Maki. It's my AU so if it's not your cup of tea, then move on to the next fanfic. Anyway, to those who reached this part, thank you for reading through that though I dunno how you survived that because honestly, this is pure drabble with no fixed plot in mind (apart from keeping those folks alive). There may be some side stories though, I'm not sure how & where to start with that, but the main story is done.

[fuck-customers]

kitchen anon back with an ecstatic update!

J finally got fired :)

his hours had been severely cut and he was working more often at a different venue in our collection of businesses. after like a full pay period i finally worked a shift with him again. however, the two new folks in my section (EXCELLENT, by the way, i cannot sing their praises enough, both to the chef and to their faces) had both been scheduled that night. by the time J showed up that night we had already gotten almost everything done and really just needed to make ranch dressing.

so he starts roaming the kitchen, slouching, dragging his feet, hands in his pockets (all of which chef has told him not to do, for various reasons including he’s putting himself in everybody’s way and we don’t have that much space to move, and which chef later confessed to me he had already been considering writing him up/firing him for on its own) instead of like. finding some kind of busy work or something? wipe a counter, sweep a floor, stock something. idk. one way or another we had more hands on deck than were needed for the night and i had to be in early the next morning. however i did get very smug when the line lead told him to get back to “his section” and J got loud and bitchy about “it’s not MY section anymore, it’s [Anon]’s section,” because he’s fucking mad that i make him look bad for giving a fuck about the quality of the work i’m performing i guess lmfao

anyway given my official position as a floater, i asked chef if he wanted to put me anywhere else for dinner service, because we didn’t need four people in a section that two people can handle on a busy night when we’re well-prepared (like we have been since the two new folks showed up). he said no and sent me home, but little did i know he was planning to test J. i learn of this the next morning when one of the new folks greets me with “i need to tell you what happened last night”

the breakdown i got was that after i left, J wasn’t calling back orders, and chef was riding his ass for it all night. he’d call a dish on the fly, J wouldn’t call that he heard and just start working on it, and chef would lean through the expo window to snap at him. he continued to trudge around with his thumb up his ass between orders. later, towards the end of service but before they had stopped seating new customers, still actively preparing food and calling orders to each other, J’s got his earbuds in. line lead scolds him, snaps that “you know better than to have those in during service,” and chef happened to be rounding the corner at the time, and sent him home with like half an hour before service closed. chef made a comment about how he wanted to give him a chance because he’d initially hit it off and worked well with the new girl (who initially relayed these events), and J scoffed, with her standing right there and having to hold her tongue to stay uninvolved, but she revealed later how tempted she’d been to tell him off right there. after he left, chef pulled her aside and assured the section wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.

chef confirmed these events with me later when he confessed that he’d been considering firing already; he usually only pursues it as a last resort because people tend to look for other jobs at the first sign of trimmed hours in our already inconsistent open schedule, and he doesn’t like filling holes in the staff lineup with temp workers—he’d rather replace them before they leave. J hadn’t quit at our venue, but had been working at the other site; chef confessed to me that he didn’t suspect J would be working there much longer, especially full-time, because the chefs and shift leads in that industrial-scale kitchen over there are going to crack down much harder on those behaviors.

between me, the line lead, and the new folks all coming to chef about J’s attitude and behavior and failure to communicate or cooperate, after so long without him on site chef had hoped he’d take the opportunity to try and show he was willing to turn around. instead J gave him the perfect straw to break the camel’s back on a silver fucking platter, and i remember the way the sun kissed the green hills of the shire.

Posted by admin Rodney.

[tathrin]

Okay but the Dunedáin. They've been roaming the western wilds for years and years. And then Aragorn goes off and gets himself made king of Gondor, huzzah ring the bells sound the trumpets etc.

But.

The Dunedáin. Do they all go to Gondor with him? I feel like that's the implication of things. But like...do they all want to? And if/when they do, how does it go?

(There has to be a significantly higher number of them than the 30 we see represented by the Grey Company, too, right? Like even assuming the addition of wives-elders-and-children to those numbers, there has to be a much larger population than that if they're maintaining a population. Even with intermarrying of the other locals. Like, even with Magical Noble Lineage going on to keep things from getting wonky, they can't be interbreeding that much or else everybody would be an Heir To The Throne Of Gondor by now lmao. Those 30 have to just be a fraction of their folk. The "good riders and good warriors who could be gathered on quick notice" fraction.)

Is everybody excited to leave their lowkey wilderness-with-the-occasional-vacation-in-Rivendell existence in favor of the Fancy Shiny White City Full Of Other Humans? The Dunedáin have been living like this for hundreds and hundreds of years. It's not just a "we spent a few decades in exile, but taught our kids Our Ways to preserve them, so they'd be comfortable when they went home" situation. They've been living like this for so long that this is their way of life. This is their home. And now they're supposed to just pack-up and go to Gondor and be fine?

And how do the Gondorians react to having not just a new king, but a new king who brings along a whole bunch of scruffy Rangers for his retinue? Are they welcomed eagerly by a people who've just endured great loss of life and need hands to help them rebuild? I mean tbf probably at first, sure; but how long does that welcome endure without starting to cool when these Rangers prove to be not just Gondorians From Elsewhere Who Nonetheless Act Just Like The Rest Of Us And Know Our City And Its Ways As Well As We Do? Because they don't! They don't even know which hall is used for banquets and which for dancing! They don't know that on Aldëa we wear carnë! and so on.

(Do they all just go to Ithilien with Faramir out of sheer what-the-fuck-am-I-going-to-do-in-this-bigass-city-ness?)

Yes they're all of the Blood of Westernesse and all that, shared Numenorian heritage blah blah blah...but imagine you've been living off-the-grid in the forests of Pennsylvania, and all of a sudden you're dropped in the middle of NYC and told this is your home now, enjoy? How weird would that be? How bizarre, how overwhelming?

Maybe you like it, maybe you thrive there! Maybe you find that Gondorian Civilization is what you've been looking for all along! But what if you don't? What if you find you really hate crowds, and the politics of the city are stifling, and you didn't spend the last seventy years travelling all over Middle-earth learning everybody's ways and culture, thanks, and frankly you'd rather be back in Bree making small-talk with simple farmers and Hobbits, where everybody knows your (nick)name and you're comfortable? Even if you do like it, even if this is All Your Hopes Come True, it's still got to be enormously disruptive. And if you don't...yikes.

(Again, sure, there's Ithilien. But even though that wild-land-recovering-from-the-scars-of-the-Enemy would be more familiar ground to you than the city itself, and Faramir is a great guy and all, Ithilien still isn't your home.)

Like...you don't get to just go back, do you? (Do you?) Maybe but even if you do, even if some of them did, their way of life is still kind of broken; because most of your fellow Rangers are in Gondor now, and you aren't even allowed into the Shire, and the Enemy you've been guarding folks from all this time is gone...

And sure, it's good! This is a good result! This is the Best Case Scenario Ending, really!

But still. What about the Dunedáin?

[crepesuzette2023]

from The Beatles Book Monthly, No 23, June 1965.

JOHN: This month, Beatle People, I would like to give you an unbiased lecture about a truly sensational new book to be published, price ten and sixpence, on 24th June by Jonathan Cape, who are very good publishers as everybody knows.

PAUL: Hey! Wait a minute. He said an informal conversation not a flippin' commercial. We're both supposed to discuss things. Like the film frinstance.

JOHN: You discuss the film, frinstance, and I'll discuss this book. It's called "A Spaniard In The Works", folks, and it would be cheap at half the price.

PAUL: Don't you mean twice the price?

JOHN: You see, Beatle People, my learned colleague agrees that it's worth twice the price. Printed throughout in two glorious colours. Brown and green. Printed on real paper too, Beatle People. You can't lose, can you?

PAUL: Don't forget what John says. 24th June. Jonathan Cape. Ten and six-pence. "A Spaniel In The Circs.”

JOHN: "A Spaniard In The Works." Good grief, you'll have a Rolling Stone rushing out a book called "A Spaniel In The Circs" and all my good work will be undone. I say again, sir, undone with a capital UN.

PAUL: As I was about to say before I was Beatled, we've finished filming "Help!". Actually the last scenes were done at Twickenham a couple of weeks back but we've been called into the studios several times since for overdubbing. That means, well, you know when you see an outdoor scene in a film and the actors are miles away from the camera. Well, they can't use microphones or you'd notice them growing out of bushes or sticking round the corner of buildings. So if there is any dialogue in scenes like this they have to put it on the soundtrack afterwards. That's called overdubbing.

JOHN: There is no overdubbing in “A Spaniard In The Works" folks. No cheating and miming like that. A Spaniard If The Works" is live, LIVE, L-I-V-E. All Live. The book was written indoors using only close-range microphones, typewriters, ciggie-packets and green and brown ballpoint pens for the drawings. Remember, folks, only "A Spaniard In The Works" comes to you completely free from skin-irritating overdub.

PAUL: In Nassau we had to keep out of the sun because the scenes we did out there come at the very end of “Help!" and it would look funny if we were all brown and tanned in the snow sequence which you see earlier on and then pale and unhealthy in the Bahamas bit. All sorts of odd people that you'll know play parts in "Help!". Roy Kinnear, Frankie Howerd. The Queen Mother was nearly in one scene—but that was unintentional. She was driving by the film location in Nassau on her way to the airport after touring Jamaica.

JOHN: Pity she didn't stop and join us.

PAUL: We had a fabulous time down on Salisbury Plain a couple of weeks back. We did four days of location filming there with tanks and troops which were on loan from the Army. Bit chilly after Nassau with lots of rain showers and a cold wind but, without giving away any production secrets, I think the Salisbury scene is one of the funniest of the lot!

JOHN: Fun, fun, fun, with them chasing us, and us chasing them, and me chasing you and where's the tea Mal.

PAUL: One of the greatest free evenings we had during the making of the film was at Obertauern in the Austrian Alps. There isn't a great deal of night life but we made some of our own. It was the assistant director's birthday and we were at the Marietta Hotel. Dick Lester found an old piano in the hotel and we all had this gear sing-along session.

JOHN: It's a new craze. Yes, folks, it's all the rage. Have your own read-along session at home! A complete do-it-yourself read-along kit comes free inside every brown and green copy of "A Spaniard In The Works" PAUL: There's not much more I can say about the film without giving away very hush-hush secrets about the story. There's going to be a Royal Premiere in London on 29th July. At the Pavilion in Piccadilly Circus where "A Hard Day's Night" opened last summer. Then the film will start going the rounds in August and there's a New York premiere a week later. We do a European tour in June but we'll be back home long before the premiere. All I can say is I hope everyone enjoys the film. In a lot of ways we're all sorry the production is finished 'cos we had a great time making it.

JOHN: Is that all you've got to say?

PAUL: Yes, I think so.

JOHN: Well, if you've quite finished, perhaps you don't mind me having a quick word with Beatle People about this book.

PAUL: Which book is that, John? it says on this ciggie paper you've just handed me.

JOHN: I don't like talking about it really. People will think l'm plugging.

PAUL: Ah, go on, John, nobody'll think that.

JOHN: No, I can't. I'm bashful.

PAUL: Please…

JOHN: All right. Read all about "The National Health Cow" and "Cassandle" (on different pages). Read all about “Silly Norman" and "Benjamin Distasteful" (both in glowing green and beatle brown). These and fourteen other unbelievable fables before your very mouth in "A Spaniard In The Works”

PAUL: Aren't there drawings too, John? you asked me to say when you stopped the tape recorder just now.

JOHN: Yes, yes. Well, sort of. One of them (in brown and green which are very artistic colours and especially cheap to print, you see) is a full-page drawing of a fat budgie. Beatle People will be interested to know that I ate nothing but SWILL, the new deodorant bird seed, for six weeks in order to get into the right mood to draw this particular picture.

PAUL: What happened?

JOHN: I fell asleep on my perch but the picture came out O.K. I drew it in two minutes flat. Flat on my face at the foot of he perch.

PAUL: And what is the title of this new book of yours, John?

JOHN: Oh, I'm so sorry. Didn't I mention it?…

[for-a-longlongtime]

On Dieter, Goya's Black Paintings, and Pedro on Talk Art 

Alright y'all, it's Saturday evening, I have nothing better to do (I actually do but I don't feel like it), so welcome to my mini TED Talk about 'how to pay too much fucking attention to the Pedro cinematic universe'. None of this is new, and maybe everybody already knew about this, but I didn't... so here's a nerdy tangent courtesy of googling/wikipedia-ing.

I was reading a Dieter!fic (this one right here by @chaoticgeminate - go read her writing!) earlier today, which refers to the 'Saturn Devouring His Son' painting - that giant mural Dieter is working on in The Bubble:

(his brush isn't even touching the wall tho, ha)

The original 'Saturn' by Goya

The fic mentioned its part of 'The Black Paintings', so I got curious and started googling. I'm no art major or expert, so please allow me to just paraphraze the Wikipedia page. 'Saturn' is part of a group of 14 Goya paintings that are called Pinturas Negras/The Black Paintings. They "portray intense, haunting themes, reflective of both his fear of insanity and his bleak outlook on humanity" --this was late in Goya's life, and was connected to several illnesses he had experienced (and the fear of relapsing) and political turmoil in Spain at the time (post-Napolean war, changing Spanish government, etc.

Trivia fact 1: Goya actually made these paintings right on the walls of the Quinta del Sordo (so-called Deaf Man's villa) where he was staying -- so I love that Apatow had Dieter also paint right on the walls.

Trivia fact 2: while Goya was living in this villa, he actually became gravely ill (again) - not by a pandemic obviously, but it's hard to not link that loosely to the COVID period. He had never intended for these 'Black Paintings' to become public; "these paintings are as close to being hermetically private as any that have ever been produced in the history of Western art" (the murals were eventually transfered to canvas by other folks once he had moved out of the villa). Switching back to The Bubble -- I love how the tragic influence of Goya's illness(es) and art/things 'made at home away from the world, not intended for an audience' (so obviously, in a bubble) has that connection to the COVID experience and how many folks were suddenly homebound, along with the burden of illness in many ways (lord knows this all did a serious number on our mental health). In the movie, Dieter and the others do not want to go into isolation again, but that solitude is what eventually led him to painting on the walls in his room. This is not a 'grand discovery' of any kind, but I got a kick out of the parellels once I read up on it - and honestly makes me appreciate the movie a bit more, haha.

Not happy about another quarantine period.

Alright, more hyperfocusing after the cut:

Some googling led me to a post from last year by @nicolethered (gifs in this post are hers), and she included screencaps of the walls of Dieter's room (during that drug scene), which I hadn't even noticed while watching the movie. Upon taking a closer look, I noticed they're outtakes from other pieces of Goya's Black Paintings! I thought that was really cool, they sure worked on the details with that set (there's one more that's shown in a different shot but I can't exactly figure out which outtake that is):

First one is a mirror image from Two Old Men Eating Soup and the second one is basically Satan aka 'The Great He-Goat' from the Witches' Sabbath painting. Which IMO makes for fucking hilarious perfection a.k.a. trivia fact 3 -- because we all know about Dieter and his little emotional support goat, LOL. Excellent connection.

*insert sound bit from Hot Ones interview* : "Just let me love you!"

Anywaaay there's more. The Bubble was shot during Feb 22, 2021 to April 16, 2021, right? Pedro has spoken about how his input in shaping Dieter was mostly regarding his outfits (the Crocs, the robe, etc). But then I suddenly remember the Talk Art interview he had done in 2018, and how he namechecks 'The Dog' by Goya - and lo, guess which painting is actually part of the 14 Black Paintings? Yeap - the dog! So I checked the podcast and he was asked, 'if you could be any painting, what painting would you be?' by Russell. Here is the painting, and below it is what he said on Talk Art:

'The Drowning Dog' by Goya

"I think… it's a Goya. Yeah, old school. I think it's called 'Dog Buried in Sand' or something like that. It's so… I remember feeling it was such a visual representation of helplessness, in such a… come on, let's all admit that helplessness is a very recurring feeling for many of us, you know what I mean? When it comes to so many things. I guess… I was in Spain, in Madrid, and I was 20. And I went to the Goya museum. What's interesting about it is that the head of the dog is really quite small and sort of adorable, it looks like a stray mutt, and the painting - if I can remember it correctly - is very rectangular. There's so much above him, like the world just seems so big. It's quite incredible, isn't it? I know it's really sad, and sort of dark, and maybe I really like enjoy perceiving myself like..." (He gets interrupted by Russell, and then continues;) "Yeah, he's certainly not dying, it's sort of - it's a moment", (then interrupts himself with;) "Maybe he's totally dying, there's no way that dog is getting out of that. That dog is SO fucked. Anyway, that's the painting that represents my life". (All three of them burst out into laughing.)

If you're still reading this - I am impressed with your dedication to my silly little post, haha. Anyway, I just thought it was so striking that there basically is a straight line from the painting he mentioned in Talk Art to what Dieter is painting in the Bubble. Makes me wonder if perhaps he - or even Russell/Robert - had any input in that part of Dieter's backstory.

Thank you for attending my TED Talk on artistic analysis of Dieter Bravo during COVID, we now resume your regularly scheduled program for Saturday night. 🤪

(Have I been smoking because a local dispensary actually had 'Mando' bud? I sure as fuck have and I blame that for this post.)

[moonlightazriel]

Slow dancing in the dark /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: She was everything i was not, seeing him falling in love with her was too much to bear.

Warnings: Angst just pure angst

Word Count: 1,2K

Note: I was a little bit sad when i made this so i'm sorry folks. Nothing against Elain though. Part 2

Main Masterlist

Ever since i can remember, Azriel and i were best friends, and i was probably in love with him for the same amount of time. The problem is that there was always a better female that caught his attention, first was Mor, i couldn't blame her, even if she was my friend, i still felt insecure and compared myself to her.

I was always there for him, whenever he wanted to complain about how unfair it was that she would choose Cassian when he was just there to love her the way she deserved. The funny part is that i used to think the same, but never got the courage to tell him anything.

Things got way worse when the Archeron sisters came into our lives, Nesta and Feyre were nice to me and i liked them, but Elain never liked me, even when i tried to be nice to her, she would dismiss me like i wasn’t worth of her attention. My heart broke when he started hanging out with her, i noticed how he would open up to her, how his eyes seemed to shine harder when he saw her, he would even allow her to touch his hands. She always made sure that i was near when she did these kind of things with him.

I decided that it was for the best if i just pulled my feelings aside,i would often find excuses to not be alone with them, nor being near them if i could avoid. He noticed my absence, i knew he did, but he ended up not trying to get in touch with me anymore, we just drifted apart. The rest of the inner circle tried to cheer me up, but nothing worked, i guess broken hearts are not easily fixed.

Mor spent the whole week trying to get me out of my home, she didn't stop until i agreed to go to Rita’s on friday. She showed up at my door early, to get me out of my misery, “ You should show him what he’s missing”, i just brushed her off when she said that, how could i compete with Elain? Her sweet and innocent personality, her brown hair and eyes, her angelic features. My face didn't looked as good as hers, and i wasn’t as nice as her, years of fighting and traumas led me to be a more introverted person than i would like to be.

Mor made me shower, while she got her things ready, she made me try on some dresses until i found one i liked, i end up choosing a deep black dress, with a flowy skirt with i slit on the side that showed a little to much skin, the upper half holded my frame perfectly, the thin straps flowed in a v-neckline, for the first time in months i felt pretty. She straightened my hair and for the make up, only a little bit of mascara, an elaborated eyeliner and red lips.

“You look hot.” Mor said, she was standing behind me, she looked perfect, her hair in waves, dark make up and a velvet black dress hugging every part of her body. She winnow us inside the night club, pulling me towards our usual table, everyone looked at me, Nesta was the first one to get up and hug me.

“I'm glad you're here, you look stunning.” She held me tightly, i could feel the tension in the air as the rest shared worried glares with each other. The air got stuck in my lungs and i felt a lump forming on my throat when i heard his voice behind me.

“Hey everybody.” The same awkward tone he always used when in public, turning to face him, i noticed how she was clinging onto him, my heart shattered once again in my chest and i had to force a smile. “OH, hi Y/N. I wasn't expecting seeing you tonight.” The hurt in my chest grow to notice that he was treating me like a stranger, he was looking at me like i was someone else. Maybe i shouldn't be here.

“I convinced her to come, it’s not the same without her.” Mor said, pulling me closer to her. “Let’s grab something to drink!” Grabbing me by my hand, she directs us towards the bar. She ordered four shots and we drank them quickly before going to the dance floor. I wasn't going to let them ruin my night.

A couple of drinks later and a few dances i decided to sit down, forgetting about the two, only remembering when i approached the table, too close to turn around, i sitted, being the mature person. The silence was extremily uncomfortable, Az was in the other side of the table, across from me, his shadows reaching out for me, their phantom touch sending shivers through my spine, i really missed how they would get out their leash just to run to me whenever i got closer. Elain seemed to notice and rolled her eyes, i saw how she looked at me, a wicked grin on her lips as she called him, his head turning slowly in her direction, her hand flying to his face as she pulled him in for a kiss.

It was like the all the air on my lungs got knocked out as he broke the kiss, the guilty look on his face as he watched me and then it happened. They always described as the feeling of getting home, or breathing after a long time under the water, but for me it was like i was being held under water, my throat burns and i felt the tears gathering in the corner of my eyes, my body felt weird, like it wasn’t my own as i watched the golden thread, tying us together for eternity, the other side was empty and i assumed it just hadn’t snapped for him yet.

I needed fresh air before i passed out, rushing to get away from my mate and his lover, i didn’t even bother to say anything, but i still could hear her sacrcastic laughter and her pleads for him to stay. Aiming for the back door, i managed to reach it and i stumbled out, my legs felt weak and i felt like throwing up.

“I know i'm probably not the one you wanted to see right now, but please tell me whats wrong, you don’t talk to me anymore, don't even look in my direction, we’re best friends!” He said, clearly frustrated. The alley had barely any light, it was empty and cold, just like i felt inside.

“That’s the problem Azriel.” I said, looking at him, tears falling freely now and i couldn't care less. “I don't want a friend, i want my life in two, with you. I tried to deal with the fact that you probably would never feel the same, but i can’t stand it anymore, and that kiss only proved that i can’t be near you, that she enjoy watching me suffer, at first i didn't mind, thought that maybe i was crazy, but now i see that she does it on purpose, i can’t keep doing this, dancing alone with the ghost of what we used to be. I'm sorry.” My entire body felt numb, the only thing i was able to feel was the throbbing pain in my chest. I had to get out of here, his red face and broken expression was the last thing i saw before winnowing away.

[flowersforjude]

𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ≈ 𝐢𝐢. 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

❛𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦 ❜

﹙finnick odair x oc!fem reader﹚

﹙previous chapter ➵ next chapter ➵ masterlist﹚┈﹙read on ao3 ➵ read on wattpad﹚

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | canon typical violence, bandaging wounds, mentions of lack of food/food aversion, finnick odair being charming, etc.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.4 k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | When you see the tag 'friends to lovers', believe it. Finnick and Lyssa's friendship is so sickenly sweet it makes me hate myself. I love a good enemy to lovers as much as anyone, but I CANNOT write that for Finnick. I tried. But this is a slow burn, so y'all get that.

Once we pushed through the crowd of people and reporters that had already gathered around the train station, we were ushered into the dining car. There was an extravagant meal set out on the long table. The steam and scent rising from the bowls of soup, baskets of bread, trays of cheese, and more made my mouth water. I held myself back from devouring the whole spread. Hector had no such reservations; he sat himself down and loaded his plate.

"Do help yourself, dear." Sabine instructed when she saw me standing there. "I'm going to inform your mentors that you're here."

After she left, I continued to stand, gazing at the meal before me. It's not that I didn't want to eat; I did. While 4 wasn't necessarily a poor district like eleven or twelve, there was a severe separation of those who were well off and those that struggled. My family had the misfortune to be part of the half that struggled. So yes, I very much wanted to eat, but I was afraid of throwing it back up since my stomach wasn't used to rich Capitol food.

"For crying out loud, sit down and eat." I was startled by Hector suddenly talking. He pulled out the chair by him and patted it. "Come on."

I hesitantly sat down and reached for a slice of the steaming bread. If I ate a little at a time and slowly, maybe my stomach would have mercy on me. When I finished the bread, I took a piece of cheese and another slice of bread and placed the cheese on top.

"Is that all you're going to eat?" Hector asked. "Don't you eat that on a daily basis?" When I gave him an incredulous look, he got a little flustered. "Sorry, it's just that folks from your part of 4 don't have a lot. I figured you'd want to try the turtle soup or whatever that pink stuff is."

"I don't want to overwhelm my stomach," I answered. And if I'm being honest, I'd feel extremely guilty if I gorged myself on Capitol delicacies while my family was home going hungry.

"Oh yeah, that makes sense," he chuckled. When I didn't say anything else, he took that as a sign to keep talking. "My brothers would be going nuts over this stuff."

I furrowed my brows. "You're the mayor's son. Don't you eat all this stuff all the time?"

"Only on special occasions," Hector said.

I hummed in response and continued with my bread and cheese.

"So, do you have any siblings?" Hector asked.

Without thinking, I blurted out, "You talk a lot." I regretted it immediately, as he seemed to shrink into himself. "I'm sorry," I said hastily. "It's just that during the reaping, you came across as the silent type."

"I was scared out of my mind."

It was silent for a moment before I spoke. "I have a sister."

Thinking of Shae and my family reminded me that I shouldn't be talking to Hector like a friend. Eventually, he'll be my enemy, my openet. I should be putting a wall up. Not making small talk with someone who would be trying to kill me in a week.

I stood to excuse myself just as the door to the compartment slid open. Three people walked in, and I recognized them as some of the Victors of 4. Everybody knew of them. Every year at school, after the games, we'd have a lesson on the newest Victor. The lessons lasted a week, but if the winner was from our district, then it stretched into two weeks.

There was Clay Ledger, tan and tall. He won almost a decade ago. Apparently, he killed two opponents at the same time by bashing their heads together. People say he's the king of kindness, though.

Then Midori Hall, with her pretty dark skin and romantic brown eyes. She's one of the most desired women in Panem. She's also deadly; in her games, she hid up in the trees and dropped down on her enemies to deliver the killing blow. Since she won, she's been acting as a nature activist.

And the last one, Finnick Odair. He's by far the most famous. He won his games at fourteen, the youngest in the history of the games. Since then, he's been dubbed the heartthrob of the Capitol. All the women want him, young and old. He's got the typical beach guy handsome thing going for him–sandy blonde hair and sea green eyes. Like the beach personified. Don't let that fool you, though. There's a reason he's a victor.

"I'm Midori." The dark haired woman introduces herself. Her voice was soft but held an air of firmness. She was also taller than I imagined. "This is Clay, and-"

"Pretty boy doesn't need an introduction," Clay teases. He shakes Finnick's shoulder playfully. The grin the older victor wears is almost sickening, but I can see it isn't fully genuine. That fact only strengthens my knowledge that, even if you came home a victor, that doesn't mean you won. You still have to live with what you did. With who you are now. "I'm sure they know who he is, Midori. We're old news compared to Finnick."

The younger man's lips tilt in a small smile, his dimples making an appearance. Then he shoves Clay off of him in a way I can't decide is good natured or not. "Thanks for that, Clay." Finnick says, taking a few steps to the side to ensure he wasn't jostled again.

I look on and wonder how they can act so casually. How can they act like they're in such good spirits? Maybe they're not, and I'm already seeing everything as fake, as a threat.

Clay offered a smile at Hector and me and moved to take a seat at the head of the table. "Sorry to get right down to business, but we haven't got a lot of time."

Midori stood behind him. There were rumors that they were together, but they've never gone public with it. "First things first, are there any special skills you have that we should be aware of?"

"I was trained at the academy," Hector said. "I was pretty good with hand-to-hand combat."

"Good," Clay nodded.

"What about you?" Midori asked me.

"Not anything really," I said sheepishly. "I guess I'm good with throwing knives. My dad taught me."

"Okay, that's good," Clay said. "You're both very promising."

Finnick nods and finally decides to contribute to the discussion. "The other tributes will be just as good, if not better, than you, though. So be sure to take full advantage of the training days offered to you."

"Yes," Clay agrees. "The few days that tributes are allowed to train will give you vital chances to practice your skills and give you a higher chance of winning."

"Have you seen much of the other tributes?" Hector asks, still nursing a bowl of some Capitol dish.

Midori sighed and claimed the chair to the right of Clay's. "We reviewed the reaping footage earlier, and so far, one and two are looking the strongest." No surprise there. Districts one and two almost always produce the best tributes. "Six and five also look good, but none of the others stood out."

"You got all that information from watching the reaping?" I chime in. Midori nods her head from her seat. "So the other mentors analyzed us?"

"Most definitely," Clay replies smoothly.

I thought of the other mentors watching me shuffle my way to the stage and mumble through the questions asked of me. It put an uneasy feeling in my stomach. "What do you think they have to say about us?" My eyes fixed on Finnick, directing the question to him. Somehow I knew he'd be honest.

"Hector looks strong, and he has the intimidation factor. The mentors will warn their tributes to be aware of his size and strength." Finnick pauses and purses his lips before moving onto me. "You? You're small, but you're lean, so you obviously have some mussels, but your appearance will make others underestimate you. You'll be an easy target for tributes."

Even though I asked and I knew he'd be brutally honest, I still couldn't help the deflation of my already hazardous mood. I nodded my head while biting my lip. My mind was ushering me to the blank oblivion that it craved. "Okay, any suggestions on how to fix that?"

"Well, for one, you could stop bleeding on the tablecloth." Finnick pointed out in a voice that sounded a bit shocked.

I suppressed a weary laugh as I looked down to see the growing red stain on the once white tablecloth. "Oh, great," I chuckle.

"Why are you bleeding?" Hector asked, alarmed.

"Doesn't matter." Finnick answered for me. "We need to get that bandaged, or else Sabine will lose her sequins." He moved and motioned for me to follow him.

"I can take care of it myself." I assured him, even though I was right behind him already. I longed for a moment alone just so I could get a grip on my nerves.

"You don't even know where the bathrooms are, do you?" He asked. I remained silent. "Yeah, I thought as much, so stop being modest."

I followed Finnick out of the dining car. My eyes roamed the broad expanse of his sweater-clad back, focusing on the pristine threads. I wanted to be sick, and only the reminder of the food I ate made me swallow it down. I wished my hands would stop shaking, but it was that or break down in front of Finnick Odair. That wasn't something I wanted to experience.

The man in question stopped abruptly, and I almost ran into him. My bloody hand shot up and caught me. When I hurriedly jumped back, there was a red stain on the pure white fabric of his sweater. I couldn't help but imagine the rest of my blood seeping out of some wound as I lay dying on the ground of the arena.

Finnick craned his head back to look at me. "Sorry," I muttered. "I got blood on your shirt."

His shoulders shrugged nonchalantly. "I have other ones."

The door to a bathroom whooshed open, and I found myself standing among marble countertop and glimmering gold-accented walls. I couldn't hold back my grimace as I took it all in. It seemed completely ridiculous to need a bathroom to look this over the top.

"Here, sit on the counter." Finnick instructed as he rummaged through a cabinet on the opposite wall.

I hopped up onto the vanity, leaning my back against the smooth mirror. As I waited, I held my hands together to control the shaking.

"You don't have to do this for me." I said as Finnick held a cloth under the water faucet. "I know how to bandage a small wound."

"My job is to help you, Lyssa." He stated, taking my hand and whipping away the dried blood crusting on my palm. "Besides, you're going to want to save as much of this as you can for the arena."

I laughed humorlessly. "Thanks for the advice, mentor."

Finnick looked at me with a severe expression. "I'm serious. It's going to be brutal in there." His face was a mask of grim understanding. I should be taking his words seriously, but all I can think about is how my damn hands are still shaking. How Shae is probably laying in my bed right now, just as worried as I am. How the chances of me surviving are incredibly slim.

I shut my eyes and rested my head on the mirror. I could feel tension pounding at my skull.

The sound of a package being ripped open met my ears, and I soon felt the soft touch of gauze being placed over the cuts. "I'm going to die in the arena." I announce faintly.

"You will die if you go in thinking like that." He promised, finishing up with putting the bandage on my hand. "If you'll get over this 'I'm doomed' attitude, I'll help you." I met his fierce eyes, but I thought I saw a sadness lurking in them that seemed too genuine to be fake.

"How are you going to make sure I survive?" I asked, leaning closer to him off the sink. "I'm not any different from the other tributes, and like you said, they're probably better than me anyway." I couldn't meet his eyes. I couldn't look at them and risk seeing the same hope and faith I saw in my family's faces.

"You have such little confidence in yourself," Finnick scoffed. He'd finished dressing my cuts, but he didn't back away. "You said your father taught you how to use throwing knives, right?" I nodded. "Build on that skill during training, then. And I'll help you learn how to make the Capitol like you so you'll get sponsors."

I hopped off the sink, my hand now taken care of, but my mood did not improve even with Finnick's uplifting words. "It's not going to be that easy." I grumbled under my breath.

Finnick walked out of the bathroom and waited outside the door for me. "It won't be," he agreed. "But don't you think you owe it to your family to at least try?"

"You're a lot different than I thought you'd be." I find myself saying.

"Oh," he chuckles.

I nod. "Yeah, I think I would've liked to meet you under different circumstances."

He smiles, and it's like a light is being shone down on him from above. "How would you have liked to meet?"

"Maybe at the market," I shrug.

He laughs as we turn a corner. "That would've been great," he agrees. "I would have been busy looking at the plants."

"And me being me, would have run into you because I never look where I'm going, truthfully." I built onto his little scenario.

"I would have rushed to help you up because that's just the gentleman in me. We would have introduced ourselves, and I'd offer to carry your bags home for you as an apology," he continued.

I turn my head so I can see him, and he's still smiling. His eyes still held that strange sadness behind them, though. It confused me some, I'd always had the impression that Finnick loved everything to do with the games. But he didn't seem to be too happy at the moment.

"That would have been a lot nicer than this." I mumble in conclusion.

━

My designated bedroom is impressive. The lush carpet and warm colored walls were surly designed to put one at ease. It has the opposite effect on me. I resent the comfort I have at the tips of my fingers because it reminds me that my family is at home. That they aren't here to share in this luxury with me.

The ceiling I stare at is becoming increasingly more boring with every passing minute. I've been laying in the lavish bed for hours now. Tossing and turning under the duvet, which in normal circumstances, I'd be overjoyed to be covered up with. I have too many thoughts racing through my mind to even contemplate sleep. I get tired of the restlessness, so I slip out of bed. I opened the door as quietly as I could. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to wander around or not.

I have no destination in mind as I find myself in the dining car once again. The table is bare now. The tablecloth with my blood stained on it and the extravagant meal are now gone.

Finding nothing of interest in this room, I move on. I find my way to the last compartment on the train. It's a lounge area with a big circle couch along the back wall.

I don't know how long I sat there by myself. I could've spent hours watching the twisting shadows pass by the train window. I imagined Shae crawling into bed with my parents, seeking comfort in their embrace since I wasn't there. It eased my troubled watered thoughts to picture her snuggled up between them. I found solace in the fact that they all had each other.

I thought about all the things I didn't get a chance to say to them. The goodbyes I would have said and promises I would have made. My mother always said that I had this talent for disappearing into my own head. I've always been grateful for this gift, for the ability to help myself when nothing else could. Right now, it came in really handy. Instead of thinking of how I might very well die, I think about other things to keep my mind off of it. I don't want to think about how I'll react once I actually let it dawn on me.

"Couldn't sleep?" Hurtling headlong into my messy thoughts, I hadn't even heard the door slide open. But there was Finnick standing in the moonlight with rumpled clothes and bedhead.

My heart raced for a split second at the sudden sound of his voice, but I let out my startled breath and relaxed back into the cushions.

"I could ask you the same thing." I responded, eyeing him cautiously as he took a seat next to me. His eyes looked tired, and there were distinct purple bags beginning underneath. I couldn't help but think he looked slightly striking like this. Loose clothes and sharp features made soft in the silver glow of the moonlight.

"I know it won't help," he spoke slowly. "But you really shouldn't stay up. You're going to want to rest as much as you can. Sleep is hard to come by once you're in the arena."

I didn't respond right away; I just kept gazing out the window. My hands had stopped trembling hours before, but my thumb kept rubbing across the bandage that was resting on my palm. I thought back to what Finnick had said when we left the bathroom.

"I haven't given up," I swore. He turned closer toward me as I took a deep breath. "You said I have no confidence in myself; well, you're right. I don't know how to do the things you have to do if you want to survive in there." I took another shaky inhale and clasped my hands together to stop their movement. "But I don't want my parents to lose their daughter. I don't want my sister to be alone."

Finnick leaned forward on his elbows. "I swear to you, Lyssa, I will help you as best I can. But you have to promise me you won't let go."

"Let go of what?" I questioned.

He caught my gaze with his wild ocean eyes. "Of that storm inside you. The storm that's keeping you connected to your home and family. That storm will keep you alive."

"How can you be so sure, so confident in me? You don't even know me." I wondered. I tucked my legs under me, trying to shrink in on myself once more. Everything felt so raw and real at the moment. Maybe it was because it was the dead of night, and I was tired. I got the feeling that either one of us could say anything right now and it'd be the honest truth.

That caught me off guard. I'd never been a very trusting person, but I tried not to judge a person until I could make an honest impression of them. I was ashamed to admit, though, that I'd already judged Finnick Odair the moment I watched him in his games. Then he worked his way through almost every woman in the Capitol the moment he turned sixteen, and that only solidified my impression of him. I insisted that if I were reaped, I would never act like that. Sitting on this train with him, though, made it hard to condemn him for anything.

Finnick leaned back to rest his head on the sofa's plushness. I didn't know why, but I was glad it was him who found me. Anyone else, and I'd be completely on edge. "Because you're my tribute. I want you to have your best chance at victory." He stops himself from saying anything further. His short response hides a deeper meaning that I can't identify right now. But I have the feeling that it's true concern, and it's at that moment that I'm faced with the fact that Finnick is nothing like the Capitol act he disguises himself as.

"You put on a good show, you know," I say carefully. His face tenses for a moment, and then he hesitantly laughs as if he just caught on to what I meant.

"Well, I have been told my acting skills are something to be craved after." He jokes, and I think I glimpsed a wink through the darkness.

"You're a lot kinder than I thought you'd be," I admitted.

He smiles softly. It makes his already handsome face even more enthralling. Even though I've agreed to give it my all, I still have the urge to apologize for the obvious fool I'm going to make of myself in the arena. I want to apologize for being clueless and for the fact that I have no idea what I'm doing.

I want to apologize for the disappointment I might be.

"It's getting late. You should try to sleep." He pushes himself up and off the couch. "Goodnight." I look up to meet his gaze, and he's smiling at me. I decided that I like it when he smiles at me. I don't pause to think why. He pads away back to his room, leaving me in the dark by myself.

Later, as I twist under the covers again, my thoughts are filled with something other than my death looming over me.

God, I feel so bad for the things I'm gonna put them through. But any who as always, I hope you're enjoying and please feel free to comment and reblog. <3

﹙taglist﹚@iammirrorball @lilydoeswrite @aoi-targaryen

[cottondo]

NEGAN SMITH X READER // fluff |

IN THE GARDEN

[ TWD ] s9 themed

You went outside to the garden, and peered around for a familiar face.

Today, it was warm; the sun was out, and it was promising good growth for any crops throughout the day.

Everybody you ran into seemed to be in a good mood, for the most part. After all, mostly all of Alexandria was getting ready for a small get together tonight. It was just something the council had planned on for folk to hopefully brighten things up around there. You’ve all been through enough.

Your target was acquired; You spot a blue shirted man embedded within the gardening grounds. Negan was crouched down, picking out weeds and raking up any overgrowth. With his back turned to your front, you felt the curl of your lips lifting a sneaky thought into your mind.

Wouldn’t it be fun to just mess with him a little bit?

You trot your way up behind him, sneaking low to the ground, crouching behind a wheelbarrow. Slowly, you move closer, like a tiger after its prey. He didn’t make any notion that he saw or heard you yet, so this was definitely going to play out nicely.

Without a second thought, your body springs forward with the help of your back foot. You launch yourself onto his back and loop your arms around his upper shoulders and neck. His initial instinct would normally be to whip an intruder of space off of him— so that's exactly what he did.

"Shit!" He yelled, and you landed right on the grassy ground with a heavy thud. Laughter escapes your chest as you close your eyes up at the blue sky. A few passing others caught a glance at the two of you, and briefly ignored it, only giving off furrowed looks in return. Negan stares down at you with a mixture of confusion, and uneasiness. He should have known by now that he wasn’t safe behind these walls, and not just by the walkers.

"Y/N, what the hell. You out here trying to get me in trouble?" He asks, standing back to his full height. More laughter fits escape as you look up to his figure towering over your own. "Maybe."

The grass was warm, but you sat up from it anyway, dusting off any dirt or weeds from your pants.

He cracks a soft smile and looks around the area for signs of life. Nobody else had been passing through there now, so he ignores his garden duties for the moment. Negan leans against his shovel handle and shakes his head. "Well, you were close."

Your hands place on your hips and a smile takes over. "I bet I was."

"What are you doing out here anyway? Don't you have dead prick duty?" He asks. That's just another word for walkers. Your shoulder raises and drops. "If you'd been paying attention, you'd know I already finished my shift for the morning. I go back later tonight to keep guard again."

Subtly, he blinks his irritation at you.

"Sorry that I don't keep my eyes on you twenty four seven." He gives me a look. You ignore it.

"Keeping Michonne, and all the others here safe, huh?" Negan had leaned a little closer to you now, keeping his voice low. You raise your head slightly, faltering the smile you were wearing, a bit. "I'm keeping myself safe. We live here too, don't we?"

Negan makes a face. "We're prisoners. Not members of their happy little mountain club."

"That may be partially true, but when we get overrun, and they have to abort home, guess where we're still going to be?" You tilt my head. "In that prison."

Negan shakes his head at me. I frown.

"Wrong. They're stupid enough to let us free and go with them. It's part of their code, or something." He says, glancing around. “Then we’re the ones they use for bait.”

"Yeah- - they're stupid enough to let you free." A softer smirk dances across your lips now. His eyebrow raises in question. You shrug innocently, as well as you could anyway.

His quick hand reaches out to snatch your arm, but you dodge his playful grab just in time. "Gotta be quicker than that." Your words sneer at him.

Trotting over to the dirt path, away from the garden, you decide to stand there to use as a safe zone. He wasn't allowed to leave the garden grounds on duty, and if he's seen talking with anyone, he'll just get yelled at for it.

Negan glances around the area once again before letting his shovel drop, and take a few steps towards your lingering figure. Your eyes widen and you feel yourself backing up a few steps. "Don't be dumb."

Negan smiles all the same, though. He moves quick, and you don't catch on until it was too late. Two arms wrap around your torso and pull your frame into him. You can't help but laugh through the terror, as Negan scoops you up in a playful manner. "What's that about not being dumb?" He asks in your ear. His stubble brushes against your skin, and your instincts can’t help but to cringe at the sharp prickles against you.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry." Your voice wobbles through more laughter. Negan carries your figure back to the garden grounds, away from the street, and your eyes land on the large pile of sloppy wet dirt he's been digging up from the ground. For some reason, he was bringing you closer to it.

Your body starts to squirm uncomfortably in his hold, and you had a sick feeling you knew what he was going to do. Your lips tug to a frown, warily. "No, no, no, wait, these pants are clean for once!" It's not like it really mattered during an apocalypse, but some things were still nice to treat with respect. 

He chuckles deeply, bringing you closer to the messy pile, completely ignoring the calls of distress you make. You struggle through his grasp, kicking your feet, and wiggling your body.

"Negan, don't you dare!" You tried to stay sounding stern, but it was no use. He really didn’t take it seriously.

"Sorry, firecracker." He gives you that wicked smile you always liked a little too much, just before loosening his grip on your struggling figure. Your hands grasp onto him with quick reflexes, not allowing him to let your figure go yet.

You refuse to go down in some mud.

"No way! You're going down with me if you let me go," Your warning had little, if any, effect on him. "No I'm not." His voice was discomforted while trying to hold your dead weighting. As his grip loosens, your fingers tug on his shirt and bring him down to the ground right along with you. You warned him.

Your backside hits the pile in a splat, Negan falling right beside you. It actually got a laugh out of him— followed along with a disappointed groan now that the fall set in to his nerves.

"Yes you are." You say through a grin.

"Shit," He lays his head down and sighs heavily in defeat.

Laughter escapes your chest, giving his shoulder a hard smack. "Now look what you did." You laugh harder, rolling to the side.

Negan sits up and brushes himself off. You catch him chuckling as he looks down at your giggling frame. "Worth it."

[aita-blorbos]

WIBTA for refusing to help my brother out of a tight spot?

I dunno why I'm even asking you people this, but my kids convinced me, and we somehow managed to get lucky and have good internet out here in the middle of nowhere for a bit before we get some sleep, so here goes.

Me (50s, M) and my brother (same age) have been kinda distant since high school- long story, old arguments, sorta relevant but I'll get to that. The most recent clash we had was over this house. See, he was the one who had it built, years and years ago, and his name is the one that's on the deed. At the same time, there was an accident sorta shortly after the house was built, and he disappeared.

Meanwhile, I'd been dealing with some tough times I'd really rather not get into detail about, and he'd called me up there right about the time of the accident. After the house was empty, I just sorta…stayed there. The folks in town didn't seem to know the difference between me and my brother, which was kinda freaky, but not really too much- we used to pretend to be each other as kids, we looked so alike. It was a bit of a silver lining to the situation, that I was able to avoid the questioning about what happened to "me" and fall off the radar from my own issues, and all that.

It's been a few decades since then, and I'd spent most of that time trying to find him and the rest of it keeping the house from being sold off. I finally managed to find my brother and get him home, but one of the first things he did was punch me, and he told me to be ready to leave by the end of the summer! He was actually dredging up our age-old argument the moment he saw me again, when all I'd wanted was a "thank you!" Ungrateful of him, frankly.

Anyway, that was a few weeks ago, more or less. Maybe a month or two. (Time lost all meaning when this deranged dorito cracked open the sky like an egg.) Trying to be a hero, my brother got captured and turned into a golden statue to be the dorito's trophy shortly after the sky cracked open, and the kids wanna rally everybody who hasn't been caught and turned to stone yet to go save him. If they have their way, (which they might, given how everyone else seems to agree with them,) we'll be leaving at whatever counts as "dawn." I think the idea's a load of shmebulock and we oughta all just hunker down for as long as we can, but I'm being outnumbered. WIBTA for trying to push the issue?

Just so we're clear, though, between me and him, I'm not always "the bad twin."