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natromanxoff · 2 years

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Why the young roll in to see rock’s pied pipers

By JAMES GREEN

THEY are the phenomenon of our time. There is nothing within traditional showbusiness that can match the Pied Piper lure of open-air rock and pop concerts.

For a whole new young generation they are the look and sound of 'eighties entertainment, and any reservations were shattered exactly one year ago today by Bob Geldof's global Live Aid spectacular at Wembley Stadium.

And the bandwagon rolls on.

On Friday, and again last night, rock showman Freddie Mercury and Queen, with Status Quo on the bill, drew 72,000 ecstatic fans both evenings to a stadium more noted forthe magic of Kenny Dalglish or Gary Lineker.

COLOUR

A week ago, 41-year-old Rod Stewart and The Faces played for 62,000 on the same turf, and in June 72,000 (the crowd limit) attended an emotional farewell gig for Wham!

I found the age range interesting. The kids turned out for Wham! Rod Stewart's following was in the 20 to 30 bracket, and Queen appealed from the kids to wrinklies.

If you have never seen a big arena rock show, it is a revelation to emerge on the Wembley terracing and look down on the carnival antics of the mass of humanity occupying the pitch.

It is a blaze of colour. There are T-shirts, golf umbrellas, shorts, anything goes fashions, long and mini skirts, scarves, the odd shirtless wonder, and the yellow jackets of stewards. You could be a health risk in suit and tie.

Some jig and dance. Others punch the sky in response to the thudding beat. And still more are singing. They all seemto know the words.

That, coupled with the sound spewing from enormous speakers — like a jet taking off from nearby Heathrow — makes a football crowd roar a mere whisper.

But while Wembley maybe the prime venue, there are many more, and bigger, around the country. When Queen are at Knebworth Park on August 9, around 120,000 are expected.

There were 60,000 recently for rock at Ibrox Park, and 150.000 when Bob Dylan sang at Blackbushe.

The Queen concerts, like most others, sold out almost overnight. There were 500,000 applications for Wembley; the ticket queue at Newcastle was longer than when the "Magpies" were in the Cup Final; and Manchester experienced a similar rush.

Tickets cost one price of £14.50 or £15 and there are no reserved seats. You can stand out front with the majority or find a seat under cover.

So what has produced the phenomenon?

I put that question to two leading British promoters Harvey Goldsmith, 40, who presented Queen and Derek Block, who had the Rod Stewart show.

“First,” said Harvey Goldsmith, “the artists (…) are always a worldwide attraction.

“We have a generation that wants to be involved and be part of ‘the event’. There is a sense of camaraderie and (…) having a day out.

“The fans are there to (…) themselves and they behave very well. They want to see the star band, have a good time and circulate among thousands of others, and share in a special occasion.

“The real magic comes as the sun and light go and the arena darkens. Then you can feel the atmosphere.”

Derek Block says: “These concerts have become possible because of the new technology. They are an event and the public walk around afterwards wearing a T-shirt announcing that they were there.

"In Britain it started 20 years ago with the Bob Dylan Isle of Wight festival. It was unsophisticated and there were no large TV screens.

“It was a time of flower power and anti Vietnam war feelings, and what we had was a young generation expressing themselves. They didn't want to have chicken in a basket and watch cabaret like their parents.

"I remember in the early days discussing with Harvey whether there was a hippie feel in Britain. Would they sit in a field or puddles when they couldn't hear much and the star was a tiny distant dot?

CRUSH

"Thanks to technology and giant TV screens that has changed. But we take a chance with the weather."

Today mounting such a show is a mind boggling operation. This is Andy Zwek, production manager for the Queen and Stewart concerts:

"For six days this week, I had 100 men working on day and night shifts preparing the stage and all the other things. There were 15 trailer loads of steel for the scaffolding.

"The stage measures 120 ft, that's on the ‘D’ behind one goal, there are 120 speakers, a 30ft by 20ft starvision screen has a huge water reservoir to counter balance the weight, and the grass is covered by foam rubber, then 2,000 sheets of plyboard, and on top of that is a plastic surface.

"There are over eight miles of cable, and without doing my sums, the equipment has got to cost over £1 million.

"A lot of fans like to crush together in front of the stage, and with the closeness and excitement they get dehydrated.

“In America they cool them down with a hose but we've given that up. We've taken a tip from Mexico and we've had thousands of bags of water prepared.

DEMAND

"They are handed out by our team with paper cups and take some of the emotion out. It's nice that in seven years behaviour has been great. I haven't seen a sign of blood or a fight."

What about costs?

“We have nearly 700 general and backstage security men on duty," says Goldsmith. "Simply producing the two Wembley concerts, leaving aside artists' fees, the bill is £750,000.

“Do your sums right and it can be profitable. But being one per cent out in your calculations is an expensive mistake. Planning starts seven months ahead and we know almost immediately if we have a sell-out and a financial success.”

Block adds: “There are two reasons we go into the open air — the demand for tickets based on drawing power, and the basic costs. If we went into the largest indoor centres then ticket prices would have to be higher.

"Rod's production cost, including band fees, was around £700.000. Bruce Springsteen did three shows at the stadium last year, not for my company, and he would have been left looking at 800,000 to 1 million dollars for each performance.

"What we are doing is putting on a more costly show than a big West End musical, and there are few British promoters capable of handling the deal.

"It's a bit like putting on England v Scotland at Wembley.”

There are only some 20 stars or bands who can justify the operation. Goldsmith names some… " Dylan, Bowie, The Stones, Queen, Police, Madonna, Neil Diamond, Dire Straits, and Michael Jackson."

Barbra Streisand? "If she would do it, she could be the biggest of the lot."

Leaving Derek Block with the last word. "We've got to get bigger and better. People will become more discerning and must not leave disappointed.

HEROES

“Pop music goes in cycle of about eight years, with the fan starting at the age of (…) and going on to 19. It is (…) generation which is (…) reflected.

“In a year to 18 months (…) shall reach the end of (…) present cycle and the (…) batch of teenagers will (…) today’s stars as old hat (…) one like Paul Young (…) become the new Rod Stewart (…).

“So it carries on. (…) generation make (…) heroes with some (…) acts like Dylan (…) Springsteen lasting forever (…).”

[Photo caption: The mercurial talent of Queen, left, and, above, the crowd laps up the beat.]

#queen #queen band #queen scans #magazine’s title is unknown #harvey goldsmith

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itadorisgf · 3 years

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AAAAAAAA! CONGRATS ON THE MILESTONE I’M SO PROUD OF YOU AND YOU DESERVE EVERY BIT BECAUSE YOUR WRITING IS WONDERFUL! ✨💛 for a tulip/date night(?) I was thinking about a road trip date with Gojo Satoru? Like, it might be unrealistic since 1. He’s probably really busy, huh? 2. I don’t know if he can even swap places to drive because blindfold, and even his sunglasses were wack (Gege said something about ‘em somewhere). But the of dorking out during sightseeing and blasting tunes in the car with the fun-loving teacher is just very appealing to me. Also congrats again!! qwq

— gojo satoru + road trip

⤷ anonymous asked: AAAAAAAA! CONGRATS ON THE MILESTONE I’M SO PROUD OF YOU AND YOU DESERVE EVERY BIT BECAUSE YOUR WRITING IS WONDERFUL! ✨💛 for a tulip/date night(?) I was thinking about a road trip date with Gojo Satoru? Like, it might be unrealistic since 1. He’s probably really busy, huh? 2. I don’t know if he can even swap places to drive because blindfold, and even his sunglasses were wack (Gege said something about ‘em somewhere). But the of dorking out during sightseeing and blasting tunes in the car with the fun-loving teacher is just very appealing to me. Also congrats again!! qwq

note: thank you so so much for the kind words!

ft. gojo satoru

warning: gn!reader, fluff, gojo being gojo (aka an insufferable but loveable menace)

⤷ the flower shop

It’s incredibly rare for Gojo to get any time off from work. He’s always needed here or there —for “difficult” missions, which really aren’t all that difficult, or boring obligatory clan meetings — that he doesn’t have much free time. But Gojo somehow manages to weasel his way out of some commitments, which might earn him a lecture from some higher-ups later, and proudly proclaims that you’re going on a road trip together.

It’s not that you’re not excited at the prospect of spending time with Gojo, but a little heads up would have been appreciated. But Gojo is Gojo and he exits your shared bedroom with a grin and informs you that you have an hour to gather all the stuff you need before closing the door shut behind him. The dumbass barely gives you any details of where you are going so you tear through your room, searching for whatever you think you’ll need for a day trip.

It actually doesn’t take you too much time to pack everything you think you’ll need, but you still scowl at Gojo when you exit your shared bedroom to see him lounging with his legs spread out across the couch. He jumps up the moment he sees you with the complaint of you taking too long on his tongue. You just elbow him in the chest and roll your eyes when it doesn’t connect since Gojo turned on his infinity before you could actually hit him.

Gojo takes the bag you’ve packed from your hand and you’re quick to snatch the car keys off the counter before the two of you exit your home. You may love Gojo immensely, but you’d be damned if you let him drive. You’re not even sure if he has a proper license. With the way he drives, speeding and swerving, you wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t.

Gojo pouts when he realizes you’re going to be the one driving, but gets in the passenger seat regardless. Once you’re all buckled up, you flip your palm up for Gojo to entwine your fingers together. Sometimes he likes to fiddle with your fingers or to compare your hand sizes instead of actually holding your hand.

He always pretends to be astonished that his hand is bigger than yours despite doing the same thing every single time he rides in the passenger seat. You just roll your eyes in fond amusement.

You let Gojo control the music you listen to. He queues up a lot of upbeat pop songs and throwbacks that the two of you can belt out together. He’ll turn up the volume obnoxiously loud and sing as loudly as he can, so his voice won’t be drowned out by the music. His voice is actually not bad, so sometimes you’ll stop singing along to the lyrics just so you can devote your attention to listening to him, eyes darting to the side every so often to get a glimpse of him from the corner of your eyes. When he feels your eyes on him, Gojo makes a whole performance out of his singing, going so far as to use your hand as a pretend microphone before littering kisses all over the back of it.

Although Gojo didn’t give you any details of where you’re going before getting in the car, he takes charge and directs you when to switch lanes and when to turn as you drive. Sometimes, though you believe he’s doing it purposefully, he’ll give you a direction a second too late, forcing you to find your way back to where you were before so you can resume the path Gojo has laid out in his mind.

You haven’t been driving for too long when Gojo tells you to exit the freeway and park in a lot that he points out to you. Looking around when you exit the vehicle, you’re unfamiliar with your surroundings. When your eyes land on Gojo, it takes all of your restraint to not facepalm.

“Ta-da!” His aggressive jazz hands would be much more embarrassing if there were more people around to witness it. He gives you a dazzling smile, tilting his head down slightly to look at you over his sunglasses. “Let’s go explore!”

With that comment, Gojo grabs your hand, barely giving you enough time to make sure your car is locked and drags you off in the direction he’s chosen. You guys aimlessly wander around, pulling one another into random shops that catch your interest. Of course, Gojo is pulling you into bakeries and shops that are selling sweets, insistent that he needs to try them. He has you taste-test them with him, buying all the treats that you both enjoy.

You pull him in the direction of some shops that sell cute touristy things, thinking that it would be nice to bring something back for his students. Gojo beams when you suggest that, swooping down to plant a kiss on your lips, and agrees that as a great sensei, it was his duty to get his cute little students something. So you guys peruse around until you find something that you both think his students would appreciate.

After walking around for so long, you’ve worked up an appetite. Gojo too, since right when you’re about to open your mouth to suggest that you find someplace to eat, he complains out loud that he’s hungry. You guys choose to eat at a cafe you spotted a while back. Once seated, you’re both quick to order your meal. While waiting, Gojo passes the time by playing footsie with you, despite the fact you’re full-grown adults. Thanks to his stupidly long limbs, he wins, much to his glee and much to your disappointment.

When your order arrives, you both dig in. Gojo swipes some food off of your plate when he thinks you’re not paying attention. You’re not that unaware so when you catch him red-handed, he lets you taste some of his food as well. Gojo pays for the bill and throws his arm around your frame when you exit the cafe.

You’re much more subdued than you were previously, stuffed full of delicious food. A little sleepy now, you give in and hand the keys over to Gojo so he can drive. You curl up in the passenger seat, leaning over the console to get closer to Gojo. He lowers the volume of the music and entwines your fingers together as you doze off for a bit.

The ride is much more smooth than it normally is. Gojo tries his best to be extra cautious when driving since he doesn’t want to jostle you around too much when you’re resting.

When you open your eyes again, the sun is much lower in the sky and when you look out the window, you realize you’re far out from the city.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” You snuggle back into the seat, squeezing Gojo’s hand that’s in yours.

“Where are we going, Satoru?” You’re still blinking the grogginess away as you turn your head to look at Gojo. He’s always been unfairly gorgeous, but in this light, Gojo looks positively ethereal. You don’t say it out loud, though. You’re not trying to give the man a bigger head than he already has. But by the grin he shoots your way, you have a feeling he already has an idea of what you’re thinking about.

“Somewhere.” You roll your eyes at your boyfriend’s purposeful vagueness.

“Mhm, okay. Wake me up when we get there.” You close your eyes once more, a faint smile on your lips when you feel Gojo press his lips to the back of your hand.

You’re roused from your nap by Gojo gently shaking your shoulder. The car is parked now, your car door ajar with Gojo standing over your still seated body. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty.” He laughs much too loud when you sleepily pout at him.

“Aw, does my baby want me to carry them?” Gojo teases. He’s surprised when you actually nod your head and lift your arms up. You must have been sleepier than he thought. His grin widens as he swoops down to scoop you up in his arms, openly cooing when you snuggle your head against his chest.

You don’t know how long Gojo’s been walking for when he pretends to drop you, causing you to yelp. “Lost my grip,” he explains with a disingenuous smile when you crane your head to look up at him. Before you can huff and complain that he’s such a shithead sometimes, he happily exclaims: “We’re here now!”

He helps you ease down onto your feet, wrapping his arms around you from behind and tucking his head into your neck as you look around to figure out where exactly “here” is. You quietly gasp, eyes widening in awe, as you soak in your surroundings. You’re far away from the city in someplace along the coast. The sunset beautifully illuminates the waves crashing below you, setting the sky ablaze with a melody of warm and vibrant colors.

When you tilt your head to look at Gojo, he’s already observing your profile. His sunglasses rest low on the bridge of his nose, granting you a clear view of his crystal blue eyes. His smile is not as wide as it usually is, it’s a bit softer, a bit more genuine.

“You like it?” He squeezes his arms tighter around your middle, nuzzling his cheek against yours.

“I love it, Satoru. It’s beautiful,” you assure him, awkwardly tilting your head so you can press a kiss to his skin. You place your hands over his own, tangling your fingers together. You stand like that for a while, enjoying the view until the sun inevitably dips below the horizon.

As you’re driving home, you sneak a glance at your boyfriend. His long limbs are bent at awkward angles as it’s now his turn to rest his eyes as you drive the two of you home. Your lip curves up into a fond smile. You won’t lie and say that it isn’t difficult dating a man like Gojo Satoru, but moments like these make it all worth it.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x gender neutral reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #celeste.scribs #celeste.adores #adoring.gojo #flower.shop: tulips.#flower.shop

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donaidk · 3 years

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Marcus Armstrong - Almost Home I.

In advance: This is getting a Part 2 for sure. I don’t want to leave it here, but at the same time I felt like it would be really long if I left it in one piece. Turns out I have a whole lot of inspiration for Marcus fics right now. 😂 I also wanna let everyone, who’s waiting for their request, know that uni is starting next week for me. It means less free time, but I will make sure to finish every one of them in the next week or so, and then focus on all the series I started. There’s gonna be slower updates to them, but I’ll make sore to have one or two per week at least. Hopefully they won’t try to kill us in the starting weeks and I will finish up the Lando one so I could start posting that every week and just add some parts from the others to the queue 😊

Thank you Anon for requesting this one though, and sorry for the wait. Hope you will enjoy it and as it’s almost the next day here, have a really happy start to your Friday everyone 🧡

Kind of Taglist: @mickschumcher, @art-gp

Title Song | Masterlist | Taglist/Queue | Request

With the Australian GP knocking on the door Melbourne filled up with tourists and fans even more than usual. The first time I got to witness it in 2017 was actually scary in a way for someone who didn’t know the city well yet. Getting from one part of the city to another was a hard task already, and all the shouting and crazy fans weren’t of much help when I tried to get some usable info out of them so I could finally get to my destination and get off the streets. It almost held me back from choosing Melbourne’s university, but I had to remind myself that it was just once a year and I shouldn't give up my plans because of it. Melbourne was beautiful and their schools were highly rated, giving me everything for a stable future. Luckily I was never disappointed by my choices as it was easy to get used to the life here and I even found some new friends who helped me every time I felt homesick. It wasn’t the worst usually, as I was truly content with how my life was going, but sometimes it just hit me out of nowhere and in those moments they were always there for me.

It was now the third year when we lived through the race weekend, meaning we finally had a working schedule with which we still followed our usual plans but stayed out of the bigger crowds. Although we were in the middle of the semester we always found time to enjoy the still warm weather and spend most of our free time outside. Usually our choice was the beach for the afternoons as even though it was packed until noon, the tourists never stayed for long. We usually arrived in the late afternoon and stayed well after the sun went down, and the temperature went down a little finally. The water usually stayed comfortable until later in the evening making it bearable for almost a whole 24 hours if you weren’t squeamish. Even if you were after spending a few weeks at the beach, everyone got used to it.

As soon as everyone finished with their lectures we got our things together and took the 5 minutes walk down to the beach. We had a favourite spot which was luckily never taken when we got down there. For a few minutes we just sat down, talking about our weeks. I shared a dorm room with two other girls, but we had a few friends who had their own apartments or lived with their family a bit farther away from our university. We usually had one or two days every week to catch up with them as in between lectures we were either too tired or didn’t have the time to do so. But most of the afternoons were ours fully and we used it the best we could to relax but still use that time to make memories for the few years we’re spending together. We could say it’s gonna stay the same after we graduate but everyone knew we would move to different countries as soon as we weren’t connected to Australia. Even I planned to go home, although I enjoyed living here and getting to be independent without my family behind my back.

“ Are you coming? ” One of the girls asked me, as they were already walking down to the water, while I was still standing around our towels with my phone in my hand. I was in the middle debating which sunset photo I should post from my gallery, but her voice made me look up.

“ Just a second. I’ll catch up. ” I smiled at her before looking back down at my screen. In the end my finger finally tapped the posting button and I pushed it aside while I got the sundress off that was on over my bikini.

Right before I would have ran after the girls, the device was back in my hands so I could check that the picture uploaded without a problem. A smile got on my face when I saw a reaction from one of my family members but as soon as it showed the whole list of the people who looked at my story, it faded away. For the past few months whenever I posted something he was always there in the first few seconds or at least minutes. I couldn’t understand what changed that he showed up in my life again, but I didn't really want to give him space in my thoughts either. It has been almost 4 years since we last talked and could call each other best friends, but I wasn’t about to take the first step and message him after he forgot about me until now. I just dropped my phone back into my bag, closing it and then caught up with my friends so they could make me forget about him again.

We spent quite some time in the water, swimming a few laps back and forth before just standing around and enjoying the last rays of sunshine while we chatted away. My thoughts were already in a different direction thanks to all the different topics that came up between us. Sometimes it was harder to make me forget time and time again, but turns out today I only needed some distraction and everything was set for an enjoyable night. With the sun completely off the sky the temperature dropped quickly and it was getting a bit chilly for my liking in just a few minutes. When it was truly uncomfortable I gave up and walked back to the shore, sitting down on my own blanket and draping my towel around my shoulders. It immediately brought enough warmth over my body that I stopped shivering and could wait for them until they would get cold too. Until then I just went onto my phone to go through some posts of my friends. Sometimes I looked up to check on them just so they wouldn’t leave me out of something. One of those times I saw a person coming my way and although I didn’t mind too much attention to it, when he continued and there was no one else in my close proximity I felt like he might be coming to me. In the end I was right as he turned right towards me and then stopped just a few steps away from our blankets.

“ Never thought you would exchange our lovely and perfect red stars for ugly white ones. ” He spoke up and I could recognise the voice even though his face was almost unseeable thanks to him standing with his back towards the moon. My jaw dropped immediately and I felt like I grew roots into the ground as I couldn’t move my body. “ If you want me to fuck off, just tell me. It’s okay. I just thought we could maybe talk, and from the pictures I saw that you’re here. Hoped you didn’t go home yet so I could catch you and... ” He started rambling but I was quick to finally push myself up and hug him immediately. I always imagined our reunion with me being angry at him, but somehow I couldn’t get myself to feel that way now that he was standing right in front of me.

“ You idiot. ” I told him not leaving any space for questions and I could feel as he finally relaxed and hugged me back. “ The biggest in the whole world. ” I added with a sigh, closing my eyes as my brain started functioning again and I had an urge to kick his shin at least.

“ I can live with that. ” Marcus let out a laugh and I could feel as my heart jumped a little at the sound. It was something that always reminded me of our home and spending every possible second together. “ I’m sorry for disappearing. ” He let out a sigh, letting go of me only when we realised my wet bathing suit soaked his shirt, although even he didn’t care about it for too long.

“ What are you doing here? I thought F2 wasn't coming here. ” I asked him confused, knowing that we wouldn’t be in this situation if he traveled here for one of the races in the past two years. “ Not like I’m complaining, but I can hardly believe my own eyes and senses. ” I shook my head a little before looking up at him again. He changed, quite a bit since we last met and even though I saw pictures of him it was different in a face-to-face situation.

“ Ferrari invited a few of us so we could gather some experience. The speed I accepted the offer with might have raised some eyebrows. ” Marcus hid his face in his palm, making me chuckle as I could see the situation unfold in front of my eyes like I was there. “ Thought I would DM you and ask if you wanted to meet up maybe. But I realized it would be better offline. ” I had to roll my eyes at his first idea although I knew he wasn’t lying and it for sure went through his brain as a real possibility.

“ You’re lucky you didn’t. I would have blocked you forever I think. My plan was connecting my fist with your face if we ever meet again, right until you showed up here. ” I shook my head with a smile, as I wasn’t proud of what I wanted to do to him. “ I was really angry when you just stopped talking to me. I tried so hard to reach you, but it felt like you didn’t even exist anymore even though they were talking about you almost every week. ” I sighed, sitting back down and leaving enough space for him too.

“ Would have been deserved actually. ” His fingers scratched at the nape of his neck and I could see the tint of purple traveling up his neck. I watched him as he sat down, pulling his legs up and resting his arms onto them. “ I really am sorry. For a part everything got busy with all the training, races and studying, but at the same time I know damn well a message here and there should have been possible. I messed up, everything. ” His eyes shined even in the minimal light of the moon, and I could get myself to look away. Even feeling the burning stares on my back from my friends didn’t get me to turn around.

“ I won’t say that it’s okay, but I accept your apology. How could I not. ” I let out a breath that I realized was still stuck in me since the initial surprise took over my body. “ It feels like we didn’t even skip over like 3 years of each other’s life. Only difference is that you’re finally taller than me, but the baby face’s still there. ” My hand went up to his cheek to pat it gently like my grandma did for him all the time when he came over for lunch. He always hated it but knew that it was a gesture of love from her and a way to show Marcus that she considered him part of our family.

“ Yeah, I guess it’s going to stay forever. ” Marcus huffed, moving his head back a little to avoid my attack, although he failed miserably. “ I almost forgot, congrats for uni. I remember how hard you were studying to get in. Everyone home was ecstatic when I told them about it. ” His hand slapped his forehead, making me laugh with his expression at the slight stinging he caused himself.

“ Thank you, but it’s nothing compared to your second place last year. ” I shrugged a little but as soon as his lips pulled into a slight smirk my eyes rolled on their own. “ Surprise, surprise, I followed your career. Just as much as you followed my life for the past few months. ” I poked him in the ribs with my finger, making him wince for a second before we both started laughing at the little sound he made.

“ Fair. I still hate how Instagram shows who opened your stories. ” He shook his head a little and both of our heads turned towards the water when we realized the background chatting was getting closer and closer to where we were sitting. They were just a few meters away when my eyes landed on their figures and I sensed when Marcus stood up from next to me, making me push myself up too.

I didn’t feel too anxious about him meeting my other friends, although I knew what this meant for my evening at the dorm with them. They would have an immense amount of questions both about him and us, even though I already mentioned him when we were bringing up our past. A few of them even knew about my past feelings about him and how him reappearing on my socials played with my emotions, but they only saw a few photos of him. This was another level and I knew he would be the topic for at least the next week between us, for one reason or another. Depends on how we get on from this point and if we manage to keep in contact when they have to fly away again.

“ Oh, I knew it wasn’t just my imagination. I told you someone was coming here. ” My roommate spoke up as soon as they got close enough to make us out from the darkness. “ You’re Marcus, right? ” She stepped right in front of him, reaching her hand out while introducing herself. I always admired her boldness even in front of strangers.

“ Yes, although I didn’t know so many people knew me from here. ” Marcus let out an uneasy chuckle, looking at me a bit concerned. I just shook my head dismissively, almost telling him that it was just a ‘Girl group’ thing. Relief washed over me though that I didn’t share a lot about him, behind his back.

I watched from the sideline as everyone introduced themselves to him and for a second it felt domestic as all of them shot me a concerned glance towards me. It felt like they would pounce at him if they saw that I was uncomfortable in his presence. While it made me feel loved in a way, I also didn’t want them to really chip on the situation. It was something that better dealt with in private as I felt like we had to talk lots of things through to get back to the friendship we left behind years ago. This wasn’t the setting for a conversation like that.

“ We should probably get home before it gets really late. School won’t wait in the morning. ” I spoke up before any of them could start questioning him. We would never be able to get going then. “ Maybe we can catch up sometime before the race? I’m sure you will have enough to do during the weekend. ” I turned back towards Marcus who looked just as relieved as I did seconds ago.

“ Yeah, that would be better. Maybe lunch, or a coffee in the afternoon? Whenever you’re free of course. ” He nodded a little, still glancing at the girls who were either packing up or staring him down behind me.

“ I’m up for either of those. Surprise me. ” I grinned at him, feeling the pull on my arm when everyone was ready. “ Is your number the same? ” I asked him, already taking a step back, but waiting for his answers.

“ Yes. Never changed. ” Marcus nodded again, a little smile playing on his lips at the idea that we’re going to meet up again probably. At least I hoped so. Why else would he stalk me down and come up to me for a chat?

“ I’m gonna text you in the morning when’s my last lecture. We can meet up after that. ” I told them, before turning around with one last wave and catching up to my group. I could only hope that they would at least let me sleep before the questions start pouring out of them all at once.

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sunflowersloth · 4 years

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Moon and Sea- Caleb Widogast x Reader

Requested By: Anon.

Request: “Hi! Could I request fluff prompt 1 with Yasha or fluff prompt 16 with Caleb?”

Warning: None, just some cute fluff!

A/N: I’ve got all posts I’m making tonight on the queue so that way you don’t get like 10 writing pieces in a row. Hope you enjoy, I really liked writing this!

You loved the ocean. You had ever since you were a little girl in Nicodranas, always enjoying the sounds of water lapping onto the sand, of seagulls flying across the sky, and of the cool sensation of water gently washing against your feet and ankles. So being on the Balleater with your best friends made you feel like you were small again.

You spent most of your time on the ship either sitting in the crow's nest or leaning over the railing to stare at the ocean. You were joined by different members of the party, Jester often coming to sit with you in the crow's nest, her painting or drawing while you read, or Fjord who liked to make small talk whilst they looked at the deep blues of the ocean

Caleb also joined you, though his visits were much quieter. Normally the two of you sat or stood somewhere where the sea was visible, both reading and occasionally showing the other something they found interesting. But, for the most part, their meetings were quiet and comfortable.

Within these visits, you found yourself falling for the wizard. You had thought he was handsome, kind, and smart before your extended time at sea, but the time spent reading caused your crush to grow. It wasn’t very often you felt comfortable sitting in complete silence with another person, and you found yourself sneaking more and more glances at him when you sat together reading.

After a couple of nights at sea, the Mighty Nein had decided that they would give the ship’s crew a night off, allowing them to sleep whilst the party took watch and completed some chores. Currently, you and Caleb were the only ones on the deck, with Beau up in the crow's nest, and everyone else had gone to bed after finishing their chores. Caleb and you decided to help Beau with taking the first watch, which left you two leaning over the railing, watching the deep blue ocean.

“I must be honest, I am very much looking forward to being on dry land again,” Caleb said, leaning over the railing as he stared out at the vast ocean. You leaned beside him, a soft smile gracing your features.

“Really? If it were up to me, I’d live my whole life on the sea,” You responded, letting your eyes close as you took a deep breath. Salty, fresh air filled your nose before you breathed it out. When you opened your eyes, Caleb was staring at you with an eyebrow raised in questioning. You smiled at him, shrugging.

“What? I grew up with the ocean. It’s always made me feel safe and secure. It reminds me of my family,” You said, allowing the soft memories of your family to invade your mind.

“Besides, I think the ocean at night is one of the best images I’ve ever seen. The moon is so pretty, and the ocean only makes it seem bigger and brighter. I think the moon might be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” You said, turning your attention to the sky, where the moon glowed, big and bright. Caleb watched you, the gleam of the moon in your eyes.

“I agree. The moon is very very beautiful,” He said. You turned to him, your eyes wide and a smile on your face. The air around you changed, and for some reason, your heart started racing. Caleb’s eyes were soft, as you leaned closer to him, seemingly pulled by his blue eyes.

“Do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?” You asked, your voice soft and hushed. Caleb’s cheeks flushed red as he felt his heart drop in a way he hadn’t felt since Astrid.

“What?” Caleb asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“I mean, we said the moon is so pretty, and I’m jealous of it. I can only imagine how jealous the moon must be of you, considering how pretty you are,” You said, staring up at him.

“You think I’m pretty?” Caleb asked, almost confused. He had never seen himself as anything other than a broken, dirty man. What about him could be beautiful?

“Of course. You’ve got gorgeous and fluffy ginger hair,” You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair, his eyes closing in comfort.

“You’ve got the most beautiful blue eyes,” You said, causing Caleb to look at you so you could admire the eyes you loved so much. They reminded you of the ocean, of your home.

“And your hands are so soft, yet strong,” You said, slowly grabbing his hands and allowing your fingers to run over his palms and fingers. They are soft, with a few callouses, and with every callous, you stopped to trace it for a few moments, before interlacing your hands with his.

“And you are brave, smart, and kind. You are the most beautiful person, inside and out. And I love you,” You said, softly. Your heart raced as you finished, waiting for Caleb’s response. You had laid your heart out for him, and it was time for him to either return it or keep it. You took a deep breath, letting the ocean air soothe your nerves as you waited the few moments it took for Caleb to respond.

Without much warning, Caleb leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek. Your eyes widened as he pulled back and gave you a small, awkward smile.

“I love you too,” He said softly. You smiled, before wrapping him in a hug. Caleb wrapped his arms around you as well, resting his head on yours.

“I hope you will be patient with me. It has been a while since I’ve been in love,” Caleb whispered, as you pulled away. You smiled at him, keeping a hand intertwined with his.

“Of course.” You said, staring fondly at the sea. The waves lapped against the ship under the moon, and right there, with Caleb on a ship under the moon, you were the happiest you think you ever could be.

#critical role #critical role imagine #critical role x reader #critical role campaign 2 #crc2 #cr campaign 2 #critical role c2 #caleb widogast #caleb widogast x reader #liam o'brien

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midas-or-khaos · 4 years

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Spirit, Chapter 1

The journey down to the University of Falmouth had been a bloody road trip, rather than the drop off it was meant to be. Getting up at around the same time you’d usually go to bed, the two of them were at wits end, bags under their eyes so deep and purple you’d have thought they were weighed down by boulders to get so large. So to say the mother/son duo were at snappy was...

“Fuck me that was a lot of boxes.”

“Stop swearing!”

...A gross understatement.

Not for the first time that day did Bill wonder how his mum was able to hear what he thought were comments under his breath, when most of his life spent back at home she couldn’t hear his bellowing from inside their thin walled, two story house for a towel when he inevitably forgot to get before showering every. Single. Morning. Sod’s law.

Taking a deep sigh, both mother and son looked down the 3x2 meter room, floor littered with boxes of all sizes, and the boy couldn’t help but cringe. This was supposed to be his room for the next year. His home for god sake! Most dog kennels were probably bigger than this. Better furnished too.

“How much was this place?”

“I’m not cheap.” How did she always know what he was thinking?

Still trying to cover his bare arse, the exhausted boy quickly fumbled together an excuse, “I’m just asking for next year so I know what to expect when I have to pay for my own apartment.”

“Don’t lie to me, I know you think this place is awful. My first year, the halls I stayed in were so poorly insulated the toilet water-“

“-Froze over, I know. I’m not taking for granted the insulation, it’s just you can’t deny there’s enough dead skin on that mattress to say there’s probably a colony of something growing in there. Maybe Botulism.”

A light smack hit the back of his arm, turning the peach skin rosy. Ok, he was being too cheeky now, and she wasn’t impressed.

“I’m going to look at the kitchen, start unpacking now so I know it’ll be done before I leave ‘cause I know you won’t do it unless I make you.”

Taking her leave, the boy kept looking at the room, swaying between both feet, a sigh huffing out like like some overworked Victorian steam train as he let his brow hang heavy over his eyes to shade the shitty bleak, full-screen bright sky that dominated most of the year in dreary, coastal areas like his uni. The low ceiling only came to around 6’1/2ft tall, fitting the overall feeling of ‘Sardine tin’, though for the first time in probably forever he was happy to only reach 5’3ft. If he’d been reaching 6ft like most of the people his age, Bill was sure he would’ve been feeling claustrophobic. Still didn’t mean he enjoyed the room, though.

Working up the energy, the smallest box was taken into hand first, and began the tedious process of open, pick out, place, repeat. Contrary to the usual, the whole apartment wasn’t too overheated, and made the work more manageable, meaning once all the clothes were pulled out and hung up, he didn’t have to change out of his long sleeve t-shirt or baggy jeans.

With a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth and a hand scratching cherry, buzzed hair to brush out the accumulated dust, the last and second largest box pulled open held all his art supplies, from a bag of coloured pencils to a tray of oil pastels, seven clean canvases and bottles of acrylic paint (all in different stages of use and decay, the white nearly out) to sponges, rollers and brushes. If you’d heard of it, he probably had it. These were his pride and joy, the reason behind his whole relocating. These next 3 years, he was going to learn how to illustrate professionally. It’d been a pain in the arse to get here, having to do an extra foundation year just to earn the correct amount of points to get in anywhere, but to finally be where he wanted to be (excluding this flat), was a dream come true.

Kneeling down and using care he hadn’t bothered using with his other bits and bobs, each item was lifted out and slid into the square cabinet just under window along the back wall, slotted in together. Silent work, with upmost precision. No more irritating unpacking after this. Just a well needed nap maybe.

The door threw open unexpectedly, slamming into the wall, sending the poor boy up in shock, only to knock o into the unforgiving block of wood making up the overhanging window cill.

“FUCKING HELL!”

“STOP. SWEEEEAAARRRRIIIINNNGGGG!!!!”

Swerving round, venom charged by the unexpected and unnecessary pain, alongside the lack of sleep spat out, “Well maybeeeee if you had KNOCKED like a NORMAL FUCKING HUMAN BEING I wouldn’t have swore when I HIT my HEAD!”

No reply, just the sourest notes pinching her brow and nose. Now she’d fully lost it. Just great. Always quick to offend, painfully slow to forget. She wasn’t going to let this incident go any time soon. The thought clogged his throat and pinched the flame of rage, till all that was left was guilty silence. He’d fucked up.

“...some...of your flat mates have arrived.” Muttered out. Turning round, she briskly left without another word, her footsteps echoing down the stairwell just outside the thin apartment door.

“..,I’m sorry.” Whispered out dejectedly against the silence. Too late, as always. Why couldn’t he control his anger and just hold his breath? So much impulsiveness was becoming irksome even to himself. He didn’t think about swearing negatively, it’s offensiveness never really made sense to him he never directed at anyone. But her constant nagging and his irritability made for dynamite. He’d have to make up for that before she left. God, she was leaving properly today! For months! Was he really prepared for life on his own?

No, he couldn’t think like that, this is what he had worked for. Getting up, giving few quick assuring leg rubs, Bill shook his head to get out any unwanted thoughts and to go find the kitchen. He wasn’t really in the mood to have awkward stranger conversation, but ‘first impressions are always important’ as his mum would say. He supposed she was right, he needed to at least make some friends. The cramped corridor outside only had 5 doors, so it was easy to find luckily, and already there were a couple people and residents hanging around chatting.

“OH! Hi, which are you in?” FUCK, where the hell had she been hiding?!

A regally tall girl sporting the single most neon make up I’d ever seen came unseen from my right, and stood close.

Poor idiot couldn’t help but stare up in awe at the whole display of cyan shadow circling almond eyes and mint lipstick offsetting her natural tan skin and jet black swath hair. She must’ve be studying as a make up or fine artist to have that much knowledge on colour theory and pattern. Shit, shouldn’t stare.

“Oh, sorry, ugh... which room was it...I can’t remember the number but the one just by the entrance to the apartment.”

“That’s room 7.”

“Thank you.” The conversation died. There was a social queue here wasn’t there? Conversations usually carried on longer than this, what was it?

The girl smiled politely, but turned and left to talk to another girl. Bill let out an irate huff. Damn it, once again, a failed attempt at human interaction.

Never mind, try again.

Taking the initiative this time, he walked up to a lone boy this time. Ginger, riddled with freckles, slightly chubby. Tapping his shoulder, the boy turned and Bill tried to give his best realistic smile: eyes crinkled, cheeks full.

“Nice to meet you, I’m-“

“I’m a bit busy, can we talk later?”

Taken aback, all he could say was, “Oh, er, yeah. Sorry.” And he backed off again

2 more attempts and all he was left to do was huff. This was useless! Turning round, the brunette took off with silent footsteps out and didn't look back till he reached his room, sliding the door closed. Hands on the door, Wetness on his cheek. Lifting a hand, he tried desperately to wipe away any sign of tears. This was stupid, why was he so bad at social interaction? All he had to do was respond, like other people normally do... but how do people know what to say when there’s nothing interesting in common? Who talks about the weather and sports as a proper conversation?!

No, he couldn't cry here, anyone could hear him though these thin door. The bed seemed a more inviting place to calm down; covered, warm, maybe decrepit and creaky but it was the best he had, so no time like now to jump in. So that’s what he did, and it took a good hour, but the ache of anxiety that he hadn’t noticed had been building up in his chest earlier, finally drained away under the covers till he could at least stop his tears from falling. A year apart from familiarity and family was more daunting thought than it had been ever before.

A light knock sounded out. Hastily the covers were ripped back and hopefully now enough time had passed that his eyes weren’t puffy from all the rubbing. Mum walked in and a btech version of his earlier smile came out, probably pained looking. She looked slightly less upset than before, but still sported piercing hawk eyes. For all their disagreement, the boy didn’t want his last link to home on a sour note, so took his chance, and spoke up, trying to make amends for earlier, “Mum, thank you for dropping me off. I’m so sorry for acting stupidly, I was tired and in pain, and should’ve been calmer. I’ve unpacked everything and what not so I can take you out for a meal like you said earlier if you want?”

No immediate response, just the same prolonged eye contact, up until she let out a sigh. Was that a resentful sigh or a sigh of forgiveness?Oh how he hated being unable to understand subtleties.

“It’s alright, just please try to understand this from my point of view. Your an adult and people won’t appreciate you swearing around them when you work professionally, so just please try to make an effort to stop. For both our sakes.”

She was being lenient this time. She too wanted to leave on good terms. “I know, I’ll try and stop swearing so much.” A lie, but his swearing was habitual now, so it wasn’t going to change any time soon.

“I’d love to go out, but I’m already meeting a friend in town. You know Sandra right? Well she’s come up from Exeter to meet me, so I can’t miss that. Maybe tomorrow morning before I leave to Manchester?”

Why did it have to be tomorrow?

“Sure. See you tomorrow.”

“Alright see you tomorrow. Try and make an effort to make friends please?”

His Mum blew a kiss and left on good terms, so at least now Bill knew his mind could be at rest not worrying over an awful departure. His whole face dropped at last, overexerted by false emotion. If he hadn’t felt drained before, he sure as hell was now. What the hell his expression must luck like now was unbearable to think about. The covers came back over, but this time it wasn’t coming back off till tomorrow. Screw getting into pyjamas, fuck making friends, piss off outside world. All he needed now. Was rest.

————————————————————————————————————————

...Cold...

...coooolllllddddd???…

...Where were his covers?...

...why could he hear wind?

Head pulled up and eyes forced open, Bill was greeted by a yellowing sea of grass. Only, this grass...was seven times his height..

...what in the actual fuck? Elephant grass?

Shit, a winter gust blew up the back of his shirt and crawled into his skin, the force throwing him face down back into the ground. Shit, he needed to get to shelter. But where the fuck would shelter be in a field of grass?! Isn’t this stuff supposed to be the shelter! And more to the bloody point, where even the fuck was he! Was this some sort of shit joke played by someone in his flat or something?

Getting up properly this time, adrenaline pumped out by his rude and impromptu awakening, the boy grabbed the edge of his shirt to keep it down and hunched over as he began to walk forward. Obviously he was automatically lost, but he was balls deep in this shit show now so nothing better to do. Ughhhh Just one foot in front of the other COME THE FUCK ON. There’ll be shelter at some point. Thank god it wasn’t muddy, otherwise he’d be stuck here forever. Would be like walking through tar. Looking up through the arching tips of the leaves, the sky was the same blinding, blanket white as yestrday, no sun at all. It could very well rain soon if the clouds decided to turn grey. That spurred him onward. The winds kept on beating down, nearly knocking him down without warning at irregular intervals so he was constantly on his toes, and the uneven ground was a bitch to deal with. Ugh, now he understood what his mum was going on about “too much swearing”.

Something felt especially wrong about this situation. Obviously waking up in an endless field of grass was completely out of the ordinary, but the world felt.. out of proportion. The cracks in the earth which should have been minute, barely feel able, yet these were the more like small trenches, the size of gutters. On top of that the elephant grass was decidedly less woody, and reached higher than anything he’s seen before. Was this actually a joke?

Over the gale, was that. It WAS. Murmurs over the utterances of the wind; there were others out here too!

“HHHHHHEEEEEEEYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!”

The murmurs stopped, YES they’d heard him.

“HHHHHHEEEEEEEYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!”

“AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”

...who responded to a hey with ‘arghhh’.

But more importantly...how in the hell were they so loud? Would it be a good idea to be found by someone he didn’t know the intentions of? An extra large gush smacked the back of his head, thin, neon red fuzz doing nothing to stop the icy chill gripping his skull and adding to the overall painful exhaustion that was going to take the waning strength of blueing limbs. There was no choice left.

“HHHHHHEEEEEEEYYYYYYYY, I’M OVER HEREEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!”

No shout this time thank god, his ears couldn’t take that again. Legs shaking, feet black and blue in his trainers, Bill was desperate for them to arrive soon.

THUMP THUMP

What was that?

THUMP THUMP

WHY THE FUCK WAS THE GROUND SHAKING?!

The earth tremors kept coming, and the boy couldn’t stand any longer, falling to his knees and gripping the strands around him with white knuckles. They were getting closer. They couldn’t be earthquakes. Something huge was approaching. Nonononononohejustsighedhisdeathwarrentandnowwhateveritwaswascomingtocollect-

The thumps stopped directly in front of him and a shadow fell over. He’d been seen. Looking straight up through the light canopy, staring straight down at him, was a face.

A gigantic.

Bearded.

Middle aged.

Face.

...Not a point of pride. Bill fainted.

(AN:- a repost from my other account cus it isn’t working properly)

#original character #original writing #ocs #my ocs #g/t writing #g/t community #g/t fluff #g/t #gianttiny #gt #giants #tiny #giant/tiny #giant male #giant tiny #g/t oc #g/t story #giant tiny story #gt blog

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hungline · 5 years

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take me to the sky

pairing: junghope genre: fluff, uni au, slice of life, rated g warnings: none words: 1050

summary: Jeongguk leans over Hoseok and pulls up the game on his computer, his veiny forearms all that Hoseok’s eyes can see. There’s just so much of Jeongguk around him right now, more than Hoseok’s ever experienced before, but it isn’t unwelcome.

If Hoseok had been paying more attention, he honestly shouldn't have felt so surprised.

But he wasn't and that was the problem.

"So you're telling me that your battle tag is Seagull?" Hoseok asks, the tone of disbelief in his voice the only thing that he can really make out.

Jeongguk tilts his head back as he looks up from the floor and nods, mouth set into a firm line. He obviously has no intention of speaking and while that's usually fine and dandy with Hoseok most of the time, right now he'd really appreciate a verbal response.

"Seriously?" He asks again because Hoseok will be damned if he doesn't at least try.

"Yes," Jeongguk mumbles out then, lowering his gaze so that he isn't looking right at Hoseok when he does.

Hoseok runs a hand over his face, not really knowing what to say now except the obvious joke in his head that even Seokjin would applaud him for. "Why? Wanted to be one with the birds, did you?"

Jeongguk doesn't laugh, even when Hoseok does and continues to look down at his socked feet. Hoseok's laughter dies down very quickly after that.

"Sorry, that sounded funnier in my head."

The younger man merely shrugs, not keen on speaking again. And it's not like Hoseok would blame him for that anyway. So he strides forward and settles himself down beside Jeongguk, nudging him with his elbow once he's certain that if Jeongguk were to shove him right back, he won't end up sprawling across the floor.

"Sorry, Gukkie. Really," Hoseok tries again, doing his best to peer up into Jeongguk's face. "Bet you'd make the cutest seagull alive."

That draws an adorable giggle out of Jeongguk, his cheeks flushing the lightest of pinks. Hoseok smiles at him, throwing an arm over his shoulders that's loose enough for Jeongguk to shake off if he wanted to.

But Jeongguk doesn't want to and so Hoseok's arm stays, Jeongguk's body heat quickly making the elder begin to sweat. Not in the it's boiling in here kind of way, but in the I'm a little nervous way. Jeongguk either doesn't notice or pretends not to care.

"So, how do you play this?" Hoseok asks, nodding towards the tv.

Jeongguk hands him the controller, hands on his knees now. "I'll show you, go into practice first then choose the easy mode."

Hoseok does as he's told, nodding when Jeongguk makes a satisfied noise as the game queues him into a skirmish. They wait as it loads, Jeongguk cursing his wifi under his breath as Hoseok begins to laugh nervously as the screen glitches once.

"Sorry. When it does that, it means I have to restart the whole thing. We could play on my computer instead though?" Jeongguk offers as he takes the controller back, quickly exiting out of the game and turning the system off as he speaks.

"Sure. Why not? I have time to kill, anyway," Hoseok replies with a shrug of his shoulders, smiling as warmly as he can when Jeongguk stands up.

Hoseok stands up as well then, quickly walking towards Jeongguk's computer before plunking down in the comfortable gamer's chair that Seokjin had berated Jeongguk for buying. Jeongguk is, if anything, unwilling to listen when it comes to what he spends his money on and Hoseok had tried to change the subject as quickly as he could before things between the two could get ugly. It just hadn't worked is all.

And it's not like Seokjin and Jeongguk usually argue. They don't. But when it comes to money, Seokjin is sensitive. Coming from a rich family always meant that Seokjin has been well-off and though he isn't practically rolling in the money his parents send him every month, he has enough to sustain himself with well over the normal amount needed for the average college student. Because of this, Seokjin likes to buy thingsーnot for himself, but for his friends. He likes buying expensive things for his friends, whether it be for their birthday, an accomplishment, or the holidays. Doesn't matter. Seokjin takes any chance he can get.

So every time Jeongguk goes ahead and buys something on the expensive side (which is often, actually, now that Hoseok thinks about it), Seokjin manages to throw a fit each and every time. Hoseok always plays the middleman, gently reminding Seokjin that Jeongguk doesn't like having things just handed to him and quietly murmuring how worried Seokjin gets when he feels that he could have taken care of things for Jeongguk because he cares.

This gamer chair had been another argument, a bigger one that was far from easy for Hoseok to placate. It almost involved fists, but instead of punching Jeongguk in the face like Hoseok expected, Seokjin merely pulled him in close and hugged him to his chest for a long time. Long enough for the hardened expression on Jeongguk's face to melt and give way to his usual shy self.

So the chair is comfortable, yeah, but Hoseok can't stop thinking about how red Jeongguk's face had flushed when he told Seokjin to keep his nose out of other people's business.

The look on Seokjin's face had been priceless.

Jeongguk leans over Hoseok and pulls up the game on his computer, his veiny forearms all that Hoseok's eyes can see. There's just so much of Jeongguk around him right now, more than Hoseok's ever experienced before, but it isn't unwelcome.

It's justーnew.

The game's startup screen is done loading now and Hoseok squints at it, feeling unprepared for what's to come. "How do I play?"

Jeongguk laughs, a little evilly, and Hoseok feels that he should worry over the implications of that, but when Jeongguk leans even further into his space, Hoseok finds that he really doesn't care.

He wasn't paying attention before, not when Jeongguk could barely look him in the eye without stuttering, but now, now with Jeongguk letting his body tell Hoseok things he never could, Hoseok understands.

It's almost too easy to tug Jeongguk into his lap and press a kiss to his temple, before nudging the flushing boy to show him how to play while sitting on his lap.

As far as Saturday afternoons go, this happens to be one of the best.

#junghope #hopekook #2jung #golden duo #junghopenet #nksnet #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #kwritersworldnet #kwordsmiths #btsguild #betareadernet #bts #fluff #drabble #p:hoseok/jeongguk #d:tmtts #m: fic

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lindoig5 · 4 years

Text

Monday 9 March Day 32 Home Sweet Home

We were up before the alarm woke us and basically just dressed and walked out the door with our baggage (that we had packed the night before). We trekked across the carpark again to the Air New Zealand counter (fully automated check-in and baggage routine) and were through Immigration and Customs in no time. The more we travel, the more I realise that other countries do airports at least a dozen times better than the offensive nightmare that is Australia!

I finished reading another book on the plane and then wrote a bit for this blog and then we were tracking across Phillip Island on the way to Tullamarine. Immigration was confusing but perhaps not quite as painful as normal then it was baggage collection – with constant PA broadcasts advising us that the baggage carousel for our flight was experiencing technical issues and would be fixed in 5 minutes, then another 5 minutes, then another 5 minutes….. Eventually our second case arrived on a different carousel and we headed for Customs. The queue was hundreds of metres long but moved surprisingly well. We had declared a few things, mainly about being in wilderness areas, but they just asked Heather if her shoes were clean and waved us both through.

Back in Australia again to the welcoming sight of our smiling limo driver Nick who had been cooling his heels for about an hour. Our wonderful travel agent Bev from Travelmanagers arranged for Nick to take us to and from the airport as a bonus – thank you Bev, it was wonderful and Nick is great. He just takes control of our bags and all and we ride home in luxury.

We were home in our own little pad by about 10am and had the kettle on for a cuppa before doing anything. We had completed a journey of 9280 kilometres by ship and perhaps 100 or so by zodiac. We flew 5278 kilometres and travelled close to 400 on land - more than 15,000km all up! After that, I figured we deserved a cuppa!

We were in no hurry to unpack but did it slowly over a few days and we dealt with the surprisingly small accumulation of mail and of course email pretty easily. Then the coronavirus turned the world upside down and chaos descended – in my view, largely unnecessarily.

A few impressions It is very hard to condense almost 5 weeks’ experience into a few sentences, but there were a few aspects or blocks of time that warrant some comment.

One BIG highlight was walking on a new continent – and of course, setting foot on remote Antarctica in places where so few people have been, is a bigger deal than walking almost anywhere else on earth. I have often wondered if it is still possible to place one’s foot on any part of the earth that has not been trodden on before. I doubt if this happened in Antarctica, but I had a sense that tramping around on Enderby Island may just feasibly have made this possible – mainly because it had no history of an indigenous population and the farming that did occur there was relatively less invasive - so a few square inches may never have previously experienced the tread of a human foot. Who knows, but I have often thought about it and this gave me a buzz.

The scenery was unique, wild and rugged and so much in monochrome – black rocks and white snow. Obviously, there was the sky and the sea and the islands, but there was stark beauty, high drama and awe-inspiring majesty every day unmatched anywhere else.

Having said that, the magnitude of the huge frozen continent and our uninterrupted day-after-day traversing of the furious but featureless sea was also awe-inspiring (despite a touch of sea-sickness). Who could imagine a hidden continent more than twice the size of Australia, a sea that goes on forever (and ever), ice-blocks the size of France, giant whales displaying just for us, the number and variety of birds and mammals, but no visible fish, reptiles, even insects (except on one island), vast tracts of land with not a leaf, a blade of grass or other plant? So much seemed alien even when we were immersed in it.

I loved the birds (of course) with the albatrosses and snow petrels perhaps being my favourites. Ten or eleven species of Penguin – I still need to do a little more work on my list, but I think I saw at least 96 different species altogether, close to 40 of which I had not seen before. [PS: Have just finished my analysis and note that the exact figures should have been..... Total species seen = 123 – 28 in Australia (Macquarie Island or nearby waters) and 95 in NZ. (I saw some in both areas). These include 26 new additions (species not previously seen) to my Australian list and 50 for my NZ list.

The expedition focussed heavily on the historical side of the region, specifically the huts built by the explorers in the Heroic Age of Exploration that concluded a shade more than a century ago. I expected a much stronger focus on the wildlife (fauna AND flora), but in retrospect, the range of possible sightings was very restricted for about half the voyage and there was very little opportunity to see a lot of flora, so perhaps I am being unfair. I am delighted that so much of the continent and the Sub-Antarctic Islands are free (or have been freed - thank you New Zealand) of feral species and are being vigorously protected against future invasion as far as possible.

The huts are exceptional relics of (relatively) recent history in a tangible form so I am glad they are being preserved in their pristine condition. They are much bigger and more substantial than my previous reading suggested, but having seen them, I appreciate that they probably needed to be something close to this given the elements, the privation and the potential to be marooned there over winter or longer. And retaining them exactly as they were when the early explorers closed the door behind themselves gives them an immediacy and authenticity that is unique in other historical monuments – as if one of the original inhabitants could meet you there and discuss the problems he had endured and the challenges he had overcome that very day.

The long days at sea and the fury of the elements should have been expected but were a bit wilder than I anticipated, but taken as a whole, the experience was unique and given the opportunity, I would do it all again, albeit perhaps with some minor modifications in terms of preparation and expectations.

Epilogue Unless something compelling arises, this is the end of this blog. But I expect there will be another - lindoig6.tumblr.com in all probability, starting in the middle of May and continuing our caravan exploration of Australia’s outback, ticking off a few more isolated stock routes and iconic dirt roads. I will send you an invitation to follow those adventures too in due course.

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mimedusa-blog · 5 years

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the memory that shaped the monster ( 18 September 2009 - 21 September 2009 )

nayoung’s parents are the last thing jinah sees before she’s escorted out of the courtroom. the guards muttered amongst themselves after they put her wrists and ankles in cuffs, connected by a chain that sounded like death toll after death toll with every step. she clambered into the bus, alone, and made no eye contact with the three odd prisoners who seemed to have been waiting for her before they were able to depart.

her lawyer told her to go for an insanity plea, and then a guilty plea when that failed the first time. she wrote a letter, as was expected, but nayoung’s family would have none of it. they were convinced that she was guilty (rightly so), but all her mother could do was cry – “she loved you!” the old woman said, “she loved you, jinah! – you were family to us! – why would you do that to her?!”

song jinah knew that full well and still realised that love could never be a priority again when she struck that first blow to her best friend’s head. then the next, and the next, and when that wasn’t enough she strangled her until her face turned blue and her nails no longer scratched at the carpet. even in her dying moments, nayoung didn’t want to implicate jinah. nayoung forgave her for it.

yet, here she is, all because the third-party chose to blow the whistle.

the ride felt like two days instead of two hours, and that still wasn’t enough time for her to think of a way out.

the building they approach is as grey as the sky above it. the metal gate clambers and slides to the side slowly, giving her a moment to look out and see the drab brown of the officers’ uniforms here. for a moment, there’s still fight left in her, still some willingness to escape. as the bus drives in, at a glance, there are spots of vulnerability and precious seconds that she can exploit to sneak out once she’s found her way out, but the cameras on the other side of the drive are another matter, and she can’t formulate a plan without taking into account any contingencies.

it doesn’t sink in until they make her change out of her clothes and into a sky-blue jumpsuit.

of course, giving the corrections officer a funny remark about looking at her ass as she checked for any smuggled goods earned her a quick smack upside the head, but that isn’t new. what’s new is the scratchy material under her skin and the cold cuffs on her wrists. they feel much heavier than they are because jinah doesn’t bother raising her hands and tries to keep her gaze to the floor. even then, she counts the number of doors in the hallway, takes note of how far away each door is from one another, and hears the cacophony from the metal-slatted openings at the upper half of each entry.

it’s just past dinner service, she hears a passing officer say to another, and catches the look that he gives her way. the pity doesn’t settle well. something bitter rises from the back of her throat, but she swallows it and keeps walking.

they stop at a door that she knows is hers, and fear grips her in vines from the floor, wrapping around her ankles until she’s given a nudge between her shoulder blades.

the room strangles her the moment she enters it. there is a single light in the ceiling and the distinct smell of a toilet soaked in dime-store cleaner permeates her nostrils too strongly. there are six other women here, and her eyes take a moment to adjust from the fluorescent hallway to this cell. light blurs and takes her strength with it – suddenly she’s ten, thirteen, sixteen again, gasping for air in a cupboard under the stairs, smaller and smaller, smelling like the house’s old plumbing and an earthquake thudding above her head whenever her father stomps on a step to keep her cries quiet.

when she exhales, it feels like it’s the last she’ll take.

“no–,” she blurts out as the guard turns her around by the shoulders roughly. she doesn’t realise her hands are trembling until the officer lifts her wrists by the middle of her cuffs and undoes them. “no, you can’t put me in here –!”

she lunges forward, but fear makes her slow. she takes a single step, and the guard punches her in the middle, knocking the air out of her and making her stumble forward, and back on her ass when he pushes her shoulder. “you should’ve thought of that before you killed anybody.”

the door closes with a thud before she can make another desperate attempt.

it goes again, and again. her head feels heavy with the memory. the door feels closer than it is, the ceiling feels like it’s bearing down over her head again, and her heart feels like a pinball bouncing in the too-small canals of her chest. there air is stale here, overused, not enough. someone makes her way over to jinah and touches her arm, but both give out under her in shock. the tremors of her own movements make her crawl to the nearest wall – anything, anything, anythinganythinganythingplease to keep them from closing in. they say something about calm, about breathing, but her forehead rests against the wall and so do her fingers, digging into nothing but concrete.

“breathe,” someone says by her ear, squeezing her shoulder, grips her beyond the fear, and she holds onto that hand as if it’ll lead her out. she listens to the woman, follows it slowly, and closes her eyes tighter, keeping one hand on the wall to keep it from shrinking.

jinah writes the postcard in the yard.

it’s been three whole days, but she’s managed to steal a postcard and a pen. no one waits for her outside, no one gives money to her to send so much as a letter, so her cellmate – who she now knows as jisoo ¬– gives her a few won to send something out. outside, the air keeps her hand stable. she writes a single letter as her addressee.

qian knew – she had to know – jinah’s worst fears, her worst nightmares, and elected to keep her here. but jinah hoped to god it was just anger (surely, it was) and that it would subside. qian would forgive her if she could just explain that she had no choice, that she truly was sorry, and that she loved nayoung, too. maybe qian would do something. anything. qian knew this would be hell for her, didn’t she? she knew, and she still opened her damn mouth, but maybe she could change her mind and it will be alright –

as soon as her pen left the surface, however, a shadow loomed over her on the bench.

“whose postcard is that, little girl?”

she doesn’t bother looking up, and instead folds the 100-won coin in postcard, and tucks it in the front pocket of her jumpsuit before answering. “mine, now. what’s it to you?”

jinah looks up.

they are only numbers here. she doesn’t bother learning who this woman is but, surrounded as she is by others who look just as menacing and just as ugly, she figures it’s someone who thinks she’s the boss. by the way her (unwaxed) upper lip curls, it’s obvious that jinah’s dismissiveness isn’t something that she’s used to.

“i hear you have no one on the outside, girl. no one to miss you, no one to send anything to, no one to get money from. i’m asking you nicely where you got it.”

she doesn’t blink. there are worse monsters like this. there are monsters like her, who sit on the lowest bench and mind their own business because their friends and cellmates are on their own shifts sewing clothes together. so, she answers, “none of your business.”

again, probably the wrong answer. “don’t be a little bitch, kid. give it to me. everyone pays up if they don’t want to get hurt – and you don’t want to get hurt, do you?”

she takes a step forward, and jinah stands up in turn, fast enough that it makes her head spin wild with excitement she wishes she didn’t feel. the woman is definitely bigger than her, taller, bulkier. there’s a clear vein at her neck that would be too easy to stab.

“no.” she scoffs. this is nothing. this woman is tiny, and she glares up and jabs a finger right at her chest, in the middle of her non-existent breasts, pressing against bone and fat and skin. “fuck. off.”

the woman sighs. “fine. i warned you.”

as if waiting for that queue, the women on either side of their leader holds her arms still. they’re too quick, and her hand is still clutching onto a pen. the fist comes for her stomach first. her foot lands on the right woman’s foot, head dodging down as a large fist almost hits her temple. the fight in her shocks them for half a second, and this is enough. the left one goes down next, earning a swift four-fingered jab to her throat. her elbow hits the other one’s stomach, too, just in case, and when they stumble back their leader realises that this is no ordinary little girl, and especially not when jinah aims the pen at her neck – but she catches it with her palm just in time. the ink nib digs into the leader’s skin with the force and speed of it, but instead of fighting back, she steps back and cries –

“she did it!”

jinah’s brows quirk into a frown – “what –,”

and this time, more than one grabs her wrists. someone hits the back of her knees, twists her elbow and her shoulder back. the familiar click of cuffs binds her wrists together, and something hard hits right at her spine, making her fall on her stomach. but this isn’t enough, and she sees the pen sink into the wet, muddy earth almost as quickly as her cheek hits the ground. and still this isn’t enough, because they hit her again. yet it isn’t enough, it isn’t enough, no –

“you think you’re so tough on your own, huh?”

“we knew it was a matter of time. damn, fuck – stay still! – fine, let’s see how you do on your own, crazy bitch –,”

“no –! no! it wasn’t me!” she hears her own voice from far away when they hoist her up from under her arms. her legs struggle to find their footing, stumbling. mud clings to her cheek and it stings her lip. she tastes it when she swallows. “no, get that – fucking ¬– son of a bitch! – NO –!”

she doesn’t know how long she’s spent here.

this cell is smaller. louder. when they threw her in, the coin fell out of her pocket and through the shower drain. there isn’t a shower. there’s a bucket that smells like shit and almost makes her throw up. the flat floor smells like piss and vomit. there aren’t any windows. there’s a single vent at a ceiling that’s too high for her to reach. the mattress is so thin she might as well have slept on the floor itself. at some point, she tore as little pieces off the postcard as she could to pass the time, dropping them into the slots of the drain.

she doesn’t know how long she’s been here.

there’s a ghost every time the light mocks her under the metal door. no one opens anything here, and even if they did, jinah wouldn’t hear it. she doesn’t know how many times in a day her father’s cold, dead fingers sink into her skull in her sleep. she doesn’t know how often her mother steps on her chest when she sleeps. she doesn’t know how often nayoung strangles her.

she measures it by the times she wakes up, by habit, by stale food. there is a single meal in between her waking and sleeping moments, comprised of gruel that tastes sour and bread hard as stone. sometime in between, her mother visits, blames her, yells at her, asks her why she didn’t go with her father, and why it had to be her father who died. then, when she cries enough for her to leave her be, her father takes her mother’s place and says fear without opening his mouth. before she sleeps, he keeps her company, whispering, hurting, bleeding. when she wakes up, right before mealtime, nayoung hovers above her and strangles her with love.

jinah doesn’t know how long she’s been here, and she doesn’t know how it is she finds herself out.

when they let her out, she smells like death.

when they let her out, she smiles like it, too.

#so.low #med.impt #[ it's 2k words but y'all read it

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nic-and-annie-in-france · 5 years

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Italy

We traveled around Italy for Spring Break. Since we will be heading back to the States soon, we wrote shorter, co-written accounts of our travels as we went along. Annie is typing, so any references to “I” or “me” below mean Annie.

We began our trip by taking an overnight bus from our home in the Alps all the way to Rome. This was not our first choice of transportation; I’ve heard horror stories about overnight buses. However, I waited too long to buy tickets for our Geneva-Naples flight and it sold out. Any other option was going to take an extra day of travel and a couple hundred more dollars than we were willing to pay. So we bit the bullet and booked the bus, knowing that for better or for worse it would be an adventure.

Our rear ends hurt, and our sleep was interrupted frequently, but our ride went about as well as we could have hoped for. The bathroom worked (we’ve been on long distance buses before where this was not the case), and when we decided to give up trying to sleep, we got to enjoy the sun rising on the Italian countryside.

Naples

Nicolas says he liked Naples better than I did. It was probably one of my least favorite places we have been in Europe. Even though I didn’t like it that much, I thought its aesthetic was fascinating. The buildings had a weathered look about them, the people hawking trinkets and souvenirs were quite aggressive, and cars and mopeds racing down narrow alleys forced the crowds of pedestrians to flatten themselves against the sides of buildings to avoid being hit. At street level, people walked slowly and took up the whole sidewalk, and up above, dozens of clotheslines with drying laundry obscured the sky from view. It was claustrophobic to say the least, but in a uniquely Neapolitan way.

Good food, though, covers a multitude of sins. We ordered two pizzas for 6€ apiece at a pizzeria as our first lunch. At that price, we thought they would be small, but each pizza was about 14” in diameter, their edges hanging off our plates. Luckily we were able to take our two unfinished halves of pizzas with us to our hostel. We also had our first Italian gelato (brownie flavored 😋).

Our hostel was more bohemian than others we have stayed at—not in a dirty way, but in a convivial, share-your-story-around-the-breakfast-table way. We met a French couple who were traveling for the first time since they put their kids through college, and an Irishman attempting to visit 100 cities around the world (Naples was number 73).

Mount Vesuvius and Pompeii

Mount Vesuvius is an Italian national park, and going there reminded us of our tour of the national parks in the American West. We rode a bus about 45 minutes up the mountain, celebrating the fact that we were not responsible for squeezing a rental car around tour buses on the blind hairpin curves. When we got off, it looked like a different planet. The ground was composed of purplish-black volcanic rock, and not much except scraggly brush was growing on the jagged ridges of the mountain. We walked up and around the rim of the volcano; fortunately, there’s not much to see in there except rock and some hot steam escaping through the cracks in the cone.

Nicolas said that because Pompeii was so big, and lots of it was still in good condition, it almost felt like a Roman-themed amusement park. It is an entire city, and not just a collection of artifacts, so it gives you a more complete sense of what Roman life was like than you might get in a museum. We began our tour of the city cautiously, asking each other, “Do you think we are allowed to go in there?” We quickly learned that you can walk anywhere that isn’t obviously blocked off. So we were free to explore the homes and public buildings belonging to people who lived 2000ish years ago. We found the bigger landmarks, like the forum, the palace, and the two amphitheaters. But we especially enjoyed looking for small houses away from the crowds, perhaps with a little mosaic of a dog decorating the floor, and deciding that that’s where we would have lived.

Rome

We arrived in Rome in the afternoon, so after dropping our bags off at our hostel, we did a little bit of sightseeing. That evening, we got caught in an unexpected rain shower without our rain jackets or umbrella, but since it was still warm, we didn’t mind too much. We were walking up a steep hill to see a pretty public square when the sun finally started to come back out. On our way up the hill, we came to a clearing where there was a beautiful view of the whole city. The rooftops, spires and domes were all glowing yellow-orange in the early evening sunlight, thrown into contrast by the dark blue rainclouds above them. And for a few minutes, a rainbow appeared, with one end of the arc landing straight in the middle of Rome. We were exactly in the right place at the right time to see such a thing.

Shortly afterwards, we walked back down the hill for dinner. The neighborhood was beautiful—creeping vines, colorful façades, wet cobblestones reflecting the sky. Our dinner spot was a confusing hybrid of an establishment, serving only bottles of wine, charcuterie boards, and takeout sandwiches. All the tables were taken when we arrived, so with a layout like this we were unsure if or how we could get our name on the list. There was a sign on the wall explaining that the restaurant technically didn’t have a restaurant license, so the employees couldn’t set the tables, take our orders at the table, or even hand out menus. After a short wait for our seats, we ordered a dinner-for-two charcuterie board (even though charcuterie is normally an appetizer, not a main dish) and a small bottle of prosecco. Nothing about it was a familiar experience for us, and normally we’d be stressed out and put off. But our dinner was nothing short of a feast. We were served several kinds of meat, fruits, cheeses, vegetables, and breads. It felt like a celebration where we weren’t celebrating anything in particular except the fact that we were in Rome, the eternal city, and it had just graced us with a rainbow.

I have a bit of a head cold, and on the morning we were supposed to see the Colosseum and the Roman Forum, I didn’t feel like doing much of anything. I let us sleep in a little longer than we were supposed to, and scrapped the non-highlights on the itinerary that day, thinking we’d go to the Forum and Colosseum and be back in our hostel by lunchtime. But that extra hour of sleep cost us dearly. When we showed up to the back entrance that “no one ever uses,” according to the travel guides, there was a long, long line down the block, and we waited in that line for an hour. Fortunately for us, we enjoy each other’s company, so the time passed pretty quickly. When we got to the ticket desk, they gave us our ticket and told us that our “appointment” for the Colosseum was in one hour. An hour was too long to stand around at the Colosseum, and too short to have a complete visit of the Roman Forum. So, we ended up using that hour to see the nearby non-highlights anyway. All the sidewalks in the area were congested with tourists, tour guides, and worst of all, the aggressive souvenir/water/sunglasses hawkers. It was like navigating the mall on Black Friday, if every single salesperson was working on commission like the salt scrub kiosk people. Over and over again, I regretted my extra hour of sleep. Eventually, after more queueing, standing, and being jostled, we did see the Colosseum and the Forum. By that time, I was pretty tired and having trouble appreciating the sights. But Nicolas the history nerd was having the time of his life, so I really enjoyed seeing him light up at finding such-and-such temple dedicated to such-and-such deity. Oddly, one of our favorite things about the day was drinking straight from the potable fountains in the Roman Forum. We didn’t look as dignified as the people who used them to fill up their water bottles, but the water was so tasty and cold. Refreshed by the fountains, we made our way to the top of the Palatine Hill and enjoyed the view of the city with the ruins in the foreground.

We bought fresh pasta for lunch one afternoon and took it to a park to eat. We found a place secluded from the other people (and the pushy rose salesmen) and scarfed down our pasta so fast that we forgot to take a picture of it until we had only a couple of bites left. It was delicious and the park was beautiful. In the middle of a city of taxis and Vespas, we cherished the smells of grass and budding flowers (or at least Nicolas did because his nose wasn't stopped up).

After succumbing to the long lines for the Colosseum, we weren’t making the same mistake when we visited the Vatican City. We didn’t get there right at 7am when it was supposed to open, but we still arrived in Saint Peter’s Square before 8am. Once we were there, though, we couldn’t find a way to enter the basilica. There were tables and a podium set up at the front of the basilica, with hundreds of chairs set up facing them. There were lots of tourists and tour groups sitting and waiting patiently in these chairs. We sat there for a while, but it was unclear what we were waiting for. Is this some kind of queueing system for entering the basilica? A Mass that we didn’t know about? Some other sort of event? When was it supposed to start? We saw a few people entering a side door, and asked the official who let them by if we could go in. He didn’t speak much English and simply said, “Private.” We sat back down. 8:00 and 8:30 came and went. Nicolas eventually went to ask someone else when the basilica would open, and he found out it wouldn’t open until one in the afternoon.

We decided to go back outside the city to the Vatican Museums, which were located at a side entrance to the Vatican City. On our way there, we were stopped by a man with a badge, who asked us if we had a ticket. We didn’t. He pulled out a map to show us where the entrance was, but then suggested that we take a skip-the-line guided tour which would let us see the museums and the Sistine Chapel and the Basilica, all for a lower price than the normal admission. As he was gesturing to his map during the sales pitch, I looked closer at the credentials on the map and on his badge. He was working for a third-party tour agency, not for the Vatican Museums themselves. We told him we weren’t interested in the guided tour, we just wanted to find the line for the normal entrance. He said, “But I’m offering you a better deal. Why aren’t you taking it?” Then he offered to show us the end of the line, apparently to show us how unreasonable we were being. He took us to where we could see the line, and after we said a second time that we just want to join the line, he walked off. But in the time it took us to actually walk to the end of the line, we were approached by half a dozen other people selling other tours. We got to the line, where another man asked us if we had a ticket. We said no, we’re just waiting in line for a ticket. He said, “This isn’t the line, this is a tour group. If you want a ticket, you have to go to this office…” and started in on his sales pitch. We crossed the street to get away from him, nearly ready to give up and return to the hostel. We decided to locate the physical entryway to determine where the line really was. We did so, and found someone behind the barrier who surely must be trustworthy. He verified that the line we had just left was the real line, so we made our way to the back again. As we waited, another six or so men selling tours tried to approach us. Eventually we made it to the front of the line, and I was glad that we persevered and finally found the place we needed to go. The whole ordeal felt like a parable to me. “The gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few.” See that no one leads you astray!

Inside the museums, we had a great time. The museums’ collections were diverse, featuring ancient Greek, Roman, and Etruscan artifacts as well as modern art by Chagall and Matisse. Naturally, there was tons of religious art. We played our name-that-saint game, and got better at it as we went along. We learned to recognize Saint Francis by his brown habit and the signs of the stigmata. Saint Jerome often has a lion and always has a big red hat. And whether he is depicted as a child or as an adult, John the Baptist wears camel skin and has his staff with a cross. We saw several works by Raphael, including The School of Athens, which is basically a painting of the ancient philosophers’ hall of fame. Since we’re philosophy enthusiasts (Nicolas more so than me), this was probably our favorite work in the whole museum. That’s not counting the Sistine Chapel, which surely is in a league of its own. We strained our necks from looking at the ceiling for so long.

On our last morning in Rome, we went to the Scala Sancta, which are believed to be stairs that Jesus ascended during the Passion (transported from Jerusalem to Rome in the 4th century). If you want to climb the stairs, you have to do so on your knees. Normally, the marble stairs are covered by wooden stairs as a protective measure, but the wood was removed and the original marble was exposed just a week or so before our trip. We felt a little bit like impostors because many of the other people there were clearly Catholic and making the climb as part of a pilgrimage. We were definitely just on vacation, but at the same time, the stairs did have spiritual importance for us, too. We can’t say we had any kind of grand epiphany while we prayed our way up the stairs, but we were both grateful for the opportunity to do something unlike any other spiritual experience we’ve had.

Florence

Florence is the home of the Italian Renaissance, but our real reason for wanting to visit there was to have a home base from which we could get a glimpse of the Tuscan countryside. Our stay there was short, but sufficient for what we wanted to see in and around this smaller city.

On our first half-day in Florence, we walked around the historic part of the city. By the time we paid for our super-late lunch, the churches on our itinerary were already closed, so we only saw this historic district from the outside. But what we saw, we really enjoyed. There were several huge public squares which were much more pleasant than the ones in Rome because the pushy salespeople were replaced by art vendors and street performers. We were able to find a park bench in a couple of these squares and people-watch without fear of being repeatedly asked to buy sunglasses. We watched children terrorize pigeons, saw young women sit for caricatures, and admired the pink and green stone of the Duomo di Firenze.

Our only full day in Florence was spent on a bike tour of Tuscany, the event we were simultaneously most excited for and most worried about. I haven’t ridden a bike in ages, so when I booked the tour I was really counting on bike-riding being “like riding a bike,” as the saying goes. Thanks to my time as a pedestrian in Lexington, I also have a fear of cycling on a road I’m sharing with cars. But I figured that people less capable than us surely must have taken the tour and lived to tell the tale, so we were cautiously optimistic about the day. It turned out to be one of the most fun and memorable things we’ve done in our time in Europe. We had no trouble riding the bikes, and sharing the road wasn’t as scary as we expected. We had to tear our eyes away from the rolling hills and vineyards in order to watch where we were going. The countryside was beautiful, but it was also uncannily similar to Kentucky. We agreed that if you replaced the vineyards and olive trees with tobacco and horse farms, it would look a lot like the Bluegrass.

During our tour, we also got to visit a hybrid castle/winery/olive oil-ery and taste its wares. Only in Italy can you be given a free glass of wine and then be asked to hop on a bicycle with no questions asked! For lunch, we stopped at a traditional Italian restaurant and had a three-course meal. Our tour continued after lunch, but at that point everyone was allowed to go at their own pace. Nicolas enjoyed zooming down big hills, but when I got pretty far ahead on a long, slight incline, he asked, “Can we slow down? I’m full of pasta and I’ve got nothing to prove.” He had a point. We took it easy after that.

On our last day in Florence, we visited the Uffizi art gallery. We had heard of the museum only because it is mentioned in Civilization V, a strategy computer game we both play. Though we had heard of it, we had no idea what was inside. It turns out that its collection is mostly composed of Renaissance art. It was huge, and we didn’t have a ton of time to spend there, so we looked at the map and decided where we wanted to spend most of our time. Most of the rooms were either named for one particular artist who created everything in the room, or the region/time period the works belonged to. We focused on the names we had heard of—Botticelli, Caravaggio, Titian—and the Florentine rooms. Renaissance means “rebirth” in French, and right away, it was evident how art was “reborn” during that time period. Compared with the medieval art we’ve seen, these paintings demonstrate the Renaissance artists’ heightened awareness and control of perspective, light, and human anatomy. We happened upon a couple of iconic masterpieces that we weren’t expecting to see, like Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus. We entered with virtually no opinion one way or another on Renaissance art, and left with a lot of appreciation of and curiosity about it.

Venice

Prior to beginning our trip, we were least excited about Venice. Amsterdam put a bad taste in our mouths for amphibious cities, and I had heard that Venetians resented the throngs of tourists for ruining their city. It was also the leg of our trip that I never got around to planning. So for our first day there, we decided to just walk around the neighborhoods that we heard were picturesque, and we booked a free walking tour that was advertised as a first introduction to the city.

The hostel we stayed in is part of a franchise, and we had stayed at another one in the franchise in Vienna, so we knew basically what to expect from our stay. This one was located on the mainland, and appeared to be very recently built. Apart from our ninth-floor room being a little bit stuffy, everything about it was modern, sleek, and comfortable. Nicolas said it was one of the most hotel-like places we had stayed in Europe. Something about it, maybe its spaciousness, felt very American. There was also a big-box grocery store around the corner that we went to. It was simply gargantuan by European standards, but it felt like home to us.

Since the hostel was on the mainland, we had to take a fifteen-minute bus ride each day into Venice proper. This was the least pleasant part of our whole stay. We usually waited at the bus stop with about 15 other sightseers, but only 3-6 people could cram themselves onto each bus that arrived. The crowded bus took us into the crowded city center of Venice. Past that point, no buses, cars, or bikes were allowed on the islands, leaving walking and boating as the only possible modes of transportation. We followed one of the main roads for a while, buffeted along by the crowds, then turned onto a narrow alleyway. Almost immediately, all the noise died away and we were alone in a quiet neighborhood. We wound our way around these streets, which thankfully were nothing like the ones in Amsterdam. I was most struck by the city’s color palette: all shades of yellow (though goldenrod was my favorite) for the façades, though sometimes they were salmon pink, with either emerald green or navy blue shutters. I talked Nicolas’ ear off, pointing it out each time I saw something pretty and dreaming out loud about how I’d decorate our future home with the same color palette. A yellow kitchen with emerald accents—mark my words!

In the afternoon, we went on our walking tour. Our guide taught us about the history and culture of Venice, from the biggest events to the smallest details of architecture. She took us to a sumptuous Jesuit church, whose interior was jaw-dropping. It was made almost entirely of marble, with white and green marble cut so that it resembled damask wallpaper. Even a “curtain” around a pulpit on the side was actually made of marble.

The next day, we visited St. Mark’s Basilica and the Doge’s Palace. The basilica was unlike any we had ever seen. The walls and ceilings were covered in gold mosaics, and though the interior was barely lit, every surface glittered. Biblical people and scenes were hidden everywhere, even in places like the underside of arches that are barely visible. We also saw some Bible stories depicted that usually don’t make it onto church walls, like Joseph’s dream about the skinny cows eating the fat cows. The Doge’s Palace was the seat of government of the Venetian Republic. There, we learned about the government of Venice, as well as the art that covered nearly every flat surface in the building. We saw several more paintings by Tintoretto and Veronese. In one room, we saw one of the world’s largest painting on canvas, Il Paradiso by Tintoretto. We learned that the room had caught fire in the 1500s and had sustained heavy damage. The painting that hung where Il Paradiso now hangs was lost, so the doge held a contest for painters to design a new painting to go in its place. Tintoretto won the contest, and now his masterpiece is the largest canvas painting in the world. In light of the burning of the Notre Dame de Paris, I thought this was a good example of the way new creative life can be breathed into a place that has suffered tragedy.

Cinque Terre

The last leg of our trip was spent in Cinque Terre, a series of five little pastel-colored towns on the western coast of Italy. We loved the variety of the things to do and see in this area. There were mountains, winding streets, rocky coasts, beaches, and terrace farms, all within walking distance of each other. We didn’t have much on the itinerary there except to explore the five towns and do whatever struck our fancy along the way. After two weeks of squeezing as many activities as possible into each day, it felt like we were on “island time,” even though there were no islands involved.

Nicolas’ favorite thing to do was watch the electric blue waves crash against the rocky coastline. My favorite thing was walking by the gardens and farms, seeing and smelling everything in bloom. We saw orange, lemon, lime, kumquats, and fig trees, and I desperately wanted a fruit to fall where I could reach it. I felt like the fox in the Aesop fable jumping for the grapes.

Unfortunately, Cinque Terre doesn’t have the infrastructure it needs to accommodate the masses of people it attracts. The villages don’t allow normal car or motorcycle traffic, so the most direct ways to hop from town to town are a train and a long hiking path. There is only one section of the path (between towns #4 and #5) that is still open—the rest have been so badly worn down that they are impassible. The trains typically run 30 minutes late, and so many people accumulate on the platforms that there is hardly room to breathe. We fully realize that we are part of the problem! It’s just a sad paradox: a place that attracts tons of people because of its small-town charm becomes less attractive precisely because it attracts so many people.

We hiked the one accessible leg of the trail, and having done so, we think it will probably close soon too. We enjoyed seeing the mountains and the Mediterranean, but sections of it were too narrow to allow two-way traffic. We’d often have to stop in order to let a dozen people going the opposite way pass us, and in doing so, blocked about a dozen people behind us from advancing too. There was even a section where all but eight inches of the path had fallen away in a small mudslide. We were thankful for the opportunity to do the hike, but don’t think that opportunity will be around much longer.

We took advantage of our proximity to the sea and ate a lot of fresh seafood. Nicolas discovered that he likes fried calamari and anchovies, while I discovered that I prefer plain old fish and chips. And of course, we ended our last full day in Italy in the proper fashion: with two scoops of gelato to share.

Bonus: traveling back home

We walked, trained, and bussed home from about 7am to 7pm. Along the way, we got to see some stunning Swiss mountains from the dirty window of our train. We even saw the real life Orient Express in the same station as us!

#annie #nic #nicolas #travel

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littlerose13writes · 6 years

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Have I Mentioned That I Love You? by LittleRose13

Day 9, The 12 Days of Shipmas - Ice skating ⛸

In which Albus’ Christmas present for Scorpius is just as much a present for himself.

Words: 2,035 Pairing: Albus/Scorpius

18th December, 2023

Scorpius felt incredibly content with life, sat in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, on the way home for the Christmas holidays, no more Head Boy duties to do until the new year, the prospect of spending tomorrow flying with his father and his boyfriend leaning against him snugly.

Albus suddenly shifted and sat up, delving into his bag and coming back with something in both hands. “I almost forgot! Your Christmas present.” He showed Scorpius the gift he’d removed from his bag. “You have to open it now.”

Scorpius looked at Albus’ green eyes, shining with excitement. “But it’s a Christmas present, don’t I have to wait until Christmas Day?”

“No, you have to open it right now, here on the train,” Albus insisted and pressed the small, red box further into Scorpius’ hand.

“Okay.” He took the box and inspected it. “Well, it’s not heavy enough to be a book, and it’s too small to be a new quill.”

Albus shook his head at his boyfriend, smiling widely. “It’s better than a book or a quill!”

“Is it edible?” Scorpius liked to guess what his presents were before he opened them.

“Nope.” Albus shook his head again.

“Can I wear it?” Scorpius rattled the box beside his ear.

“Just open it, Scor.”

Scorpius smiled at his excited boyfriend and carefully eased the ribbon off the box, winding it neatly around his fingers and placing it on the seat beside him. Albus hummed impatiently to his right.

“Ooh, is it a-”

“Scorpius!”

“Okay, okay, sorry. I’m opening it now.” He gently removed the lid and peered into the top of the box. Inside was a tiny glass ball which gradually levitated out of the box and floated in the air in front of them. Scorpius stared it in wonder and Albus was practically fizzing with excitement beside him.

“Watch, watch,” he muttered, his eyes fixed on the glass ball.

The ball glowed and grew bigger until a scene was visible inside of it, almost like looking into a crystal ball. He could see what looked like the skeleton of a huge dinosaur, and a large building with ornate pillars and then two tiny, indistinguishable figures skating across a frozen surface together.

“Is that… us?” Scorpius asked, watching the two figures skate together, their hands connected.

“It will be. I’m taking you to the Natural History Museum in London. It’s a muggle place but they have a hidden wizarding section, and there’s an ice rink at Christmas.” Albus was adorably pleased with himself and Scorpius felt emotion and love well up inside him.

“That’s a magnificent present, thank you Albus!” He threw his arms around his boyfriend and kissed him on the forehead. Albus adjusted his position so their lips could meet and he kissed Scorpius once then grinned at him.

“By the way, it’s tomorrow.” Albus kissed him again, drowning out Scorpius’ complaint.

His heart sank. Tomorrow he was supposed to spend the day with his dad; they were going to go flying and Draco had been talking about it since the beginning of December.

“Tomorrow? Albus, I don’t-”

“Your dad’s in on it, I wrote to him. He said he’d make something up to make sure you kept the day free.” Albus shrugged.

Scorpius shook his head fondly. “You think of everything,” he said, burying his face in Albus’ chest as his boyfriend wrapped his arms around him and held him close. “I love you, Al.”

Scorpius knew Albus was rolling his eyes lovingly like always but he kissed the top of Scorpius’ head and whispered “love you too.”

“This thing is incredible too!” Scorpius exclaimed, pulling away from Albus and picking up the gift box, where the glass ball had shrunk back down and returned to the wrapping.

“Isn’t it? It’s a new Wheezes product for Christmas this year. I helped Uncle George iron out a few problems with it over the summer, it’s powered by a potion, see.”

Scorpius nodded in understanding and listened intently while Albus explained the ingredients he’d had to adjust to make it work properly.

When they arrived at the platform, they found Scorpius’ father waiting with the Potters. As they wished each other farewell, Draco said “see you tomorrow, Albus,” with a wink.

“I can’t believe you knew,” Scorpius shook his head. “Can we still go flying another time?”

“I was hoping you’d say that. How about tonight?”

They apparated together into a quiet street corner of London, not letting go of each other’s hands when they arrived. It was cold enough to snow, but so far no flakes had floated down. Scorpius was wearing a forest green bobble hat which Albus had already stolen from his head twice.

“This is why I don’t wear hats,” Scorpius complained the second time. Albus just laughed, causing Scorpius to employ his last resort tactic.

He threw his shoulders back and held his head up, so he was walking at his full height. He crept his hand up to pat the top of Albus’ own hat, reminding his boyfriend that he was shorter than Scorpius, something Albus hated.

Albus scowled up at him. “Okay, sorry, point taken. I’ll stop stealing your hat.”

Albus’ apology was cut off when they rounded a corner and Scorpius spotted the Natural History Museum in front of them. The building was huge, with bigger and grander steps than even Hogwarts castle, but it too had that timeless, magic feeling to it. The sun was setting and the museum silhouetted attractively against the dusky sky, where it was lit tastefully.

“Wow,” Scorpius involuntarily squeaked and grabbed Albus’ hand in excitement.

“It’s quite something isn’t it?”

Scorpius turned to Albus in utter delight. “Have I mentioned that I love you?”

“No, Scor. You never tell me that.” Albus grinned and pulled Scorpius along. “Skating first, while the sun sets. Then you can get your geek on.”

“I don’t know which I’m most excited for…”

By the time they arrived at the ice-rink, a few tiny snowflakes had started to flutter from the sky and they nestled themselves into the small amount of Albus’ dark hair peeking out of the front of his hat. Scorpius watched them, admiring the way they sparkled like crystals before melting and Albus smiled at him, reaching out to brush a stray snowflake from the tip of Scorpius’ nose.

The ticket collector cleared his throat impatiently and both boys jumped, not realising they were next in the queue. Albus handed their tickets over, they were given some kind of entry wristband and they swapped their shoes for ice skates.

“Wow, I feel more awkward than the time I grew eight inches in one summer.” Albus stood up experimentally in his skates, slightly unsteady as he balanced on the blade on the solid ground.

“You grew one summer?” Scorpius asked incredulously and Albus shook his head, rolling his eyes at his boyfriend.

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand and pulling Scorpius to his feet. They shuffled to the edge of the ice rink, which was big enough to swallow the people already skating on it. There was a huge Christmas tree in the centre, and its lights gave the whole rink a soft glow.

Scorpius stepped out onto the ice first, gliding easily out a short distance and looking down at his feet, whizzing along smoothly across the ice. The cold air rushed past his cheeks as he looked up and everything sparkled as the ice reflected the many, twinkling lights. Scorpius felt lighter than air as he propelled himself gently forwards a few feet.

He hadn’t been skating in years, but the familiar feeling of floating along sparked memories of his childhood, gliding around the frozen lake with his parents either side of him. It had been Astoria who had taught Scorpius to ice skate, holding both his hands gently when he was little, and twirling him round and round when he was a bit older. Scorpius held onto these fond memories, remembering that he could share the experience with somebody else he loved too and turning back to look at Albus. He was still at the edge of the ice, an apologetic look on his face.

“I’m not very good at ice skating. I’ve only been a couple of times.”

Scorpius skated back over to him and leant on the wall of the ice rink. “You’ll get it, it’s like riding a broom really. You just have to keep your balance.”

Albus had been on the house Quidditch team since fifth year as Keeper and he’d helped Slytherin win the Quidditch cup last year. He’d never say it to anyone, but he was a great flyer and Scorpius loved the rare times between NEWT revision when they went flying together.

“Will you show me how?” Albus asked, adjusting his bobble hat with one hand.

Scorpius beamed at his adorable boyfriend. “Of course! Here, hold onto me.” He held an arm out and Albus took hold of him, taking a shaky step out onto the ice. When both his feet were firmly on the ice, he stood completely still and held tightly onto Scorpius.

“So, now I just move my feet?” He started a tiny shuffle but the ice exaggerated his movement considerably and his feet skidded back and forth, completely out of his control. Scorpius grabbed him round the waist to stop him falling.

“You need to get used to it a bit first.”

Scorpius showed him how to move his feet and keep his balance, and they started a slow lap of the rink. Albus was a quick learner and it didn’t take long for them to get into a rhythm, gently gliding around the ice with their arms intertwined.

“Do you want to try by yourself now?” Scorpius asked, even though he was really enjoying the contact between them.

“Maybe you could still hold my hand?” he asked sweetly.

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day,” Scorpius unwound his arms and laced his fingers with Albus’.

“This whole thing was my idea,” Albus said indignantly, gesturing to the ice rink.

They skated slowly, gloved hands interlocked, and Albus gradually looking more sure of himself. He turned to Scorpius with a proud grin on his face.

“I think I’m doing it!” He looked down at his feet for a second, then up to their joined hands. “Not that I don’t love holding your hand, but can I try by myself?”

Scorpius nodded in understanding and let go of Albus’ hand, which he held out to steady himself as they continued to skate slowly together. Scorpius resisted the urge to do a little twirl on the ice.

“This is going surprisingly wel-”

In a heartbeat, Albus went from smiling proudly at Scorpius’ side to landing face first on the ice with an almighty crash.

“Sorry! So sorry! Elliot, come back!” A harassed-looking mother appeared from nowhere, pursuing her young son who had just gone careering into Albus’ back and knocked him flat down. The little boy looked like he didn’t know how to stop himself from skidding around everywhere and, as he whizzed away, his mother followed, casting an apologetic look in Albus’ direction.

Scorpius knelt down - a difficult task in ice skates - and held his hand out to Albus. He was face down on the ice, his arms and legs splayed out like a starfish. “Are you okay?”

Albus looked up at Scorpius; his wooly hat had been knocked askew and his dark hair was falling into his eyes. He blew upwards with a grumpy expression, making his fringe flutter away. “Yep,” he groaned.

With Scorpius’ help, Albus was upright again and clinging to his arm. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not hurt?”

“Other than losing any scrap of dignity I had left, yes I’m okay.” Albus waved a hand casually with a grin. “You’re not laughing at me.”

Scorpius snorted. “I am now I know you’re okay.”

“Have I mentioned that I love you?”

#12 Days of Shipmas #scorbus #Scorpius malfoy #Albus potter #Scorpius x albus #ice skating #Harry Potter fanfiction #12daysofshipmas #haveimentioned

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ilyasvieltrevelyanshepard · 7 years

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Happy N7 day!

Mass Effect means a lot of things to me. I rediscovered my passion for writing with it. I met some marvellous human beings thanks to this fandom. I keep discovering new things about how the rest of the fans see my favourite games.

As I can’t say enough THANKS to Bioware for making the game, and for the good side of the fandom, the ones who keep it alive and kicking, bringing new art, fics, gifs, screenshots, videos, playlist... THANK YOU SO MUCH!

I wanted to write something for this special day, and this little fic popped in my brain ^^ is a bit sad but with a happy ending ;)

Sunlight bathed the yard on the Villa. The crowded space is filled to the brim with recruits, families and press. The first batch of the new N recruits is ready to graduate and get their new ranges, and Alliance wanted to make the party as big as possible.

Hackett has chosen the day wisely. Ten years ago, the war against the Reapers ended with the sacrifice of many, and he wanted to remember every single soul during that celebration.

The heavens seem to be in the mood to celebrate with them because as soon as the high-rank officers begin to climb the stairs of the atrium installed on one side of the yard, the clouds opened, bright sun shining over them. Hackett walks in front of them, walking with long strides until he reaches the dais, the white sheet covering the statue beside him catching his attention while the rest of the group moved behind him. The recruits had been in parade the full time, waiting for their superiors to talk. For the first time since its foundation, the Villa has been the home of the various races of the Milky Way. After the Reapers invasion and the combined efforts to repel them, they discovered that they are even more powerful together. The Citadel will never be again what it was, and after the role played by humanity in the salvation of the whole Galaxy, they have decided to establish the Command Center of the new Allied Federation. And of course, being Hackett who he was, he suggested unifying the special task forces of each race in a single unit. Strangely, they have accepted the idea, and four years after the cataclysm that destroyed the relays, the first group of recruits arrived at the Villa.

Kaidan’s voice distracts him from his thoughts, returning him to the present and the hundreds of eyes looking at him, expectant. “Admiral, whenever you want.”

With a nod, he steps behind the dais, connecting the speaker system. “Today, I stand in front of the best this galaxy has to offer. You are the best warriors, engineers, biotics and pilots. You were destined to be more than you were, and here you are, the first graduates of the N School of Special Units and Tactical Forces.” Some of the families congregated on the terraces around the yard exploded in cheering and claps for some seconds, but it ended as quickly as it has begun. “You will have the honour of wear the same insignia as the heroes of the war. You will write your name beside the ones who gave their lives to save all of us, to give us a future to live.” His hand reaches for the covered statue beside him, grabbing the sheet in his fist. “You will wear the insignia of the thousand soldiers who died during the Reaper war, on Earth, on Thessia, on Palaven, on Tuchanka—" His voice breaks a bit when he looks up, to the shining star over his heads that is the empty hulk of the Citadel. “You will wear proudly the same colours and rank than Major Coats, Admiral Anderson, Commander Shepard.” Nothing but the sheet flapping in the wind breaks the silence. “You will join the ranks of the best of the best. Soldiers!” The full assembly stands in parade, saluting him, even the high-rank officers on his back and the retired soldiers among the families. With a hard pull of his arm, the sheet falls, uncovering a silver statue of the mighty Commander, no helmet on her head, long locks flying back in the wind. A reproduction of the Normandy at her back landing off, a sniper rifle leaning on her hip while she smiles to the crowd. Even Hackett, having been there when they designed, created and installed the statue, feels a clutch of pain and regret around his heart. Returning his attention to the crowd, he returns the salute. “You will wear her colours, her rank. Our Commander, Jane Erin Shepard, who was, in the words of a beloved friend, ‘bigger than life and much more than we deserved’. Soldiers, the time has come to show the universe that her greatness was not a singularity. Rise and shine, serve with honour, make her proud!”

The roaring of the yard was deafening. The units are screaming their battle cries, families roaring and clapping around them, the guarding soldiers shooting salvos to the sky. Hackett let the moment end by itself. They are celebrating their lives as much as Shepard's, and they deserve it. After that, Alenko and the other admirals helped him to put the insignias from the lowest N2 to the higher N6. An hour after his discourse, the last of the N6 leaves the atrium. A lonely figure appears then from the Villa HQ. A woman, around Hackett’s age, wearing a captain uniform, walks to the atrium with a little box in her hands. The woman smiled to Hackett and Kaidan, and the red hair and green eyes make their hearts cry. The woman positions herself beside the Admirals, standing proudly between the two powerful man, touching the box lid lovingly. When the woman gives them a nod, Hackett moves back to the dais, “We have another rank to give, one that is well deserved and we have been waiting to give for a long time. The first N7 after the Reaper war.” All the soldiers and high ranks among the crowd look around, searching for a queue of who can be that soldier. “Major James Vega, step forward!”

James is the first surprised by the words, standing near the admirals in the atrium. Kaidan winks at him when he moves closer, and his breath got caught in his chest when he stops in front of Hannah Shepard. The same green eyes he loved looks at him from a different face. The statue of her shining under the sun behind them. Hackett steps closer, and Hannah opens the lid of the box, showing a ragged N7 insignia. “One of the last wishes of the Commander was to give you her N7 insignia the day you reached that rank. And the day has finally come, Major. You have served with honour, fighting against the odds in more battles than one can count in a lifetime. Exceeding the expectations of every one of your commanding officers, and later of your subordinates. And you have served your flag with honour, sacrificing more than anyone here can fathom.” Picking up the insignia from the box, while Hannah Shepard steps aside and leans against Kaidan, who puts a supportive arm around her shoulders. “An N7 can’t be trained. It must be forged in the fires of battle and defined by their own decisions. Until this day, you have surpassed yourself in every mission. Knowing that your integrity as a soldier is doing that thing which is right when no one is looking. Your deeds have led you to this place, Major Vega, under the watchful eyes of the recruits.” Hackett puts the insignia on James’ dress blues, clasping his hand when he finishes with it. Turning to the recruits in front of the atrium, Hackett returns to the dais, while James goes back to his spot near the rest of the Admirals. “Ten years ago, in this very same day, I encouraged all our races to fight together. We needed a colossal enemy like the Reapers to put aside our differences and think like a single race.The enemy pushed us, believing we will break. But we relented. We stood and fight. And we won. Part of my words can be repeated today. Whatever the universe throws at us, we will prevail. Each of us will be defined by our actions.” He looks to the statue’s face, saluting it, and the rest of the yard did the same, the non-military personnel and families touching their hearts in respect. “Stand fast. Stand strong. Stand together.” Hannah Shepard can’t fight the tear rolling down her cheek, but he brushes it aside with the back of her hand, smiling lovingly to James, eyes moving to the insignia on his chest.

A lonely figure leans against the wall at the far end of the yard. A dark-haired woman, with a prosthetic hand and leg, a patch in an eye and some ugly scars covering the few skin visible under the black hoodie she wears. Her eyes move over the buildings, a soft smile on her face recognising corners she loved. She has stayed there, standing or seating on the ground during the long ceremony. When they uncover the statue, she chuckles, attracting some looks from the guards near the door but ignoring them with shrug and a husky ‘I knew her’, she returns her attention to the atrium, while Hackett, Kaidan and the other admirals put the insignias into the recruits uniforms. Knowing what is coming, she moves closer, still near the walls. When James’ name is called, and the man in question stands from the back of the atrium. Even at this distance, she can see how well he fills his dress blues, and a lazy smile appears on her face, watching how they put the N7 insignia on him. After another little speech from Hackett, the admiral dismiss the recruits, concluding the ceremony.

The soldiers and families around her begin to walk away, leaving the yard in groups to move the party to other places. But the lonely figure stays in the same spot, eyes fixed on the atrium and the persons on it. Hackett turns, like sensing her gaze, and waves to her, taking Hannah’s arm and guiding her back to the HQ. Kaidan turns to look at her too, and with a big smile, jumps from the atrium, beckoning a surprised James to follow him. They move closer to the lonely figure, and James takes in the little details of her. The metallic shine of the prosthetic limbs, the dark curly locks covering part of her face. But when he is close enough to look at her, he stops breathing. Kaidan hugs her, raising her from the ground and making her turn around with him while giggling. “Is so good to see you outside that hospital.”

She smiles back when he puts her down, but instead of looking at him, she bore her gaze on the surprised James. “Is glad to be outside.”

James feels like thunderstruck. He will recognise that green eye everywhere, that husky voice, the lopsided grin… “I must be dreaming.”

Closing the distance to him, she offers her left hand, the one that is not artificial, waiting for him to take it. When he didn’t take, she just let it fall, avoiding his gaze and turning to face Kaidan. “I told you it was a bad idea, K. I’m going back to the apartment. See you later.”

Shepard is turning over her heels to leave when a pair of hands capture her, stopping her movement. A soft voice, barely a whisper, sounds behind her. “How is this possible?”

“Do you want the long or the short version?” She looks over her shoulder to find him with a deep frown on his face, keeping more distance than necessary. “I’ve been in a coma for years. No one knew who I was. No armour, no dog tags, no hair, and more scars than skin when they found me. I wake up two years ago, not knowing who I was, with a broken body and some missing parts. Six months ago, after all my physical therapy, I was free to go. And as soon as I begun to wander the streets of London, the memories begun to flow. I contacted my mum, then Kaidan and Garrus, and I was about to contact you when Kaidan explained me about the ceremony and how cool will be to surprise you with, well, me.”

No more than two heartbeats later, James' arms are wrapped around her, hard enough to hurt if the warm feeling of his hug didn’t erase any other feel. “Tell me I will not wake up again to find you are not here.”

Raising her cold metallic hand to his face, she cupped it, tilting her head to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’m here, and I don’t have any intention to leave for as long as you want this cripple girl beside you.”

Turning her over her heels to face him, he pulls her against his body, hands fixed on her back, lowering his face slow enough to give her the time to move away. But as soon as their lips are sealed, the world around them disappears. Any sound, any feeling, outside their kiss, is suppressed from their minds. It was like coming back home. Like the first day of summer, the first ray of sun after a cloudy winter. The first snowflake. The first sip of a good wine. It was perfection. They kiss until a soft cough from Kaidan enters their cloud of happiness, making them giggle when they break the kiss. James cups her face between his hands, fixing his eyes in the sparkling pool of emerald green of her eye. “It is really you. Damn, Lola, it is the greatest present I ever had.”

“Happy N7 day, my love.”

#n7 day #happy n7 day #fanfiction #mass effect #admiral hackett #James vega #Commander Shepard #angsty?#happy ending #<3

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