#wrestled with this on a four hour bus ride and it is finally done (and i've finally arrived đ )
Note
Daeron/Maglor "...because the world is ending"? đ
Hi @polutrope <3 This one one has been living in my docs as Daemags date night (the night to end all nights) for a month. Here it is at last!
The Night to End All Nights
Daeron had been deep into the roadless deserts, when Arien fell - her last blazing sunset had lit the dunes with dreadful beauty, rose sand purples and a red redder than red.
Then, the quiet. Handfuls of stars, snuffed out one after another.
He made his way onwards. Once, the land had not been desert; once, there had been paths of cobblestones paved with sound craft, and there had been chariots, carriages, riders and companies making their ways from glorious cities whose names were lost in the dust, removed from the world entirely, if not for Daeron's memory.
Daeron lived much in memory, now. There the dry well, there the empty streets of the empty city. Here, a deep-rooted peach tree had grown, where only a gray husk remained - he had gathered wild fruits from its generous boughs, shared them with an old enemy in the shelter of its shade, licked the juices from his fingertips and wrist and mouth until he shook as finely as the green leaves in the summer breeze.
Wherever he passed the land groaned with its own undoing.
Beleriand had been thus ruined, in its moribund years; but this was a ravaging wasting sickness, not a wound upon Arda to be solved with the amputation of one continent or another. Above and around and in all places a hundred, a thousand birds flew madly, till they dropped exhausted upon the last grass of the last spring.
The matter of the sky splintered and rained down great boulders of iron that shook and shattered the earth, smoldering with a fell fire, all the hard stone of the mountain ranges shaking and shaking like a single fevered body, bound up in strange resonances of power. One fell near enough to him that the raised dust clung to his lungs and fouled his throat for a time: and then Daeron grew afraid, for a time, shaken from the clear, beautiful rage against Morgoth into fright.
The cough passed, slowly.
The very air grew colder, made cruel without the sun. The waters grew wilder, without the moon; and all creatures grew despairing and violent, in the absence of starlight.
Still: Daeron went onwards. There was a great epilogue to judge - he was not a light-hearted critic, but he did intend to be there at the end, and at the start as well.
And he had an appointment to keep. They had agreed on this, a long time ago, and Daeron for his part was determined to cross crevasses as needed not to be the faithless one.
He had not thought Maglor would fail to be there. Not truly, in any case - not this time.
The land leaned towards the gaping of the world, its old longing for water calling out so starkly it was almost a song. This place had been full of life, once: a lake with many small islands, many new-made voices raised in song rippling the waters.
All the little water that remained reflected only darkness above, darkness around. Not enough remained of the waters of CuiviĂŠnen to be drunk. Daeronâs torch lit it like the flare of a false moon, fading as passed it by.
It was quite beautiful, in its way. All things were unraveling to Song at last: the last fields of grass clinging to the cliff-side called out a rustling wind-song even as they turned to ash, glorious a rush of Music with the memory of the seedâs patience in winter and the growing rush of spring turning to the conflagration of summer.
Daeron closed his eyes. Did he weep, at the beauty of it? He could not sing. It was not time, yet; his voice curled thick and urgent in his aching throat, waiting.
They met at the very edge of the shoreline, where the whitewater rush of the shattered Encircling Sea broke into the gaping maw of the Void. The fall was very steep, the precipice very high, taller than any tower ever wrought. The sound of the water was an unnerving, slithering quiet, for it fell through fogs and mists; and the fall had no end.
A single raised light flickered, there where crumbling stone and air met, but the burned hand that held it up did not flinch from the licking slants of wind-swept fire.
âYou are late,â Maglor said, chin raised. His voice, too, was less splendid than it might have been. Certainly less proud. Daeronâs heart turned in his chest, treacherously fond. âAnd I see you have not even brought any wine, either.â
âIt was your turn to bring the wine,â Daeron pointed out. His words rasped in his throat a little, at the start. âI brought it last time."
"Forgive me! If it is any consolation," Maglor said. "I crossed the lands where the marketplace where those sweet bean pastries you loved once stood. Alas! Nought but ruins remain. There, here, everywhere! I had half a mind to start without you."
"That is well enough," Daeron said. He felt a little drunk already, dizzy with terror and Maglor's proximity.
His face caught the torch light, his eyes very bright. Maglor smiled at him. It was an effort - he could see the ancient grief moving in his face, a depth like the strata of the earth being pressed away to make room for it.
They had met on appointed dates two dozen times altogether. By the white piers of Belfalas or the moors of Arnor, sharing the same flask under the vibrant stars of RhĂťnâs fields. Brushing knuckles; pressing their mouthâs where a touch had been, in the indulgent absurdity of second-hand lovemaking between two ancient creatures.
They had met. Not many times, but often enough; and always at the parting, regardless of how sweet or how bitter it might be, there was the renewed promise. We shall meet at the end! Even when it had been said in contempt and fury, and the end of the world not long enough to suit the dayâs rage.
It passed, the anger. When one lived as long as they did, it grew very difficult to cleave to anything for very long. Grief was a habit, and singing duty and care and craft; all the rest passed and thinned as mist in the sun. Until they met again - until they met each other, and all colours grew bright, the winds colder, the summers gentler.
Daeron waved it away, lightly, light-hearted. O, he felt mad, trapped against the great maw of the black night - but a strange thing very like a laugh trembled on his throat.
"I know I shall! That is not my concern. I knew you would not start without me,â Daeron said. "I could not doubt it. And yet I am glad that I was late; I could not know how much of gladness remained, before I saw your light in the dark, waiting."
âThen I am glad," Maglor said, and the salt that clung to his hair prickled Daeron's nose when he neared. "Though it was a cold wait, and the journey colder still. You give me too much credit. For once! But I could not tarry. There was nowhere else to walk to, nor any other place I could wish to be."
âIt is quite beautiful,â Daeron said, looking upon the cliffside. His eyes strained to see the scant starlight reflecting on the distant spray, silvering the night for brief instants. âIn its way.â
âThe sea was more beautiful,â Maglor said. "Its white sands and silver pebbles gleaming, and the black basalt sand of the Western islands. Gone, all gone! Now we are islanders only, the Encircling Sea the only sea; and its waters fall beyond reaching. I miss the sea-that-was, though it never did thank me for my company."
The mountains were gone. The fallow fields, and the valleys with their crumbling walls left abandoned in long lost days - the great cities of Men, one empire after another devoured by a greater and most ancient greed.
They had seen many kingdoms rise and fall together, over time; but there had been a constancy in that, not this absence of voices and wills, this death-bound silence.
It had not been often that they had wandered together for long. That was a thing neither of them could withstand easily - not they, minstrels to the dead, whose last elegiac duties were not suited to company. Their paths diverged, coming apart to come together again, and there had been joy too with every bitter parting. But they had agreed on this, under the light of the stars, Ages ago. CuiviĂŠnen, at the end of all things - this much, at least, when the time came, at the end.
Daeron laid a hand on his cheek, and felt the warmth of it with a dizzying desire. So it would be this, then, he thought. The last touch; the last kiss, soft as a balm, a vertiginous fall into an embrace from a height no lesser than the sundered face of the breaking world. Daeron held him close with fierce hands, chased the stains of bitter soot on Maglorâs heeks with his mouth, tangled his fingers in braidless curls as dark as the night.
The last, the last! His eyes stung. Daeron was greedy, at the last, covetous with love as had ever been his vice, slow to relinquish. Love renewed all things, even grief; though the grief of Arda's fall had seeped into him into a killing drought, and no more tears remained in him to be shed.
The Music murmured its own last notes, a soundless song of mingled joy and despair.
More despair, at the end, and Daeron had feared, feared, feared it tremendous, more than the Starkinder's defeat or the death of all fruiting trees. Wandering alone in the lightless dark, voice failing and nothing listening, he had thought on the Theme and feared there would not be enough of joy, in the end - had judged his purpose beyond himself, all of Melian's careful and wise tutelage wasted and worn through.
So it had been, in solitude.
"Sweet Daeron. Forgive me,â Maglor said once more, sighing against his neck. His solid warmth was no greater than the flame's, wavering much as Daeron wavered on his feet. "I bring no gifts, and my might is diminished. The melody is yours, if you like. It is not wine, but it might suit your tastes as well, or better."
"It shall be," Daeron said. He knew it as he spoke, and almost laughed for how clear it was to him; he gripped Maglor's hand tightly. "But not mine alone, I judge; for are we not both singers of laments? One last paeon, then: and let not all things that were good and great and terrible fall unremembered, while there is breath with which to sing them."
Above them and around them the last stars went pale, and weary, and dead. The two torches flared, faded, lost the last of their fire.
Then, the quiet. Daeron stepped back. Raised a hand, to mark the time.
It was very easy, after all, to sing together at the end of all things: easy as summer, even in the dark.
#daeron#maglor#daeron/maglor#my fic#the silmarillion fanfic#daemags#wrestled with this on a four hour bus ride and it is finally done (and i've finally arrived đ )
56 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Death
Oh boy here we are. Hereâs what I have to present for the @summer-of-whump day 12 prompt Death, aka, the prompt that made me want to take on this challenge. I feared I wouldnât be done with it today but he we are, with that sweet sweet emotional whump
CW: Parental death, sibling death, child abuse, verbal abuse, suicidal ideation, brief mention of deadnaming, all of it is under a cut because Eliâs mom starts off mean right away
***
âYou know, for a long time, we thought you were going to be stupid.â
Eli looked up from the paper he was working on, taking a moment to process what his mother had just said. She usually didnât talk to him much when he came to visit, ever since Everett had stopped coming sheâd gotten even colder towards him. He spent most of his time working on homework in between getting her anything he could and doing favors for her, especially with finals coming up fast. He put down his pencil, sitting up straighter in the chair he sat in beside her bed.
âWhy⌠why do you say thatâŚ?â
âYou didnât talk when you were little. I donât think you did until you were three or four, no matter what we tried. We started to think you would never learn.â
âI talked to EverettâŚâ He didnât have a lot of memories that far back, but he remembered babbling away to Everett, and going silent when his parents were around. According to his brother, his first word had been an attempt at saying his name, but it came out as âEvâettâ. He shorted it to Ev to make it easier on Eli.
âThatâs what he said too, but we never heard it. You didnât start talking to us until just before your father left.â He resisted the urge to make a sad joke about driving him away.
âOh⌠I donât see how that couldâve meant I was stupidâŚâ He muttered, looking down at his paper again.
âClearly it didnât. I was so relieved that you turned out smart. Your brother tried his best but he was never really good at school, not the way you are.â
âI⌠thanksâŚ?â He wasnât sure if it was exactly a compliment or not, it was always hard to tell with her.
âSpeaking of your brother,â She said, and he tried to hide the pain on his face when she turned to look at him, âHave you heard from himâŚ?â She asked, sounding hopeful, and it broke his heart.
âNo, Iâm sorryâŚâ He said softly. She looked even more upset, and he felt sick with guilt. He knew what happened to Everett, of course he knew, he hadnât been able to stop thinking about it since heâd heard the news, but he couldnât bring himself to tell his mom the truth. He didnât know what it would do to her, to hear that her favorite son was dead.
âI wish he were hereâŚâ
âI do too.â He wished that more than anybody else, he wouldâve given anything to have Everett there. He felt like he needed him more than ever now that he was gone. He felt worse and worse when he looked at her, she looked sick and upset all the time, she was sick, and he couldnât imagine what she mustâve been feeling, not knowing where Everett was. Eli had been wrestling with it ever since he found out, he didnât know if it was better or worse to keep the truth to himself.
âHe was always easier to talk to than you.â She said, a bitter edge to her voice that made his heart sink. He opened his mouth but didnât have anything to say, his hand clenching into a fist. âI wish he were here. Whatever happened to him, it shouldâve been you.â She said, giving him a look of pure disdain. âIâd trade you for him in a heartbeat.â
He didnât say anything at first, stunned into silence, frozen in place as her words sunk in.
It shouldâve been you.
You should be dead, not him.
Sheâs right.
He stood up abruptly, grabbing his things and furiously shoving them into his backpack. He was shaking, a wave of anger washing over him.
âFine.â He said, hardly even in control of what he said. âI donât need to be here then.â He slung his backpack over his shoulder, not even looking at her as he left. She was calling his name- not his name, it had been changed for two years now and she still didnât bother, which only made him angrier. She didnât sound apologetic, just irritated, which drove him away quicker, storming out of the room and leaving the hospital.
He was shaking with anger as he waited at the bus stop, he couldnât remember the last time sheâd pissed him off this much. It likely wasnât even that long ago, but this seemed to have finally crossed a line, being the worst thing sheâd said to him thus far. He couldnât brush it off, the words felt like a weight on his shoulders, It shouldâve been you.
The bus ride home was a blur, lost in his own miserable thoughts. He was getting more and more upset the longer he dwelled on it, and by the time he got home he was slamming the front door behind him, doing the same when he walked into his bedroom, throwing his backpack on his bed so hard it smacked against the wall. At least he didnât have anything valuable in there.
He dropped onto his desk chair, taking his phone from his pocket. A part of him still desperately hoped heâd check it and see Everettâs name pop up, but of course there wasnât anything. He dropped his phone onto the desk and tested his elbows on it, burying his face in his hands. For once he was so mad he couldnât even cry, which was extremely rare for him. He just sat there, trembling, trying and failing to calm down.
Sheâs right. Sheâs right. Itâs shouldâve been me, I shouldnât be here, I donât fucking deserve to be here.
After some time he grabbed his backpack, pulling out half finished papers and a textbook, trying to distract himself. It wasnât helping as much as he wanted, but it was still better than nothing. He just needed time to calm down, he knew that. He got mad at his mom all the time, but after a day or two heâd be over it, or at least, too tired to care anymore, and then heâd be able to go back, and the cycle would repeat.
He knew it wasnât his best work as he did it, but at least it was mind numbing enough he finally stopped shaking. He took a quick break from it after a few hours, wandering around the small apartment, searching through the kitchen for something to eat. He didnât find anything, and he tried to tell himself he wasnât hungry anyway, eventually returning to his room.
The words didnât leave the back of his mind but as the hours passed he grew more and more numb to them, filing them away with the rest of the hurtful things sheâd said to him. Disappointment, unwanted, annoying, needy, âShouldâve been youâ. He could imagine how angry Everett wouldâve been to hear that, he wouldâve comforted him, he wouldâve spoken to their mother about it. It wouldnât have fixed anything, but at least he cared.
Eli considered himself an atheist, but he found himself wondering if there was some sort of afterlife the way some people talked about it, about loved ones watching over you. He wondered if such a thing existed, and if it did, if Everett had heard that. He almost hoped not, he didnât need to be worrying over Eli anymore. There wasnât anything he could do now anyway.
It was late that night, he was only still awake because he knew trying to go to bed would make everything come back, make him feel even worse. At some point his phone rang, causing him to jump, startled by the sound. Nobody ever called him but Everett and their mom, he didnât recognize the number immediately but he answered anyway with a hesitant, âH-helloâŚ?â
Whatever he was expecting to hear, it wasnât what the person told him. In fact he seemed to only pick up on the important parts, everything else drowned out by the pounding of his own heart.
âSheâs not doing wellâ... âShould come say goodbyeâ... âbest to do so as soon as possibleâŚâ
He wanted to say that was impossible. She was fine when he left that afternoon, there was no way her condition couldâve gotten that bad that quickly. No, it wasnât impossible, there had been a scare before, but thatâs all it was, just a scare, something she recovered from. Surely sheâd recover from this too, right? Sheâd recover and they would go back to having a tense relationship. A part of him felt tempted to go though, just in case.
âWhatever happened to him, it shouldâve been you.â
âI canât.â He blurted out. He didnât have a reason for it, while he was typically good at lying he was at a complete loss here. âI canât.â He repeated, and without waiting for them to respond, he hung up, sitting there as silence settled over him. He was shaking again, he realized, and he set his phone down on the desk, taking a slow, shuddering breath.
He couldnât do it right now. He knew he couldnât see her without breaking down completely, without snapping and starting a fight. Quite honestly though, he didnât want to see her anyway. He usually minimized the things she said to him, brushed them off and told himself they werenât that bad but this was bad. She didnât know what happened to Everett, she couldnât have known what she was saying, but still, when she said the words âit shouldâve been youâ all he heard was âyou should be dead.â
He knew that she was right. He agreed completely. But that didnât make it easier on him, and that didnât make him anymore inclined to see her in what may be her final moments.
He stayed right there all night, sitting cross legged in his desk chair, tense and angry and upset. The sun was rising and he was still sitting there, knowing he should be at the hospital, knowing he should be more worried than he actually was.
It was exactly 7:32 a.m. when his phone rang again. He was numb when he answered it, and deep down he already knew what he was going to hear.
âIâm so sorryâ... âWe did everything we couldâ... âSheâs passed away.â
***
It seemed as if he had shut down, because the reality of her death didnât hit him until months later. By that point heâd started working, moved into a new, nicer apartment, he didnât have to rely on his father anymore which meant they never spoke.
Iâm completely alone.
He was laying in bed, staring up blankly at his ceiling. He still hasnât unpacked most of his things, the room was filled with boxes. He really only had his bed and his desk, his clothes, and his important stuffed animals. His apartment was silent, the walls were thicker in this building so he couldnât hear every little thing going on around him.
I donât have any family. Any friends. Just myself.
He clutched his shark close in one arm, and the other hand tightly gripped his blanket. Tears welled up in his eyes, all the pain and grief heâd bottled up since Everettâs death finally overflowing.
Iâm all alone.
My family is dead.
It shouldâve been me.
#whump#my writing#summerofwhump12#my ocâs#Wren#parental death tw#sibling death tw#child abuse tw#verbal abuse tw#suicidal ideation
22 notes
¡
View notes
Text
How to Fake a Marriage: Ch 40
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Â 10 Â 11 Â 12 Â 13 Â 14 Â 15 Â 16 Â 17 Â 18 Â 19 Â 20 Â 21 22 Â 23 Â 24 Â 25 Â 26 Â 27 Â 28 Â 29 Â 30 Â 31 Â 32 Â 33 Â 34 Â 35 Â 36 Â 37 Â 38Â 39Â Â
(AO3) (FF.net)
Nino was jittering almost nonstop. While Adrien couldn't blame him, it was starting to attract some stares.
"I just can't believe she's home," Nino told him as they waited for Alya in the Paris airport's baggage claim area. "I mean, I've known her schedule and when she was going to be coming home for months, but I've gotten so used to hearing from her when she's traveling and telling me where she's off to next for a week that to hear that she's coming home properly, and I can wake up next to her every morning..." Nino shook his head, grinning. "It was something I really took for granted before she left. I didn't think about how different it would be to start my day without Alya right next to me, even if we don't always talk much when we're getting ready for work. It's just- all these little things that I didn't notice after living together for two years that just really tripped me up when she wasn't there."
Adrien nodded. Although he couldn't admit it, he knew what Nino meant. Even if Marinette had gotten up before he had, he could still tell that she had been there. Waking up truly on his own when he was home was different, and it definitely wasn't something that he preferred.
Even if waking up with Marinette occasionally draped across his chest and making it hard to breath (or the inevitable cuddling, even in summer months) wasn't always sunshine and roses, he preferred it to his lonely bed.
"So I'm looking forward to all of the little things most, I think," Nino finished. He grinned. "And once Alya's rested up, I'm looking forward to splitting meal duty again. There's some things that she makes that I don't dare touch, and I've been rotating through the same menu ever since she left."
"That's the best part of splitting cooking duties." Adrien checked his phone. Marinette had said that she would be arriving soon- dress shopping with Mylène had run over and so she hadn't been able to hitch a ride with him to the airport- and he wanted to make sure that she would be able to find them. There were no messages yet, though, so maybe she was still on the bus to the airport. "That, and not having to eat the same thing for a week straight."
"Do you think you'll find an apartment to share with Marinette when you two move back, then?" Nino wanted to know. "So you two can keep cooking together?"
Of course, Adrien wanted to say. They wanted to stay together, and they certainly wouldn't be able to have their privacy if they stayed in his old room at his father's house and they wouldn't have enough space long-term for both of them plus Marinette's designing if they stayed in her old room. Besides, they wouldn't want to impose on her parents. But Nino didn't know that they were dating, so instead Adrien settled on a "Maybe. I'd have to ask her."
Nino shook his head, utterly exasperated. "You two might as well be married, really. You're glued at the hip anyway."
Adrien only grinned. If only Nino knew...
Adrien's phone buzzed then, and he hurried to pull it out. There was only a short message from Marinette.
At airport. Headed inside.
Shoving his phone back in his pocket, Adrien immediately looked up and started glancing around. After a minute, he spotted Marinette in the crowd nearest to the door and rolled up on his toes to wave to her. She spotted him and waved back, hurrying towards them.
Next to him, Nino craned his neck. "What? Did you see Alya?"
"No, Marinette. And Alya's plane isn't scheduled to land for another..." Adrien checked his watch. "Five minutes, if it's on time. And Alya said that she would text you when she landed, yeah?"
"Right, sorry. I got excited." Nino settled back down. "I gotta say thanks to you guys for coming to Paris for this. I would have been a mess waiting here by myself."
"Could Alya's family not made it at all?"
Nino shook his head. "The twins are busy with school, her mom had a huge catering event that she couldn't get out of, and her father was supposed to come but then the zoo's panther came down sick and he couldn't get away. He did lend me his car, though, so that we wouldn't have to wrestle with all of Alya's things on the bus." He winced. "It was just a whole slew of unfortunate timing, really. We'll swing past the zoo on our way home so that they can see each other for a bit, and then we'll go to the hotel to see her mom, and then we'll go to their place for dinner."
Adrien laughed as Marinette scooted up to his side. "Alya's going to be dead on her feet after all of that."
"You aren't just going to let Alya sleep when she gets home?" Marinette asked. She looked a bit harried, hair more ruffled than normal and clothes a bit rumpled. "Does she know that?"
Nino grinned. "Yeah, I told her last week, and she approved the plan. Of course, that was before she got on an 18-hour flight."
They all laughed.
"So how was your day?" Adrien asked Marinette. "You look a bit worse for wear."
"Gee, thanks." Marinette rolled her eyes at him. "It was all right. We did find Mylène's dress, though, so there's that."
Adrien grinned at the news and Nino looked over, finally distracted from Alya's impending arrival. "Oh, that's great! She was really hoping to find something today, wasn't she?"
Marinette nodded. "She really was. Mylène was completely burned out when we started since we hadn't had much success before, but then we looked back at some of the dresses that she had liked parts of and she found a skirt that she really liked and a top that was almost perfect, and they can be combined together for a nearly perfect dress."
One of Adrien's eyebrows quirked upwards. "You keep saying almost. What was wrong with it?"
"The top- it's this gorgeously cut halter top with a kind of low back, and Mylène has two moles on her back that she doesn't want showing," Marinette explained. "She doesn't like having her entire back exposed like that. So I came up with this idea of having an Eiffel Tower made of lace fill in that space a little bit. And then there can be some more of the lace in four flare panels on the skirt, which would tie the design in more. It would replace the existing lace, and then we asked- well, I recommended, and then Mylène asked- for the gold beading to be replaced with silver."
"Wait, so did you actually find a lace Eiffel Tower to fit in the area?" Nino asked, looking properly interested. "Or is this something that you would make?"
Marinette looked sheepish. Adrien sighed, but he couldn't help but smile fondly at her. "You really couldn't resist, could you?"
Nino laughed.
"It'll make the dress perfect!" Marinette protested. "And it's easy to make, too. I have the dimensions that I need to make sure that the thicker section for the first floor will be right where it needs to be to cover the moles. Mylène loved the idea, because then she gets to have a fairly open back that she's still comfortable with. So she has the new dress on order, and I'll make the lace sections as soon as I can." There was a pause. "Uh, but I might need to ask Madam Rosalie if I can use one of the company machines to do it. I'm sure she'll say yes, as long as they aren't needed."
"What are you going to do when you aren't at Madam Rosalie's anymore?" Adrien teased. "You won't have access to all of those lovely machines of hers."
Marinette stuck her tongue out at him. "I'll figure things out. And once I get into a new design house, then hopefully they would have the same kinds of machines. If not, well..." Marinette threw up her hands. "I'd be really tempted to buy ones of my own, but they're so expensive!"
"So will you be too burned out to help Alya find her dress?" Nino asked, grinning at Marinette. "I've heard that it's taken a couple outings."
"Oh, gosh." Marinette looked exhausted. "Yeah, Mylène had too many friends and cousins along for our first trip, so it was a complete bust. They all had ideas for shapes they wanted to see, and they were all wrong for her." She paused. "When is Alya going to go dress shopping?"
"Well-" Nino glanced around, then turned back to them. "We were thinking of telling you guys together, but as long as we're talking about it- Alya and I are going to get married this spring. So I'm guessing that she'll start looking at dresses pretty soon."
Marinette's eyes were huge, and Adrien was sure that his were the same. Sure, they had known that there was a possibility that Nino and Alya would go for the shorter turn-around, but they had thought it wouldn't be terribly likely. After all, Alya had stuff she had to get done for the newspaper, and there were a few final leads for her research that she wanted to follow up on before she forgot about them. The two of them had talked about moving to a new apartment shortly after Alya's return, too, or at least within a few months, and that was another big thing on their plate.
It would be a lot, even without the wedding planning.
"I just- wow, you guys must be superheroes to be able to balance all of that," Adrien told Nino. He smothered the grin that came with the words so that Nino wouldn't notice anything off.
Marinette noticed, though. Adrien heard her exasperated huff by his side and had to keep from grinning at that, too, especially when her fingers jabbed into his ribs.
"Well, we're going to be keeping it fairly simple. Church wedding so we can have both wedding and reception there instead of having to find some venue for both that actually has an opening when we want it, for one." Nino nodded like that was a big decision off of their backs. Adrien and Marinette waited for more...and got nothing.
"And...?" Marinette prompted. "Flowers, food, dress, suit, decorations...?"
"Tablecloths, napkins, style of silverware?" Adrien added, grinning wider when he got an elbow to the stomach from both Nino and Marinette.
"I think the church has a standard set of tablecloths and napkins and silverware that they use, thank-you-very-much," Nino sniffed. "But we can ask, I guess. It would be good to make sure. And we were planning on ordering the croquembouche tower from your parents' place, Marinette- we'll talk to them about that soon and figure out flavors, I guess. See, we have been planning."
Adrien applauded sarcastically. Nino elbowed him again.
"Look, Alya's flight just landed," Marinette cut in before Adrien could start listing off other details required for wedding planning, just for the express purpose of bugging Nino. "Nino, how big of a plane is it? How long should we expect it to take for Alya to get off?"
Nino groaned. "I don't know. It might be a while. I don't think she's near the back of the plane, though, so there's that." His phone buzzed and he pulled it out. "It's Alya. She said that it might take a good ten minutes before she can get off, and then there's the getting through the airport."
"So that's, what, a good fifteen to twenty minutes of time for us to quiz you about stationary for wedding invitations," Adrien said, grinning. "So, have you decided what kind of parchment you're going to use?"
  By the time Alya arrived, Nino had a whole list of things for him and Alya to think about for their wedding written up and looked about ready to throttle Adrien, who was helpfully not helping matters by asking about matching pocket squares for the men and table centerpieces for the reception.
"Do I even want to know?" Alya asked in exasperation after she had given Nino a kiss. "Marinette? Do I even want to know what these two clowns have been getting up to?"
"Adrien's not being helpful," Nino said right away, before Marinette could say anything. "I regret inviting him along. Is it too late for me to find another Best Man?"
They all laughed as Adrien spluttered.
"No, we do have a lot to consider," Alya admitted as soon as she spotted the list Nino held and caught on to what was going on. "I knew that as soon as we decided not to wait a year. But at least next year should be calmer. And we already decided to put the honeymoon off for a bit, since I've already been traveling so much recently."
"We both did," Nino added. "Since I've taken several weeks off of work in the last few months to visit. So we might wait for next winter and go somewhere warm and sunny, or go on our first anniversary or something. We didn't discuss that part too much yet. We've been busy."
"And we're about to get busier, even if we'll be in the same place." Alya ran a hand through her hair. "But let us have a few days to relax first! I need to shower, and I need to sleep. When are you two taking off?"
"Tonight. We have work and school tomorrow!" Marinette added when Alya's expression dropped. "We already took today off, and we're going to be missing more, I'm assuming, with coming back to help you guys with wedding stuff."
"Of course, of course." Alya stepped over to give both of them a hug. "I'm so looking forward to when you two are back in Paris and we can just see you whenever. That's, what- five months yet?"
"Four and a half?" Adrien suggested, exchanging a look with Marinette. "Yeah, that sounds right."
"Four and a half," Alya repeated. "That's so long, unless you're talking four and a half months to plan a wedding. In that case, it's short."
"And you don't even have that," Adrien pointed out. "Good luck with that, really."
Alya waved an airy hand. "Oh, my mom and Nino's are working to put together a list of relatives to invite and we've got a list of our friends already. We're not doing super extended family or anything, so it shouldn't be too large of a crowd. We'll be fine."
"I'll take your word for it." Adrien grinned as Alya turned and they followed her to the luggage carousel. "And I'll be a listening ear for when you decide to panic because your candlestick holders are lopsided or something."
"Candlestick holders? Is that what you've been bugging Nino about? Marinette, control your boy."
  Alya practically talked their ears off as Nino navigated their way out of the airport and back towards their section of the city. She wanted to know which of her vlogs they had watched (all of them, Alya), and then dove into a deeper detailing of some of the users that she had found most interesting.
"I've got so much material to go through for my articles for the paper, and then I gotta organize it for my book," Alya finally finished as they pulled in to a spot in the zoo's parking lot. "Like, I could go on for days. The vlogs I posted were just barely scratching the surface, really. And I got so much traffic on the Ladyblog for those. I'm still getting a lot of traffic, more than I've gotten for years. The ads I decided to put on the site are actually earning me a decent amount of money now."
"Are you going to keep doing the vlogs?" Adrien asked as they all piled out and headed for the zoo's employee entrance. "Like, just updates on what you're working on? I'm sure people would love to hear hints about your work and see more of those awesome drawings."
Alya laughed. "I gotta keep some stuff secret for my book! But maybe I could do little updates every two weeks or something, depending on how busy I am. I might only be able to manage once a month for the next few months," she added, glancing over at Nino. "Since I've got the wedding planning to do, too. But yeah, it would keep some interest in the Ladyblog going, and keep people interested in my book."
"It's a good way to keep the Ladyblog active while Ladybug and Chat Noir are out of the country, too," Nino chimed in. "For however long they'll be gone. And there hasn't been even the slightest whisper of where they might have gone. They've shown up during the holidays, and that's it. Oh, and Alya- your father said to meet him by the panther cage."
"Sweet!" Alya pulled a key out of her pocket and let them in the door, then led the way towards the panther enclosure. "And speaking of the superheroes- so you all saw the picture they submitted to the Ladyblog, right? Of them kissing at Christmas?" Alya let out a little squeal. "It was so cute! They're adorable together. I wonder how soon they'll be getting married."
Nino laughed. "Alya, they've only been together for, what? A year?"
"They've been confirmed for a year, but they could have been together for ages before that!" Alya was in full Ladynoir shipper mode, her face alight with enthusiasm. "They might have been together for years but have just been keeping it on the down-low. Either way, they're perfect for each other. Why wait?"
Marinette glanced towards Adrien and wasn't surprised to see him glancing back towards her, a small smile playing on his lips. She felt her cheeks flush and she glanced away for a second, suddenly feeling unreasonably shy.
"ALYA!"
The moment was broken when Alya's father spotted them. He was washing his hands and arms and wearing an apron. He shed it and quickly came towards them, scooping Alya up in a hug and swinging her around. Alya gave a delighted laugh, hugging her father back as he set her down. He gave her another hug, then released her to get a good look at the ring on her finger. Nino stepped closer with a grin and was given a hug as well. Marinette watched with a fond smile, pulling her coat tighter as a chilly wind blew across the zoo.
Adrien was at her side in an instant. "Are you cold?"
"Only when there's a wind." She stepped closer to his side, but not too close. They had gone for a year and a half without arousing too much suspicion from their friends in France, and now Marinette was determined to make it the rest of the way. "I'll be fine, kitty. I promise."
"If you say so."
Soon enough, Alya's father had to return to his work and they were on the way to the Grand Paris. Marinette noticed Adrien scanning Chloe's social media as they drew closer and raised an eyebrow at him in question.
"I just don't want to run into Chloe," Adrien admitted with a sheepish grin. "But it sounds like she's in the middle of a spa day right now, so we should be all right. From what I remember of her, when Chloe spends the day at the spa, she spends the entire day."
Nino laughed. "You'll have to deal with her occasionally when you come back to Paris."
"Yeah, but I can wait until then, believe me." Adrien pocketed his phone, zipping the pocket back up to keep it safe. "I think she's gotten worse over the years. I thought she would grow out of it."
Alya made a bit of a face at that, then shrugged. Her eyes caught on Adrien's coat then, and she gave it a proper look over. "Hey, that doesn't look like one of your father's designs. It looks nice, though."
Adrien grinned, and Marinette couldn't hide the pleased smile when he smoothed a hand down the front of the coat proudly. "Yeah! It's Marinette's design. I love it. I've brought all of my other coats back to Paris to leave here, since it's all I'm going to wear for the rest of the season."
"You don't say."
"Well, all of the coats that my dad picks out for me are boring," Adrien complained. "I mean, they look nice, but he's known for a fairly strict style most of the time. Strict and clean and classic. I like the imagination in Marinette's designs more."
They didn't stay at the Grand Paris for long, because Mrs. Cesare had to get back in the kitchen to help prep for a particularly large catering event. Their final stop was at Alya and Nino's apartment, which had only gotten more stuffed with things since the last time they had visited.
"I've been bringing back stuff that she bought back whenever I visit," Nino explained to Adrien and Marinette as they all piled in. "And she went to a lot of places, so..."
"He would come with a half-empty suitcase and leave with a bursting one, every time," Alya said with a laugh. "And there were a few things that I shipped. I'm not normally a huge shopper, but there's only so many times when I'll be able to travel like that."
"So you guys get to be buried under a pile of stuff until you find a new place," Adrien summed up. "And you get to plan a wedding like that. Uh, have you considered renting out a storage unit to use until you can actually move? Because add in wedding magazines and you trying to get your research in order to all of this- plus anything to look at apartment listings- and you'll be wasting half of your time trying to find stuff."
"That's not a bad idea, really. It would make moving easier, too if we don't have to pack up and move everything at the same time." Nino glanced around their living room area. "I'll look into that, actually. Right away. And then we can maybe invite Ivan and Mylène over to help move stuff and pick their brains about wedding planning."
Marinette laughed. "You know that they're giving themselves a full year to plan and order things. Mylène ordered her dress earlier today, and they aren't getting married until fall."
"Yeah, but they've done research. And they would actually be helpful with sharing it, unlike Mr. Candlestick Holder over here." Nino gave Adrien a stink eye. Adrien only snickered in response. "And they did say that we could call them up to brainstorm together, though they don't know what kind of schedule we're planning on and- wait, don't you remember that?" Nino asked when Alya looked puzzled. "It was when they were congratulating us. Maybe you just forgot about it because Ladybug and Chat Noir sent in their congratulations right after and you were too busy squeeing over that to pay attention to other stuff."
Adrien and Marinette exchanged a grin. They had posted a photo that they had taken while transformed of themselves holding up a card congratulating the Ladyblogger on her engagement after she made a short post on the Ladyblog sharing the news. They had both gotten excited texts from Alya over that, though the Ladyblogger was slightly disappointed that the photo, which had been taken in front of a plain white wall, hadn't given her any clues about where the superheroes were.
"The people I was working with then actually sent someone over to check and make sure that I was okay," Alya admitted, giggling a little at the memory. "They thought that I had injured myself somehow or something, and I had to explain what was going on. They responded so quickly, too!" Alya added. "Like, within a day. That means that they're paying attention to the Ladyblog and my research, and that's so cool!" She spun around in a circle, grinning widely. Nino grinned, amused by his fiancĂŠe's enthusiasm, and then edged past her to bring the first of her suitcases back towards their bedroom.
"So if you're done spinning, I have something for you and Nino to open before Adrien and I have to leave," Marinette said, glancing at the clock. Adrien had already pulled his phone out to summon the Gorilla to bring them to the train station. She handed Alya the large, lumpy package that she had carried up the stairs. "It's a joint Christmas gift."
"Cool!"
As soon as Nino returned, he and Alya pulled the wrapping paper off of their present, and Marinette grinned as she watched their jaws drop once the quilt came into view.
"This is- wow, Marinette," Alya finally managed. She unfolded the quilt partway, draping it over their knees. "This is so pretty! And it's huge, so it'll cover our bed easily. I love it!"
"Look, Alya- that's the date we got together," Nino pointed out, running his fingers over the stitched date. "And the cat face- so cute! And then- oh, this is our first date, with the ice cream."
"It's a- what did you call it, Marinette? A double ring wedding quilt?" Adrien asked, looking at Marinette for confirmation, and she nodded. "A traditional wedding gift."
"It's gorgeous. I absolutely love it," Alya told them. "And we'll definitely appreciate it, since our bedroom here is a little drafty."
Marinette was grinning, clearly thrilled with their reactions.
"There are more of our dates on here," Nino announced. He had been steadily working his way across the chains, apparently having caught on to the pattern of where Marinette had had her quilter sew. "The big things, like the night I had my first gig as a DJ and then we had a date afterwards, and that time we went on that hike and then shared a tent afterwards, and- oh! Here's our engagement day, in the second to last ring."
"I'll fill in the date for your wedding once you decide," Marinette told them. "I had my quilter do the rest, but it'll be easy enough to finish up that bit. She told me what kind and color of thread she used so that it'll match."
"Oh, cool!" Alya was inspecting the dates as well now. "I love it! It's really personalized for us. How on earth did you remember all of these?"
"I looked back at my diary for those years for most of them," Marinette told them, still beaming proudly. "I had a general idea of when it was for a lot of the dates, but I didn't know the exact date until I looked it up."
"I love it!" Alya exclaimed again. She jumped up to hug Marinette. "Seriously. Best gift ever."
  As always, their visit had to be cut too short. Adrien had classes the next day and notes to catch up on, and Marinette had to be back at work. They had said their good-byes to their friends and made them promise to keep the two of them updated on the planning progress.
And then they were back on the Eurostar, headed for London.
"I can't believe they went for the get married in under a year option," Adrien said with a bit of a laugh once they were settled and the train was underway. "Absolutely insane. But at least it'll keep them busy in Paris, so we won't have to worry about them coming over and. Uh." He glanced around, suddenly realizing that maybe it wasn't a fantastic idea to blurt out anything about their living arrangements while out in public. He scrambled for a way to better finish his sentence. "And we'll have plenty of excuses to go back to Paris to help and to get our things back there."
"It's going to be a matter of balancing trips back with spending enough time in London," Marinette pointed out. "You have your studies and I have my commissions. And it would be expensive to travel back and forth every weekend to help."
"Not to mention tiring," Adrien agreed. "And they'll have their families to help, and other friends. Alya's dress shopping might be hard, though, if she wants your help."
Marinette sighed. "It will be. And she can't drag that out forever, even if she is going with the off-the-rack option. She'll need to get it fitted, and that takes time. So I might need her to send me pictures, or maybe we can video chat or something."
"I'm sure you'll figure it out." Adrien patted her arm, clearly restraining himself from wrapping his arm around her shoulders instead. "You said that you would tell her what kinds of shapes to look at, right? So she can use that to narrow her options down and then you can come in and help her make a final decision."
"Well, she'll be the one making the final decision. I'm mostly there to give feedback and steer her and her consultant in the right direction." Marinette flopped back in her seat. "Man, if they could have waited, I would have been able to go dress shopping with her in person, and we wouldn't have to worry about the whole scheduling thing."
Adrien just gave her shoulder another sympathetic pat.
It was dark by the time their train pulled in at the station, just in time to only just miss their bus.
"Great," Adrien groaned, rubbing his grumbling stomach. "Just great. Now we'll have to wait, what? Half an hour?"
Marinette was glancing around. The area near the train station was bustling, as was normal, but there weren't a ton of people out an about, since it was cold and damp and miserable. If they went even a street over, they might be able to duck into an alleyway unnoticed. From there, they could transform and just hope that people had their blinds closed and wouldn't look up when they were walking in the street.
And if they did...well, hopefully the Ladyblogger was too busy in Paris to hop a train over to London and investigate.
With Adrien still grumbling and looking around, Marinette snagged his arm and pulled him along the sidewalk. He yelped, then caught on to what she was thinking and immediately trotted after her, trying not to look like he had just thought that someone was attempting to abduct him. It didn't take long for them to find a suitable alleyway, and then Ladybug and Chat Noir were bounding over the rooftops, each lugging a suitcase in one hand.
"Uh, do you know the way?" Chat Noir asked after a few minutes of jumping over streets and scrambling to keep his balance on snow-slick rooftops. "I honestly have no clue where we're supposed to go."
Ladybug giggled. "I don't know either. I was just planning on going in this general direction for a bit and then checking my yo-yo to see how much I had to alter my course. Which-" She landed on a rooftop and paused, flipping open her yo-yo to see a map of their section of London. "We need to be headed a bit more to the left."
"And how much farther do we have to go?"
"At the speed we were going? Ten more minutes, tops." Ladybug picked up her suitcase and started running again. "Ugh, I wish the suitcases could have gotten sucked into our transformation. Running with them is a pain."
Chat Noir could only nod and wince as his suitcase twisted in his hand and whacked a chimney as they passed. They would be lucky if they weren't spotted- or, worse, reported to the police as suspected intruders. Normally they were a whole lot quieter and a lot more agile.
"I kind of feel like I've been hit by Reverser again," Ladybug said with a bit of a giggle as her suitcase knocked loudly against another rooftop. "I haven't felt this clumsy as Ladybug for ages."
"I wish we had brought backpacks or something. Or cord, to turn our suitcases into backpacks."
"Oh, that would be a fashion statement."
A wet snow started falling as the two superheroes made their way across London, making the roofs even slicker. Chat Noir had to reach out and grab Ladybug at one point when she started sliding on the shingles, nearly losing his grip on his suitcase in the process.
"Almost there," Ladybug managed, struggling to her feet. "I can see our building. I'd say if we can get a block closer, that's good enough. Then we can drop down and detransform and just walk."
"Sounds like a plan!"
Getting down from the rooftops didn't go much more smoothly than running and jumping across them. Ladybug slipped and fell most of the way before catching herself, bending a gutter rather badly in the process when her yo-yo snagged on it.
"I'll have to come back and fix that some other night," Marinette said with a sigh once they had detransformed. She peered up through the snow- sleet, practically- at the damaged gutter. "Hopefully I can just yank it back into shape."
"It's amazing that we didn't leave a trail of bent gutters and broken shingles behind us when we were fighting in Paris," Adrien commented, pulling up his hood against the weather. "Or broken statues and chimneys from your yo-yo."
"I think Lucky Charm fixed a lot of damage," Marinette pointed out. They stepped out into the street, pulling their suitcases along the slushy sidewalk. "Because my yo-yo definitely broke a lot of stuff. The Eiffel Tower, for one."
Adrien sniggered. "Out of context, that sounds absolutely ludicrous," he said, grinning. "A yo-yo, take down the Eiffel Tower? But it is crazy strong."
"Most of the akumas we fought sounded just as crazy." Now that they were history, Marinette could laugh thinking back on some of the designs. "There was the giant baby, Mr. Pigeon-"
"Oh, but he was terrifying. To my nose, at least."
"You are a terrible cat."
Adrien only laughed.
As they rolled into their building, one of the wheels on Adrien's suitcase, abused beyond what it could take, popped off and rolled into a corner. Adrien groaned and ditched his listing suitcase to go after it. When he held it up, Marinette had to laugh.
"I'm gonna have to get new wheels," Adrien grumbled, coming back with the dinged-up wheel in hand. A chunk of it was straight-up missing, presumably from a direct hit to a chimney. "I mean, they weren't in great shape before, but I think they aged twenty years in a single trip across London, and- oh, crud." Adrien had turned his suitcase over to try to replace the wheel and found the axle bent way out of whack. "Okay, can we take the elevator? This suitcase is a mess."
"Of course." Marinette led the way to the elevators, her own suitcase wobbling unevenly behind her. "C'mon, kitty. Let's get home and then we can fix everything up."
#Miraculous Ladybug#My writing#Adrien Agreste#Marinette Dupain-Cheng#How to Fake a Marriage#are links working again? pls say yes#...the answer appears to be no#c'mon tumblr whitelist ao3 and ff.net#...too many links maybe?
26 notes
¡
View notes
Text
@fereality-indy
As he replaced the gas pump and flicked the fuel fill-up door closed, Dipper peered down the road toward Oregon. After eight hours of driving, his summer home was almost within reach.
âŚbarring the fact that it was late November and freezing. Normally he would spend Thanksgiving home with his family, but he knew that Wendy was finally â finally! â going home for the holidays. After an extra semester at college, her degree was done and he was determined to surprise her.
Dipper tossed a bag of trail mix and a water bottle on the counter and said, âPump three.â
The teen behind the counter, a clean-cut boy a few years younger than him, smiled and punched it into the cash register. âThatâll be $26.13. You paying by card?â
âYeahââ
Someone threw down a bag of red licorice in front of him and he heard a familiar voice.
âCan we add these, too?â
Dipper turned to see a blue billed cap perched on a flaming red head of hair. His heart jumped.
âWendy!â He threw his arms around her and squeezed her hard. âWhat are you doing here?â
âI was about to ask you the same question.â She pulled back and beamed at him.
He let out a nervous laugh. âI was driving up to surprise you for Thanksgiving, since youâre officially a college grad!â
She rolled her eyes. âI donât get the paper âtil May, but the grades are in, so I guess itâs official.â
It was then that Dipper remembered he was at the cash, and he turned back to the cashier. âSorry about that, I guess itâs, what, $30 now? Just â keep the change.â
The cashier accepted the tip without complaint and they collected their snacks from the counter. Dipper ushered Wendy outside, eager to catch up with her after four months apart. However, Wendy had other ideas.
She leaned into him and asked, âIs this why you were so interested in my travel plans?â
âYeah! I figured Iâd get there first to surprise you, but I guess you beat me here. How did you get here, by the way?â
âThatâs my bus stopped outside,â she explained as she threw a thumb over her shoulder. âDriver needed a break.â
âRight.â Dipper looked out and saw the bus driver plodding back to the parked bus. He sighed. âI guess youâd better go, if you want to catch it. Iâll see you there?â
Wendy folded her arms and popped a hip. âI could. Or,â she prodded him, âI could catch a ride with an old friend? One with a gassed up truck whoâs coincidentally headed in the same direction?â
Dipper blinked. âCan you do that?â
She threw her head back and laughed at his innocent question. âOf course I can! I already paid for my ticket; the bus driver doesnât care. Iâll just grab my luggage.â
She ran to the bus, and Dipper watched from afar as she explained the situation. Sure enough, the man opened up the undercarriage and out came Wendyâs suitcase. She thanked him and then waved Dipper toward his truck. The two of them loaded into the truck, and within minutes, they were rolling.
The instant they hit the highway, Wendyâs motor mouth kicked in. She regaled him with stories about graduate mishaps, thesis breakdowns, and a particularly rowdy frat party that made Dipper wish for a moment that he was part of that scene at college.
âSo Iâve got this guy, two hundred pounds, wanting to arm wrestle me,â she said as snapped off the end of her licorice with her teeth. âThe second we start, he pushes as hard as he can. I let him go for a bit, my handâs halfway to the table, and then I flex my wrist.â
Dipper cackled. He knew what was coming. âOh no.â
âOh yeah,â Wendy replied. âI flex my wrist, and the guyâs face â his eyes bulge out and his face goes red, like I kicked him in the balls. And with that, the game is over. I push as hard as I can, and the crowd is screaming because heâs never lost one of these before. When heâs inches from the table, I make direct eye contact, and I see the exact moment he realizes that heâs lost.â She leaned back in her seat with a confident air and grinned. âThat is how I was the first girl accepted into the Sigma Kappa Delta-whatever fraternity. Iâve got a plaque on the wall and everything.â
Dipper shook his head. âYouâre amazing.â
âThanks. Actually the guys were pretty cool, once they got over their testosterone a bit. We had some fun times this semester.â
âSounds like it,â Dipper said as he tossed back a handful of trail mix.
They passed a sign for a music festival in Beavercreek, and Wendy piped up, âIâve always wanted to go to that music festival. You know the band Fierce Felicia is playing this year? I love them, theyâre an all-girls metal group.â
âYeah?â Dipper glanced at Wendy and saw her crane her head to follow the sign until it was out of sight behind them. After a beat, he asked, âDo you want to go?â
âWhat?â Wendy snapped her head around to gawk at him. Â
âWe could go there, if you want?â he repeated. âA detour, just for a couple days. Itâd be a celebratory âcongratulations on making it through collegeâ trip, you and me.â
Her face lit up slowly and she asked, âYouâd do that?â
âSure. What are friends for?â
âYouâre the best, dude. Fierce Felicia, here we come!â
Her smile was infectious, and Dipper couldnât suppress his grin as he took the next exit off the interstate.
38 notes
¡
View notes
Text
My Worst Travel Moments of 2017
Travel isnât only about the good times. Donât be fooled by the perfect photos and smiling selfies â behind all the awesome times on social media are the times when youâre racing for a flight and terrified youâre about to miss it. The times when youâre sick as a dog and can barely drag yourself out of bed. The times when youâre lonely, missing good times at home. And the times when youâre frustrated at trying to order food that you end up at McDonaldâs.
I like to write about those times every year because itâs a good reminder that travel is not a panacea to all of the issues in your life. If you have problems at home, the road could potentially make them worse. Some of my bad times?
In 2012, I got my credit cards hacked while in Portugal and Spain.
In 2013, I developed giant hives in Busan, South Korea, and it was nine months before they stopped popping up on a daily basis.
In 2014, I got head lice in New Orleans. Because clearly I am a small child.
In 2015, I got locked in a vestibule with a cockroach in Avola, Sicily, and had to call my Airbnb host to set me and my mom free.
And in 2016, I fell backwards and slammed my head on the bedpost in Passau, Germany, giving me my first concussion ever and necessitating a hospital visit in Munich.
2017 wasnât one of my worst years, but plenty of shenanigans ensued along the way. Here are some of my bad times that I took with the good.
When a Piece of my Car Fell Off in Key Largo
For my second trip to the Keys this year, I was to fly into Miami and drive down to Key West before flying back. I picked up my rental car with no issues and drove through Miami for the umpteenth time that year.
Until the next day when I got to the drive-through Starbucks in Key Largo. Then I suddenly noticed a scraping noise everywhere I went.
As I pulled into a parking lot, looking for a good photography spot, a lady called out to me and pointed out that a piece of my car was dragging beneath the bumper. At that point I was about a mile from my guesthouse, so I decided to pop the plastic back into place as best I could and drive back.
It held, but soon enough it popped out again. I called the rental company. Their response? âWe can get you a new car, but weâll need to take you up to Miami and do it there.â
âI canât come up to Miami,â I told them. âThatâs three hours round-trip. Iâm working. Why canât you bring me a car?â
Turns out that was literally the only option.
After thinking about it carefully, I decided to tempt fate and borrow the guesthouseâs roll of duct tape. One of the guests insisted on helping me tape it up.
And wouldnât you know â it held in place for two more hours, all the way to Key West.
I was terrified the whole drive, though. Never again!
The Chaotic Arrival in Russia
Iâm glad I did the St. Peter Line Ferry to Russia, but Iâm never doing it again. The main reason? It was completely disorganized and I had no idea what was going on. That didnât compare to the arrival in Russia, though â it was utterly CHAOTIC upon arrival.
There were supposed to be lines at the arrival booth but everyone just swelled into a pile of lumps, pushing each other out of the way. Parents let their late arriving adult children cut ahead of others. I thought a fight would break out at one point.
And of course I ended up getting questioned for 20 minutes about my heavily worn passport filled with stamps. They were shocked that I planned to stay in Russia overnight. I had to point out that the ferry wa staying for two full days! At one point I didnât think they were going to let me in at all.
And then I got in, and St. Petersburg was absolutely lovelyâŚbut Iâm never coming by ferry again.
I will also say that my worst sleep of the year was on the St. Peter Line Ferry. Nothing like trying to sleep in what feels like an undersized twin bed as springs dig into your back and âY.M.C.A.â blares from the nightclub right above your roomâŚ
Killing My Computer in Vail
After five years with one computer, I knew it was time to upgrade soon. Even so, I wasnât ready for the decision to be made for me against my will.
While at my hotel in Vail, I lifted up the lid to the water bottle, forgetting that it had water in it, and it leapt out and splashed across my keyboard.
I freaked out. I turned it off, dried it out, let it evaporate. But 24 hours later, the top row of keys on the keyboard refused to work at all. And I couldnât even get on my computer because it wouldnât let me type my password.
The good news is that I was prepared for this and had the money saved up â even if I got it fixed, it was time for a new computer anyway. After consulting my friends in the Travel Blog Success group over which computer to get, I found a 13âł refurbished MacBook Pro and had it shipped to the Upper West Side store right away.
You know what else I bought? AÂ silicone keyboard protector. Now that lives on my keyboard 24/7 just in case another spill is in my future.
Almost Being Late Back to the Cruise in St. Maarten
(Yes, Iâm using this photo for the third time in two weeks. I canât write about St. Maarten without sharing this photo!)
I like to be early. I like to leave extra time. For me, one of the worst feelings in the world is feeling like Iâm going to be late for a flight.
So when the bus dropped me in Maho Beach and I asked about return buses, an the locals said, âIt comes when it comes,â I thought I would have to leave extra early to get back on time, just in case.
But then I decided to loosen up. See more of those amazing take-offs and landings before being forced to return to the ship.
Which seemed okayâŚuntil I got a cab and the roads were filled with bumper-to-bumper traffic.
St. Maarten, at least on the Dutch side, is basically one main road. If that road is stuck, everything is stuck. And when the ride that took 20 minutes on the way there took closer to an hour on the way back, as time clicked closer and closer to the time that THE CRUISE WAS SCHEDULED TO LEAVE, I began to full-out panic.
My passport was on board. What would I do?! How long would they hold the boat for me, just in case?! When the hell would I get my stuff back? Where would they even send it?! My blood pressure was through the roof.
It was just after the time when I got back on board. God, I was relieved to make it back on time. I practically kissed the crew.
I later found out there had been a regatta that day, hence the traffic. And everybody had been caught up in the same gridlock as us, though the tour groups to Maho Beach had left much earlier as a precaution.
Never again, NEVER AGAIN, am I cutting it that close.
When I Got Attacked by Russians Online
Definitely the worst tech headache this summer was when my site got attacked by Russian networks. And I wasnât the only one â some of my blogging colleagues were hit as well. Just like the DNC!
Basically, they were sending tons of shitty traffic to my site, trying to overload it. This also temporarily halted my display income as the traffic was so low quality.
Basically, it took a LONG ASS TIME for it to be fixed. But I will give credit where itâs due â it was the team at Sucuri who finally figured out how to block the traffic. If youâre a blogger, I highly recommend their services. It just costs $9.99 per month.
Additionally, today my site is hosted with Performance Foundry. While Iâve used different hosting companies for different reasons over the years, Iâm now glad to be with PF because They Can Handle The Bad Shit and I get to worry a lot less.
Not Knowing How to Start My Car in Oulu
I havenât had a car since 2008, when I moved from Somerville to downtown Boston. Since then, the only times I drive are when Iâm home visiting my parents or when I rent a car for a trip, so it always surprises me when I see new high-tech features in cars.
Some of them are great (I love the lumbar support button in my dadâs new car!). And some are bewildering. Like trying to turn it on in the first place when there isnât even a slot for the key. How does that work?!
It was the morning after my all-night party at the World Air Guitar Championships in Oulu, Finland, and I had to pick up my rental car and drive five hours across the country to Kuopio and then Porosalmi.
It was hard enough finding the right place â the rental office wasnât open that day, so I had to be driven to a different location. The rental car employee dropped me off at the car with the keys and left.
I loaded up the car. I adjusted the seat and mirrors. And for the life of me, I couldnât figure out how to turn on the car. HOW?! There was a button, and it definitely turned things on, but it was quiet and didnât seem to be working â isnât this how hybrid cars were now?
After fifteen minutes, I was nearly in tears. Nothing was turning the car on.
Finally, an older woman came out of a nearby apartment building and I begged her to help me. She pointed out the obvious â I was supposed to step on the break while simultaneously pushing the ignition button. The engine roared to life.
âKiitos. Thank you so much,â I told her. âYouâve saved me.â
âYouâre from America?â she asked.
âYes,â I said. âNew York.â
âMy daughter lives in Houston.â
And just for the record, thatâs the Finnish equivalent of a deep, intimate conversation. I love that introverted country.
Every Minute I Wasted on the Landmark Forum
Have you heard of the Landmark Forum? Google it and youâll find people calling it a cult.
I havenât written about the Landmark Forum in depth, and Iâm still wrestling with whether I should write about it in detail. Maybe someday I will.
Itâs a personal development seminar. I ended up there because a friend who had done the Forum invited me to do it. It had changed her life and she thought it could change mine, too.
As the days passed (it was a four-day event), soon it became clear that this wasnât working for me. I wasnât having the breakthroughs that other people seemed to be having. The âbig revelationâ was a phrase youâd expect an emo kid to scrawl on his biology book when he was trying to be edgy.
But that wasnât all.
What brought me over the edge was when the instructor told a story about how they welcomed a child molester to the Forum with open arms. And apparently when a young woman brought in the relative who sexually assaulted her repeatedly as a child, everyone was cheering because he had made this decision to change his life.
I immediately went up to the microphone and let loose. How could you let a child molester into a room full of sexual abuse survivors? Did they call the police? How could this possibly be framed as a good thing? Did they want his money so much that it didnât matter that he was a child molester, sitting amongst them?
For the first time in three days, the instructor was caught off guard.
After I spoke, the Landmark Forum offered me a full refund of $695.
I think that says it all.
For the record, I donât think the Landmark Forum is a cult. However, I do think that they use many techniques that cults use. They instill a belief that everyone who hasnât gone through the Forum will never be as good or evolved as people who have gone through the Forum. Every minute is controlled with almost no downtime; you have assignments to do on your breaks and you work from 9 AM to 10 PM or later. All doubts that attendees express are swiftly countered and shut down by the instructor. They encourage you to recruit everyone you know to join the Forum. There are several other courses afterward that they encourage you to keep taking, all of which cost additional money.
And while they make it seem like everyone loves it, the people above in the photo attended my Forum and didnât get anything out of it, either. The defining mood was, âWhat the hell did I just spend $695 on?â It felt amazing to confess to each other that we were creeped out by the whole thing.
So yeah. Besides the friend who recruited me, I have several other friends who have done the Forum in various cities and countries and it did work for them. And theyâre all great people, smart people, educated people. But the more I think about it, the more I realize those people share a number of personality traits that I personally do not have.
So would I recommend it? No, I would not. But who knows? Maybe it would work for you. I wouldnât recommend you spend $695 on as big a gamble as that, though. And if you go, for Godâs sake, donât welcome a pedophile with open arms.
 The Weird Ass Table Next To Ours in the Hamptons
On a day trip to the Hamptons with my friends Beth and Colleen, we decided to get dinner at Almond in Bridgehampton. The food was fantastic (their lobster pasta was one of the best dishes Iâve had all year) but the experience was ruined by this odd experience with the table next to ours.
They were a bunch of gay guys our age, several drinks into their night. One of them turned to Beth and said something like, âSorry our friends are drunk,â and Beth said something back like, âOh, thatâs fine with us.â
They MUST have misheard her, because thereâs no other explanation for what happened next.
The men suddenly started glaring at us, saying rude things about us to each other. Then one leaned over and said, âYouâre in town for the weekend? Oh, thatâs CUUUUUTE. I live here.â
What the fuck?!
Hereâs the thing: I felt afraid, and I think my friends may have felt the same way. We were frozen, looking at each other with giant faux smiles on our faces, afraid of what they would say if we said anything. And you might think that there was no reason to be afraid, that we were in the middle of a restaurant, that these guys were gay anyway and it couldnât possibly lead to sexual assault. It wasnât about sex â it was about power, just as all sexual harassment and assault is. These men thought we didnât belong in their space and they wanted us to be afraid of them.
Every time we talked or laughed, the guys would swivel their heads in our direction, angry expressions on their faces. One guy even slammed his head on our table and pretended it was an accident.
The men left the restaurant when our entrees came and as soon as they were gone, we exploded. What was their problem? Why would you treat strangers like that? What did they think Beth had said? I still have no idea what happened all these months later.
A Day of Delay Hell in Charlotte
On the way back from Asheville, I had a layover in Charlotte. That two-hour layover turned into ten hours and counting. And it wasnât an ordinary layover â there were thunderstorms in New York, so they kept delaying it by an hour, another hour, yet another hour, every hour, then canceling the flight, then delaying the rebooked flight. If I had known, I would have gone out into Charlotte to explore! Hell, I would have taken a later flight from Asheville!
Charlotte is not the greatest airport in which to be stranded. Less healthy food, far less bookstores, yet a lot more fast food. If you end up stranded thereâŚyeah, good luck with that.
I was supposed to be home by 4:00 PM but I didnât get home until 1:30 AM. Worst transit day of the year.
Finding Out I Had to Move
On the last day of November, hours before I was to fly to Vegas, my landlady told me that she was selling the building and I had to move.
This was the last thing I wanted to hear. I adore my apartment and wanted to continue living there for at least another year or two. Plus, not only is moving in New York annoying and expensive, but itâs even tougher for self-employed people. New York tenants have a lot of rights, so to counter that, they make it difficult for people to rent in the first place. For example, you need to prove income of 40 times the monthly rent in a year. And even if you make that much, a lot of landlords are skittish about renting to self-employed people.
I was so nervous, I didnât eat or sleep for a week. I got stress headaches. I had no appetite. I couldnât do anything at the gym.
That said, I was able to remedy the situation quickly. I set up apartment viewing appointments within an hour of the news. I applied for the second apartment I saw. And thankfully, after a lot of work and sleepless nights and sending every proof of income that I had, I was accepted into a new apartment extremely close to where I live now.
The new place is great. Itâs not a brownstone anymore (now that I know how easily brownstones can be sold out from under you, Iâm a bit over brownstone living), but itâs a much bigger, gut-renovated apartment with tons of closet space and a separate kitchen. Moving day is January 15, and I canât wait to share my new place with you.
A Sexually Harassing Driver in St. Kitts
Picture this: you get off your cruise ship in St. Kitts for the day. You decide to eschew a shore excursion and instead hire a driver for the day. This will give you a chance to explore and take all the photos you need without having to confirm to a schedule.
So you step into the driverâs van. And before heâs even left the parking lot, heâs leaning out the window and yelling sexual things at a woman walking by. She ignored him. I practically had flames bursting out of my ears.
âBut itâs the Caribbean.â
Itâs not just the Caribbean. Itâs fucking everywhere.
THE RAINDROP CAKE WAS A LIE
I know a lot of New York/Instagram/Buzzfeed food trends are overblown, but nothing was as bad as the raindrop cake, which I sampled at Smorgasburg in Prospect Park, Brooklyn. I had been seeing this for weeks: it was a clear orb, yet something that you ate like a cake.
Beth and I decided to try them: one clear, one purple. We each forked over eight dollars, hoping that this would be worth it.
We sampled them. AndâŚthey were essentially plain sugary gelatin.
I felt like an idiot. How had I built this dish up so much in my mind? Did I really think it would be as cool as the Instagrams and Buzzfeed articles claimed? HOW FAR HAD MY MIND GONE IN THE NAME OF EATING TRENDY FOOD?
There is so much good food at Smorgasburg. I especially recommend the fries from Bolivian Llama Party. But make sure you avoid the raindrop cake.
What were your worst travel moments of the year?
The post My Worst Travel Moments of 2017 appeared first on Adventurous Kate.
via Travel Blogs http://ift.tt/2BoF5hF
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
deadleafmoth
Haunted Life
brainrothours
𤥠homk
delicatekidinfluencer
Untitled
znation-is-my-catnip
At least it ain't sharks.
