#a quarter of her age she loves calling me a pig for eating at all) and then say 'well my money paid for it' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fivelakesinwriting · 3 years

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Sea Creatures (Pope Heyward)

Warnings: Somewhat sad/ angst-y in the beginning. Mention of drug use. Talk of animal dissection, briefly (it's Pope...) Otherwise it's fairly fluffy.

Author's Notes: This has been running through my head for the last few days, and I wanted to get it out there. I love Pope and his mannerisms.

I hope you all like it xoxo

Requested? NO

Please see my masterlist for all other works . My work is NOT to be transferred, translated, reposted or copied to any other sites without my permission. But feel free to reblog on here if that tickles your fancy. Thank you for all your support xoxo

Time seemed to have stood still from the moment JJ was put in handcuffs to the time Pope and his father pulled the car into the driveway of their small home. It didn't seem real. Pope always thought, in the back of his mind, that he was see JJ in handcuffs one day. But that was down the line. Years from now. For something JJ actually did. Not something he did.

Pope felt sick to his stomach as he slowly made his way inside the home, still humid with a lack of air from the storm. He made his way into his bedroom and shut the door quietly behind him.

In an attempt to busy himself Pope paced the small quarters of his bedroom, and pushed papers around his desk to feel organized. It just made him feel worse.

A hefty knock on his door made him jump and knock an old science project off his desk.

"If you don't stop pacing in here you're going to run a hole in my floor." His father stated as he opened the door and stared at his son.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I just can't think straight right now." Pope sighed as he adjusted his hat on his head.

"I know. Listen, take the afternoon and go down to the beach. Take a walk. You're no use to me here like this." His father stated softly with his hands in his pockets.

Pope wanted to protest his father, but before he could his dad had turned his back and walked out of the doorway. Pope picked his bag up off the ground once more then headed out the front door.

To walk by himself to the beach felt wrong. He had none of his friends with him. The smoke from JJ's blunt wasn't around his face, Kiara was going on about how JJ shouldn't leave his empty beer cans out because it harmed the sea-life, while John B watched girls.

Pope made his way to the beach, the entrance closest to his house, and walked towards the shoreline. He dropped his backpack in the sand before he sat down with a sigh. This summer had, in no way, gone how they had planned.

"No way!" An excited squeal echoed throughout the empty shoreline. Pope turned his gaze to his left and spotted a girl, about his age standing in the water at her knees.

"Valerie?" He called as he stood up with a brush of the sand off his legs. He took a few steps towards the shoreline to where the girl stood in the calm evening waters, and waited for her spot him.

"Pope? Pope Heyward? Oh my goodness, it is you!" The girl smiled as she shielded her eyes from the setting sun then made her way through the water back to the shore.

"Hi, Valerie. It's been a while." Pope blushed when the girl stood in front of him on the beach and smiled up at him.

Valerie Anderson was someone Pope had met in a freshman science class and perhaps had tiny crush on ever since she asked him to help her with a frog dissection.

"It's really gross. I don't want to do it. I'll pass out."

"In Senior year we have to do pigs."

"Shut up, Pope or I'll vomit on you."

Pope figured she rethought her plan to become a surgeon right after that class. He didn't see her too often in his academically advanced science classes after that, not that she wasn't smart enough for them.

"What are you doing out here by yourself?" Pope asked as he looked down at the water that dripped from her legs.

"Could ask you the same thing. Where are all your friends? Especially the loud, blonde one?" Valerie asked as she looked behind him as if the Pogues were to appear out of thin air behind him.

"JJ? He's...indisposed at the moment." Pope replied with a rub of the back of his neck.

"Well, you can hang out with me if you want. I found this huge starfish right over here, if you wanna come check it out." She smiled as she hooked two fingers in his many bracelets that adorned his wrist and tugged him towards the water.

"Val, let me take my shoes off." Pope chuckled as he kicked off his shoes before he laced his fingers with hers and let her pull him into the salt water.

They slowly, carefully, walked back to the place that Valerie had been standing and she pointed to the starfish she had been staring at moments prior.

"Don't touch it! They can die if you remove them from their spot. Just leave it." Pope stated as he grabbed her other hand when she went to grab the starfish beneath the water. For the briefest of moments he felt like JJ wasn't that far away at all. He had lost count of how many times he had to tell JJ 'don't touch that '

"Still smart as ever." She replied with a smile as she pulled her free hand back. Neither of them made a move to unlock their hands as they stood together in the water and looked down at the starfish.

"You're the last person I expected to see out here today, Valerie. It's nice..don't get me wrong. Just unexpected." Pope smiled over at her.

"Same. Listen, I'm super hungry. Do you want to walk down to the strip with me and see if there's something cheap to eat? Fries or something?" Valerie smiled as she pulled her hand from his to run her hands through her hair.

"Sounds nice. I could use a distraction." Pope nodded.

"I'm the best at distractions." She replied as she turned and began to lead them towards the shore.

"Except when you have to dissect a frog." Pope teased.

"I swear to God, Pope. I will bury you in the sand and leave you here!" Valerie laughed as she playfully shoved him with all her (meek) might.

As Pope grabbed his shoes he thought that things might not be so bad. Maybe JJ would get out of that holding cell and the fine wouldn't be so bad, maybe they really would find that gold.

And maybe he could finally find the courage to ask Valerie Anderson on a date.

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment xoxo Requests are still open.

#obx fics #obx fluff #pope heyward #pope heyward fluff #pope heyward fic #outer banks fic #pope heyward imagine #outer banks fluff #obx imagine

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edie-k · 3 years

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Legally Ginger Chapter 4 (Romione, PG-13)

Title: Legal Ginger, Chapter 4 "Not Completely Unfortunate Looking"

Pairing: Romione, minor Ron/Astoria, Harry/Astoria

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Ron makes his first East Coast friend

Thanks adnei for all the beta help!

Bolded dialogue plus the chapter title are verbatim or very very heavily ripped from the movie.

Thank you for all your comments last chapter! I think the fun of these RomCom inspired fics is to surprise you with what character ends up where.

And to be clear, I love Harry - not as much as Ron but I am one of these weirdos that somehow thinks the main character is underrated in his own series. But the very few times Harry was mad at Ron, he knew how to cut and I'm going to have some fun with that. I doubt you'll hate Harry when this story is complete. But you might at the end of next chapter.

Click below or follow the link to AO3!

Ron stormed back to his room, struggling with the lock as his hands shook. After finally getting the door open, he quickly grabbed for Pig’s leash. The pug has out of his bed and at Ron’s feet in a flash.

Ron, who didn’t have patience for Pig’s short legs today, scooped him up and stomped down the hall and out to the parking lot. He jerked open the door to his Escape and deposited Pig in the passenger’s seat before taking a deep breath.

Pig tilted his head quizzically.

“We need to hit something.”

**********************************

After driving about 10 miles, Ron spotted it. A large building that had seen better days with steel cages and a dilapidated miniature golf course outside. The weathered sign outside it said “Hogs Head Sports Center and Pub”.

He cut through two lanes of traffic to turn into the mostly empty parking lot. After putting the car in park, he took a second to dig for quarters in his center console but came up empty. “Shit,” he sighed.

Ron grabbed Pig’s leash and the dog hopped down to follow him towards the building.

Upon entering, Ron found the inside to be about as unkempt as the outside but it was surprisingly clean. Another pleasant surprise was that there was a bar to the right with a few grizzled townies eating nachos and being served drafts by a grumpy looking bearded bartender while they watched Sportscenter on a small flat screen. In the back was a sole batting cage, a few arcade machines and a beat up door with a paper taped to it that said “Simulator in Use”. To the left, a small counter with golf clubs, colored golf balls, and tiny pencils.

Behind the counter was the biggest man Ron had ever seen in real life and he’d been lucky enough to meet three Lakers, two Warriors, and a Ram. Similar to the bartender, he had unkempt hair and a wild beard but unlike the old guy slinging drinks, he was middle aged and his face split in a big smile upon seeing Ron.

“Hello,” the giant of a man greeted him. “What’s doing?”

“I need some quarters for the cages,” Ron said, holding out a $5.

“Sure,” the man agreed and opened the cash register.

“Thanks,” Ron muttered and started to walk out the door before stopping short. “Shit.”

“Something wrong?”

“I don’t have my bat,” Ron said, shaking his head.

“Came to the cages without a bat?” the guy said, his accent so thick that Ron had to pause to process before answering.

“Uh yeah. I sort of just needed to find something to hit that wasn’t…” Ron trailed off.

“The other guy?” The giant man finished his sentence with a chuckle.

Ron laughed. “Pretty much.”

The man walked into the back room and came out with two worn bats. “I’ve been there,” he said, handing Ron one.

“Thanks.”

“You look like you could use some company,” the man said.

Ron considered for a moment. He’d been lonely as hell this week. Growing up with six siblings, living in a fraternity house… he wasn’t used to all this time to himself. And this guy was only the second genuine conversation he’d had since arriving in Boston.

“Sure,” he replied. “My name’s Ron.”

The man outstretched a giant hand. “Everyone calls me Hagrid.”

***********************

“We hooked up the night before graduation and she’s already engaged to this d-bag?”

“I don’t get it,” Hagrid said. “What’s so great about this guy?”

Ron had spent the last half hour spilling his life story while hitting balls off the fastest pitching machine in the cages. Hagrid had proved himself to be a captive and empathetic audience - almost like talking with one of his older brothers.

Ron shrugged. “He’s obviously smart.”

“Why? Cause he got into Harvard? So did you. Better looking than you?”

“I mean, he’s a little scrawny. If I’d actually been dumb enough to hit him, I’d have won before he even knew we were fighting but he’s decent looking enough. I’ve got a sister and he’s her type.”

“He seems like a total asshole so no way he’s got you beat on personality,” Hagrid said.

Ron laughed. “You’ve known me for forty minutes!”

Now Hagrid shrugged. “Lived here my whole life. Not to paint with too broad a brush but there aren’t a lot of Harvard kids kicking back with the counter guy at a rec center. You check out.”

“That’s probably true from what I’ve seen,” Ron agreed. “But I’m not really a Harvard kid. I just...I actually don’t know what I expected.”

“You expected to spend the rest of your lives together! I don’t get why it’s so hard. Isn’t that what all the TV shows tell us women want? My girl, Olympe, she dumped me a few months back. She took everything. Our home, the Dunkie’s rewards, my baby Fangs…”

“Fangs?”

“Best mutt there is,” Hagrid said. “Although this guy’s pretty great.” Hagrid leaned down to scratch the Pig’s ears.

“I'm sorry, that sucks,” Ron replied, shaking his head.

“It happens all the time,” Hagrid shrugged. “You ready for a beer?”

“Always,” agreed Ron and they walked back toward the main building.

Upon entering the building, Ron set his bat on the counter. “What’s the old man got on tap?”

When Hagrid didn’t immediately reply, Ron turned to look at him. He was standing frozen, staring across the room where an attractive middle aged brunette woman in a polo shirt and jeans was pushing an empty dolley out from behind the bar and towards them.

“Hi, Hagrid,” she said with a smile. Ron turned to grab the door and hold it open for her.

“Uh, yeah, uh hi,” stammered Hagrid. He tried to slide his bat on the counter but only succeeded in knocking the one Ron used to the floor with a loud clatter.

She waved as she left the building.

“Could I be any more goddamn spastic?” Hagrid bemoaned. Ron gave a sympathetic wince. “Now I really need that drink.”

Ron followed him over to the bar and slid onto the stool next to him.

“Abe? Can we get a couple?”

The bearded old man behind the bar grunted and poured them two drafts.

Hagrid took a sip and shook his head. “This women stuff is hard. Never thought I’d be in this position at my age. But you’re still young. Doesn’t have to be this difficult for you. Smart guy, good guy, athletic guy like you. You’d find another girl in no time.”

“I mean, maybe, but Astoria…. she’s worth fighting for, you know?”

“Well, engaged ain’t married,” said Hagrid. “Never, ever, ever give up.”

Ron burst out laughing. “That’s Michael Scott advice!”

“Eh, it worked out for Jim and Pam,” insisted Hagrid.

“Well, I’m not giving up yet, so don’t worry.”

*************************************************************************************

Ron entered his first class Tuesday morning, feeling much more confident. After leaving Hogs Head with a stomach full of greasy nachos, Hagrid’s number, and an offer to text anytime, he'd returned to campus and poured over all the syllabi and orientation packets again. He felt confident that he’d done the pre-work needed to enter his Criminal Law class.

He plunked down in his seat and looked around. In front of him sat Astoria and what’s his face. Harry had his arm draped behind the back of her chair.

Engaged ain’t married. Engaged ain’t married. He repeated to himself.

In addition to his studying last night, he had tried to scour social media to see if there was a wedding date set, but the news seemed totally non-existent. On a whim, he had texted Lavender. Lavender had said she was working for LiveNation post graduation but Ron wondered if she’d actually joined the FBI - thirty minutes later, she had emailed him a whole mess of screenshots from various social media accounts, college newsletters, and local newspapers. He thought he might even have Harry’s social security number in the file. The only thing he cared about was that she had confirmed there was no date set and that they intended on a long engagement.

“Hem, hem.”

The noise came from a small woman standing at the front of the hall. She had a flat face and her style of dress was atrocious - fluffy pink cardigan over a shapeless tan shift dress. He vowed to get a discrete picture of her to throw in the group chat.

“Welcome to Criminal Law. I am Professor Dolores Umbridge. I have high expectations of how you will perform and how you will conduct yourself in my class. I expect you to push yourselves to excel and outperform your classmates and yourselves. And bear in mind, performing well this year will have you well placed for one of four highly regarded internships at my firm next year where you will be applying your skills to real world cases.”

“Now, let’s commence with our usual torture,” she said. She studied a class roster.

Please not me. But I can do it. But also, please not me.

“Mr. Weasley.”

Goddamn it.

“Would you prefer your client have committed a crime malum in se or malum prohibitum?” Professor Umbridge asked.

“Well,” he said carefully. “I prefer they not have committed the crime at all.”

The rest of the class snickered.

“That is the dream, Mr. Weasley,” she said with a wry smile. She looked down at the roster again. “What about you, Mr. Potter?”

“Malum prohibitum,” he said confidently. “I’d rather they commit a regulatory infraction as opposed to a dangerous crime.”

“Well said, Mr. Potter,” Professor Umbridge replied. “Let’s take a closer look at malum prohibitum, shall we?”

Harry shot a glance back at Ron over his shoulder and gave him a shit eating grin before running his fingers up and down Stori’s arm.

We’re in the middle of fucking class and he’s mauling her like they’re at a kegger.

Before he could think better of it, Ron raised his hand.

“Oh,” said Professor Umbridge. “You had a question Mr. Weasley?”

“No,” said Ron. “I just changed my mind. I’ll take the dangerous criminal. Unlike Potter, a challenge has never scared me.”

Harry whipped his head around to glare at Ron.

“Exactly the spirit I like to see, Mr. Weasley,” Umbridge said approvingly.

*************************

“Come on boy,” said Ron, urging Pig along down the stairs of the dorms.

The semester was now three weeks old. Ron was dutifully completing his reading each night and when McGonagall had come back at him again with a question, he had managed to piece together an answer that satisfied her.

Campus life, however, had continued to be fairly lonely for him. His debacle in McGonagall’s class had spread like wildfire and he’d been shunned from every study group he approached. He’d taken to reviewing in the bar at the Hogs Head for the company. He wasn’t sure if Hagrid liked him or Pig better but at least there was one place in town they were always welcome.

“I didn’t know pets were allowed in student housing,” he heard a voice say.

Ron glanced up to see a face that looked somewhat familiar to him. After a tick, he recognized the woman speaking as the same one who had reassured him that first day of classes.

“Service animals are,” he told her.

She looked at him skeptically, brushing her voluminous hair behind her ears. “Is he a service animal?”

“He provides services,” Ron said, giving her a cocky grin.

She pursed her lips as though she was trying not to smile. “Such as?”

“Getting the attention of beautiful women,” Ron answered.

The brunette stood up and crossed her arms against her chest but there was really no hiding her obvious amusement. “Wow.” She shook her head and started to walk away.

“Come on, that was a good line, right?” Ron called after her.

She stopped and looked back at him. “I just didn’t think that was an area that you needed assistance in,” she said slyly, before walking away.

Shit, what a response.

He grinned, watching her go. He was about to call and ask her name - after all, she was the friendliest person on the campus - when he caught a glimpse of Astoria out of the corner of his eye. She was standing about twenty feet away with fucking Harry’s arm draped around her shoulders, talking to a couple of other students. For fuck’s sake, is she full of helium now? He’s constantly got an arm around her to weigh her down. But she was watching Ron through narrowed eyes.

Ron gave a small wave and Stori blushed, clearly embarrassed that she was caught. At that moment, Harry seemed to notice his fiancée was distracted and glanced in Ron’s direction. He threw Ron one of his patented spoiled rich dick smirks. Ron smirked right back and winked.

I’m not as out of the picture as you think. We’ll see who wins this one.

********************

Ron was just stepping out of the bathroom when he spotted his phone lighting up.

Fred

FaceTime as soon as you can!

He sighed, threw on a shirt, and dialed his brother.

Fred’s face appeared before him. Sort of. Wherever he was was dark, loud and full of strobe lights.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked.

“We’re celebrating!” shouted Fred. The camera turned and Ron suddenly saw a whole slew of his friends.

Parvati came into view. “Seamus proposed and Lav said yes!”

Over her right shoulder, Ron spotted the aforementioned couple kissing. Over Parvati’s left shoulder though, he saw…

“Are you at a strip club?” Ron asked.

“Of course!” yelled George. “It’s 6pm on a Monday. Half price drinks and free buffet at Diamond’s!”

“I just bought a ring, I gotta pay for a wedding, and student loans are coming due,” Seamus said, now closer to the camera. Lavender’s face wasn’t in view but he assumed the hand with the ring on screen belonged to her.

“Congrats buddy,” Ron said, feeling a sting.

“June 9th. I need you as one of my groomsmen, right? Lavender’s first cousin is like six two. If she wears heels, only you can match up to her.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Ron assured him.

“Ron! Did that stuff help? Has she dumped that douche yet?” Lavender screamed, not aware of just how close she was to the mic.

“Uh, I’m making progress,” Ron said.

“Almost October bro,” George said. “If anyone can make it work, you can.”

“Or just come home!” he heard his sister shout from far away.

“I’ll see you all soon,” Ron said. “Have fun.”

“I’ll slip Destiny a $5 and tell her it’s from you in case you change your mind,” Ginny called. Then the screen went black.

God, he missed his friends, his family. He missed having a bunch of guys at the frat to hang out with at the drop of a hat. He missed having a dozen teammates, available for a run at the drop of a hat. He missed Tim, the coffee cart guy who always knew his correct coffee/milk/syrup ratio.

He didn’t think Harvard would be easy. He didn’t think that it would be easy to get Astoria back. But he assumed making friends would be easy. He didn’t even remember how he made friends at CULA - did he even have to try? He sighed and picked up Pig’s leash, ready to take him for one last walk.

“It’s a Cambridge tradition - pass it along to everyone,” he heard someone say down the hall. “8 o’clock tomorrow at Gord’s Pub”

“What tradition?” Ron asked, coming around the corner. “Oh.”

There he was, face to face, with Harry Potter.

“Uh, sorry,” said Ron. “I heard the word pub.”

Harry looked at him and then gave a slight smile. “Yeah, man. There’s a trivia night at Gord’s Pub tomorrow night. It’s sort of a law school tradition to hit it up.”

“Trivia night, huh?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, the guy who does it prides himself on coming up with the most difficult questions he can. It’s impossible to win. Everyone completely bombs on every question so everyone just gets drunk by the second half. I hear it’s a pretty good night,” Harry said.

“Cool,” said Ron awkwardly.

“You should stop by. I’m sure there’ll be a team you can jump onto,” Harry suggested.

“Yeah, yeah, maybe I will,” Ron said.

“Cool dog,” Harry said, pointing at Pig.

“Uh, thanks. Have a good night,” Ron said, walking away.

Am I so desperate for friends that I’m hanging out with this douche? I guess so.

#romione fanfic #au romione #ron x hermione #ron and hermione #hp fanfic #rom com

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 4 years

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Goodnight, Aaron (Aaron Hotchner x OC) Chapter 4

Summary: With Hotch’s blessing, Sebastian begins to assimilate into the Hotchner household.

Tagging: @sunlight-moonrise, @clean-bands-dirty-stories, @genevievedarcygranger, and @davidrossi-ismydad

Chapter 3 // Masterlist // AO3 Link // Chapter 5

Dropping Jack off at school proved to be the easiest thing in Sebastian’s day, despite not waking up past ten o’clock for the past few weeks.

Packing his possessions only took two hours in comparison to the literal hellscape that was the cleaning up. His tiny bedsit hid plenty of nooks and crannies that hoarded dust and grime. On his hands and knees, Sebastian scrubbed away with anti-bac spray and wipes in hopes that he would get his deposit back.

He really fucking hated cleaning. It always took him way too long. Probably because he got putting on a video for background noise – it had to be something he found interesting to help pass the time but not so interesting that he would be pulled into watching it. A fine wire to walk and Sebastian had terrible balance to match his attitude. There was also the fact that he would often put off cleaning with the excuse of doing it all in one big go.

Past Sebastian was a bitch and Present Sebastian was suffering because of it

After a quick lunch of his leftovers, he lay back on the floor and dialled for his best friend. She picked up after three rings and he whined loudly to her.

“Bellamy, help me. I’m drowning in used wipes in my shitty shitty bedsit.”

“Hmm, delicious,” and Bellamy hung up.

Sebastian didn’t bother ringing up to see if she’d appear in the room. He decided that he would find out if she was on her way or not in the next hour.

Turns out it only took twenty minutes for Bellamy to push the front door open with the tip of her wedges.

“Why’d you call me to help you clean? Sexist pig,” and she swung her leg over his head.

Sebastian didn’t bother trying to dodge, letting the air shoot past his ear, a few stray hairs fluttering in Bellamy’s wake, “Because Klaus would make more mess, and I love your scintillating company – did you bring anything?”

“I got me coffee and you Haribo’s.”

Just another reminder as to how all that kerfuffle with his work visa was worth it.

He clasped his hands together as if in prayer, “I adore you; I owe you my life.”

With a grin, Bellamy tossed the packet his way, “Give me a cloth and tell me about your new boss then.”

Another thing Bellamy brought was the tunes. She was mumbling lyrics as she scrubbed away at the skirting board, Sebastian harmonising in terrible ways. The tasks didn’t get completed much quicker, but it was much more entertaining for Sebastian. Who knew what Bellamy was up to before this, she didn’t tell him.

Bellamy tossed a bag into the garbage can and peered in despite the smell, “Somehow still better than my flat.”

“When are you moving out by the way?”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll move into your bedsit.”

“Don’t, landlord’s a prick.” And Sebastian looked over his shoulder, a belated measure

“Still better than mine.”

Bellamy stayed right up until all the belongings were crushed into Sebastian’s car and the door was locked by them for the final time. It was a very unemotional time when Sebastian tossed the keys through the letterbox, and they left down the murky stairwell together.

To say Jack enjoyed the sight of all Sebastian’s bags pilled together in the backseats was an understatement. The drive back, he was more elated by the tracks leaking from Sebastian’s stereo. His chatter on the drive back about the games in the playground filled the time, and Sebastian was drawn into the world of spies Jack had created.

The energy dipped when Jack and Sebastian had to carry all of Sebastian’s belongings inside. The lift worked, thank God, but Sebastian was still weighed down with his bags for life. Plus Jack could only carry so much. He was only somewhat eager to drag Sebastian’s wheelie suitcase down the corridors. And even less so was Jack to get on with his homework once the car was clear of baggage.

Sebastian sneaked a sly glance at Hotch’s list of Jack’s preferred snacks before he made up some apple slices with peanut butter. Gotta trick the kids into eating their five-a-day.

Somehow, after that snack break, Jack transformed his mood into “very understanding” about doing his science work - especially for an eleven-year-old. He listened to Sebastian’s reason, one he wished he’d thought about and listened to when he was Jack’s age, was heard.

The Lego break was greatly appreciated too. Especially since it was coupled with the front door opening at quarter to seven to reveal Hotch.

“Hi, Daddy!” Jack trotted over and hugged his middle.

“You’re home early,” Sebastian cheered from the kitchen counter.

“On time for once,” Hotch set his stuff on the side, and his gun into the drawer swiftly after. “Don’t expect it to happen often.” Then, as Jack went back to the dinner table, Hotch knelt down and removed a second gun from an ankle holster. Sebastian didn’t comment. He must have just missed that last time.

“What you doing, buddy?” Hotch joined Jack at the table, subbing in where Sebastian left off. He brought his own pile of paperwork with him. But it stayed in his briefcase.

“Math.”

“Let’s have a look.”

Sebastian’s cooking playlist continued with its lyricless songs. But it was turned it way down and Sebastian felt more self-consciousness about each song still coming up. Towards the final seconds, he would hover over the skip button before deciding that it wouldn’t be so bad if it continued.

One of Sebastian’s favourite songs came on, but he had very little time to enjoy it.

When Jack heard that it was playing, he bounced on his little butt with excitement, “Sebastian wants to get married to this song!”

Looking between Jack and Hotch, who was looking expectantly for an answer with a little grin, Sebastian noticed his jaw was slack and promptly shut it.

“I would like to have my first dance to this song,” He explained, a little slower than Jack who continued:

“We listened to it in the car! But he doesn’t like a bit in the middle so he’s going to change it.”

Sebastian bit his cheek and got back to stirring the cabbage around in the saucepan in a triangle.

“Is this it?” Hotch tapped his pen against the homework, “The part you don’t like?”

“Not yet,” Sebastian replied, “There’s a change from three to four beats per bar in a sec first.”

And, as if he wanted to make things even worse for himself, Sebastian began to wave out the time signature with the fork he’d been using in the saucepan. Hotch and Jack watched the movement the movement change from a triangle to a lightning bolt as the song shifted into its denouement.

“So maybe I’d have to get it edited,” Sebastian finished, his voice fading out the more he spoke.

He didn’t point it out when they reached the moment of upbeat, just before the closing bars that didn’t fit with the traditional wedding idea. Who knows? Maybe he’d be unconventional if he got married, jam out with his significant other on the dance floor.

But he wasn’t about to discuss that with Hotch - or continue it with Jack for that matter. And he didn’t look up from his cooking until it was done and ready to be served.

Hotch ate with them, sat beside Jack while Sebastian was opposite. Jack gave an enthused rehashing of this spy game’s narrative beats. His fork was his baton as he orchestrated a rich tapestry of how he and his friends crept about the playground together. Interjecting appropriately, Hotch offered him tips of the trade, like some hand signals to use while sneaking underneath the windows of the classroom.

“Did you move in alright?” He suddenly addressed Sebastian.

Prayed none of his food was stuck in his teeth, Sebastian replied, “Yeah thanks, I’ll probably be unpacking for some of tomorrow though.”

Jack helped Sebastian load the dishwasher after dinner while Hotch disappeared into his office. It didn’t go unmissed, the way Jack’s behaviour slumped as soon as his father turned to walk away from him.

However, when Hotch reappeared sans suit jacket and tie, Sebastian bit back his laughter. Not because he thought the sight was funny, but he was just so pleased for Jack as the two began setting up a film. It was such a beautiful event to watch unfold from the kitchen table, where Sebastian was flying his Minecraft avatar about the server in search of something to do. He wanted to ring his mum, but by the power of time-zones, he was rendered incapable. So instead he punched a tree until it fell.

“Sebastian! Are you going to watch with us?” Jack said, his neck craning as far as he could go to look at his nanny while he pulled the puppy eyes on him.

“Um,” Sebastian threw a glance at the horrendous clock tower besides Bellamy’s mansion, “I’m gonna work for a bit, sorry Jack.”

The puppy dog eyes grew wider – how that was possible, Sebastian didn’t know – but Jack accepted the answer with relative grace and settled with Hotch on the couch, his legs buried beneath a blanket.

Sebastian decided to start building, something productive. But the further he got into his project, the further he wanted to jump into the ocean because of how ugly everything he made turned out to be. The booming opening titles of a Star Wars film brought him back to the apartment, where Hotch was retrieving something from the fridge, barely giving Sebastian just enough time to switch tabs to his email before he walked behind him.

But then he stopped beside him and spoke under his breath, “You live here too now. You don’t have to worry about bothering us.”

“Ah, I don’t wanna encroach on your time with Jack. And I was just gonna go to the shops. You want owt?” It all came tumbling out of Sebastian’s mouth pretty quick.

“‘Out’?” Hotch repeated.

“Owt, anything, it’s slang for anything.”

“Oh, no thank you. We’re all set,” and he held up the chocolate bar in his hand with a little smile. Sebastian’s stomach tensed but he returned the smile and closed his laptop lid, off to his room to get his rucksack.

Hotch’s arm rested around Jack on the back of sofa. They took turns breaking a square off the chocolate bar, Jack occasionally going for another between

“It makes sense that ‘owt’ is ‘anything’, if ‘nowt’ is ‘nothing’,” Hotch remarked, his head falling back on the couch to look at Sebastian. He shot him back a single finger gun.

“Now you’re getting it.”

“You don’t have to keep your shoes by the door either.”

“Oh, your poor carpets,” Sebastian let out a laugh at his oh-so-very-lame comment, making eye contact with the dress shoes that rested beside Hotch’s feet in pewter grey socks on the floor.

The shop was only a ten-minute walk away and he knew what he wanted. Sebastian still looped around the aisles as if he did not know where his next minute would be spent on this mortal coil. Eventually he settled on a slice of banoffee pie from the bakery. He answered the phone at the till, not so subtly bringing up the subject of their Minecraft time to Bellamy on the other end:

“Have you been on the server yet?”

“No, I’m marking some homework. Why? You wanna hop on tonight?”

“Ah, I’m gonna wait until Jack is off to bed first.”

“I’ll keep you posted on how the little buggers do with their homework.” And there was a clink of a glass in the background, “But I’m telling you, if I read one more ‘Curly’s wife’s nails are red because red means danger’.”

“Make it a drinking game! Don’t, don’t do that.”

Sebastian just missed the rain on his walk back. Thankfully so because his hoodie wouldn’t provide much protection for himself or for his pie. Upon re-entering the apartment, he was greeted by Jack and Jack alone.

“You alright, bud? Where’s ya Dad?”

“He had to get the phone.”

Speak of the devil, Hotch returned to the sitting room with his tie neat in place and suit jacket returned on his back. As he collected his belongings from his safe, he caught sight of Sebastian, “I gotta go to the office, shouldn’t be more than a few hours.”

He kissed the top of Jack’s head and nodded goodbye at Sebastian before leaving. It was then Sebastian saw that the movie was paused and Jack was eating the last square of chocolate.

“Do you want to finish the film, or wait until your dad comes back?”

“Finish it, please,” Jack drooled a little and Sebastian grabbed a tissue to mop it up.

He poked away at the pie before eating it. The pair watched in quietude before Sebastian remembered the last of his snacks at the bottom of his bag.

“You want a Haribo?”

They went through the usual routine: the Millennium Falcon speeding away with the gang barely intact before the credits rolled, teeth brushing, Sebastian reading Where The Wild Things Are until Jack was dozing off and not fighting his nanny easing him lower into his pillows.

The ugly-as-hell clock tower was demolished in favour of making a little paddock for the cows. Bellamy joined the server and insisted on an extension to their little home.

When he realised how dark his room had gotten, Sebastian checked the time.

11:03.

He closed the lid of his laptop. Then he lay down on his bed with his eyes open and listened. Just his breathing and the beating of his heart were heard, slow and steady for Lord knows how long.

Then the front door creaked.

Footsteps padded across the floor, and the hall light snapped on. A shadow beneath the door passed by. He heard Hotch go into Jack’s room. Then the light went out again and a bedroom door closed.

Sebastian turned over and closed his eyes, now that he was ready to sleep.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #my writing #wc: 2k+#r: male #series #goodnight aaron

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fluorescentpipedream · 4 years

Text

Been learning some things about Dayton the last few days

It’s a little long so I don’t want to clog up anyone’s feeds

Details:

Age: 43

Family:

Parents - Abigail and Ethan Foster. Sibling: Charlotte,Lottie (25)

His parents are still alive though they don’t really acknowledge him much.

His little sister, Lottie, comes to visit him sometimes. She makes jewelry out of recycled materials and gave her brother an earring she made of a broken beer bottle, repurposed as a diamond. He wears it on the right side, though when asked why he only has one, he says “she knows I’ll lose the other one, so this way it’s more special”

He has said he’s a little jealous of his younger sister because “she gets to be normal, and our parents hate that there’s nothing of hers that can capitalize on. Her jewelry business is a fun thing to put her through college, they can’t steal her fortunes and lie to her that it’s in her best interest. I’m envious of her because of her normalcy. How stupid is that?”

Relationships:

Dayton was married when he had his seizure, his husband divorced him shortly after the incident, not being willing to take care of him.

He’s had a few girlfriends but he seems to prefer the company of men

About:

Dayton is highly dependent on drugs and/or alcohol to get by on the outside world because he just can’t seem to function without them when he’s trying to live on his own. He’s lived at the Center in the French Quarter off and on for 4 years, before that taking a stint in jail for public urination and intoxication. He also spit on the arresting officer. Writing about the incident later by saying “he finds it odd that Mardi Gras is legal public drunkenness for the amusement of all but only a few days after, in the stench of Bourbon Street’s parties where trickles of human depravity are being washed from the street, suddenly it’s deplorable and must be cleansed from sight. Though they might have gone easier on me if I hadn’t spit in the cop’s face. Oh well.”

Dayton’s initial slip into this strange state was after a seizure caused by his excessive drinking. The world was easier to handle if he was drunk or high all the time, he didn’t feel like he had to be as smart as he is, when he was riding a drug high. He collapsed at a Mensa event when he was 32, and during the grand mal seizure caused brain damage and for his IQ to slip from the 200s and down into a more average number. He still seems to be very intelligent, though he doesn’t really draw attention to it anymore. After his husband left him, he had apparently only shrugged, taking his ring off and handed it to his little sister, telling her “unconditional love is a joke”

The relationship with his parents finally came to light as well, and he outright told the first social worker when they had suggested he could recover in his parent’s care that they wouldn’t actually care for him anymore. Their free ride now had strings attached and he doubted that they could stand to care for him, since he was pushed to always provide for himself, since he was “smart enough”

He has the potential to live on his own, he just doesn’t have much of a drive to do so. When he’s left on his own he gets distracted and forgets to do even the most basic tasks. He means he forgets to eat, sleep, etc. At the Center, “I’m safe from myself”

Personality:

Self-loathing and tends to put himself down a lot

Suicidal although Lottie seems to be the only reason he won’t go through with killing himself, he loves her too much to leave her with that stigma of “genius brother takes his own life following years of drug and alcohol abuse

A very dark and, at times, unsettling sense of humor. It makes people uncomfortable and his general disinterest in people’s reactions make it worse

“Former” sex addict...he puts it in quotes. As long as he’s not drinking or using drugs he tends to abstain from dangerous sexual liaisons but once he’s under the influence it’s whatever, with whoever and however they choose. “I’m surprised I’m not infected yet”

He’s been with both men and woman and has no preference towards either. “It would be nice to have someone love me...I’m not in a position where I could be the one providing care to another, sadly dealing with me may be a full time job and not one most people are equipped for. I won’t “get better” over time, and crave companionship sometimes even over the obsessive desire to fade from this world”

Interests:

Serial killers. He absently makes profiles for those he reads about or watches reports on TV. He frequents websites that have details on true crime and likes to try to figure out cold cases, for fun. He’s actually figured out several, calling in anonymous tips to hotlines.

-Seriously- considering typing up his profile for the serial killer in San Francisco (Paul) and sending it to Theo deWinter, the agent on the case. He’d learned about the case online and after reading what he could find about the murders and the way the bodies are discovered, he really does want to help. He is concerned they wouldn’t take much consideration in the profile though because of his current mental state. It might hurt his credibility. Still, he says “better not eat anything you buy from Rascal Butcher shop on Main”

Piano, originally it was something he was forced into learning but now that he’s older he enjoys it quite a bit more. He sometimes sits in the grand entrance of the Center and plays on nice days

Writing. Kind of like a cross between Dean Koontz and Stephen King with some Lovecraft like monsters in there. He posts some of his shorter pieces on his blog

Has a tumblr blog called A Damaged Beautiful Mind. Most of the time he answers questions but a few years ago he wrote a rather long post about the inability for criminals, drug addicts and generally anyone who has been arrested to vote in national elections explains a lot about how the entire system is set up so only the elite are allowed to partake (excerpt at the end)

He loves watching psychological thrillers, horror movies and true crime documentaries

He used to want to be a federal profiler and even has degrees in forensic psychology and criminal law

Connections:

Arthur Powell sometimes invites him over for dinner in his room at the center.

He told Arthur he really liked his sister, Frankie once, promising it was “nothing creepy” he just thought she had a beautiful soul and her amazing talent was going to take her places. Arthur has her make him a mirror glaze birthday cake this year that was too beautiful to eat (he did though, only when Lottie came to spend the day with him and she cut into it after taking a picture of it with his phone.)

One of the orderlies brings him coffee and beignets on Saturdays and they talk. Dayton generally believes they’re just checking up on him to make sure he’s had a shower or eaten something recently.

Doctor Snow is his therapist, though lately he feels like he has to search for things to discuss with her. She’s expecting her first child, so the visits are brief and involves how he’s feeling, if he’s still having suicidal thoughts...etc.

He used to be a bit of a lech, being Mike Tomlin’s first foray into gay sex, pinning him to a wall at the Mensa event, the same night as his seizure.

Excerpt from his latest blog entry about election and voting rights, or rather the lack thereof

Any system which segregates the unmentionables and undesirables from the view of the rest only perpetuates the degeneration we’ve been seeing as a whole in this nation. It’s “progress” that the United States lived in a seemingly “Golden Age” under Barack Obama, but if one were to pull back the veil they need only skim the surface to realize, that was a moment of lapse, before the true waves of deceit, corruption and greed rushed back in again.

The years that Obama served in the White House only appear now as the receding of water before the inevitable tsunami. As a nation, we will always boil back down to the nagging truth of George Orwell in Animal Farm; “all animals are created equal, but some are more equal than others” Those that are detestable, or deemed unworthy by social standards, like any number of the “criminals” locked away for crimes enumeration, have been stripped of their ability to stand up for their beliefs.

Their voices are silenced, because by daring to stand against the societal norm, to lash out at the Thomas Moore, Utopian falsehood of America, they proclaimed loudly that the world is not only unfair, but stacked against us from the moment we take our first breaths. Were the US to return rights to the seemingly uneducated, drains on society, they would see real change. But that, in the essence of the truly corrupt leading the imbecilic masses, will never be the case. These commanding forces, like Nero the pig, would rather lead the masses into decisions that have been made for them all the while claiming that it is the people who lead themselves to this. And he can fix it all.

#character #details #skeet ulrich

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novembersrain · 5 years

Text

Her. - Roger Taylor Fanfic - (II)

Pairings: Roger Taylor x OC.

Summary: It’s been three months since Roger met Natalie Manning from New York City. Queen was in the midst of their Sheer Heart Attack tour, and girls were throwing themselves at him every chance they got. It wasn’t that he was opposed to it, but there was still one certain brunette who he couldn’t keep his mind off of.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions, and implications of sex, small age gap.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: Yay! Chapter two is here! I’ve gotten such a positive response on the first that I genuinely can’t even begin to tell you guys how happy I am that you’re enjoying it. I’ve gotten some requests to be upon a tag list so if you have any interest of being apart of that at all... Send me a direct message and I’ll be sure to add you to the list! I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

Chapter One Chapter Three

...

“I’m just saying, love. You grew up in California, isn’t that right? What’s the harm in taking a little trip down here to see us? It’s at the Santa Monica Civic. You love the beach. It’d be a two in one package deal.” Roger said, speaking softly into the payphone. He had been trying desperately to get his dear Natalie to come out and see him perform live ever since he left her three months prior, back in the Big Apple.

“You know that I would if I could, Roger, but I am just too busy right now.”

“Too busy for your favorite rock star? That’s not quite fair now, is it?”

Natalie laughed at this, but she didn’t reply, she didn’t need to. They’ve had this same interaction every time they spoke over the phone. Roger knew what she was going to say.

I have an audition coming up that I need to practice for, Roger.

Finals, Rog. Not this time.

You know I would be there if I could, but I have prior commitments I need to attend to.

I don’t have the money to do it this month. I need to save up for my trip back to California in December.

He had tried to persuade her in every single way that he knew how. Told her that he would help her learn her lines, would help her study for her finals, and even offered to pay for her flight out to whatever state he was in that week. Her response to that was, “I’ll let you do that when pigs fly.”

Roger then went to Freddie and asked him to design something similar with his graphic design skills so he could send it to Natalie. She still declined.

The silence that filled his ears was enough for him to realize that she was over this topic. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Listen–”

“Roger, I know. I know that you’re frustrated with my same answers over and over again, but now just isn’t a good time. I’m almost done here; I only have two weeks left. Then I’ll fly out to wherever you are and I am all yours. Alright?” Her voice was soft, soothing. It was reassuring for Roger to hear, but he wasn’t going to let himself get his hopes up. He had done that one too many times already.

“Alright.”

The mood of their routine phone call had changed. He was frustrated. He wasn’t use to people turning him down. Especially when he was sure the more resistance from her that he got, the more that he wanted to be with her. It was making his life more difficult.

Brian, Freddie, and John’s too. If they weren’t on stage, he was trying to talk to her on the phone. If he wasn’t on the phone with her, he was moaning and groaning to them about how much he missed her and how he wanted to throw himself out of the window of the tour bus.

“It isn’t like you guys are actually in a relationship, darling. You spent a full week with her in New York and promised to call her every single day. Just because you kept your word, doesn’t mean you’re going to get married when she finally comes out to see you.”

“Yes, Fred, I am quite aware of the fact that we are not actually in a relationship, thank you. I really needed you to remind me of that.”

“I’m just saying! You act as if your entire life is going to end if you don’t see her soon, but I feel that she’s making it quite obvious that coming out to see you just isn’t what she wants. Now, I’m not saying that she’ll never come out to see you, but for the love of God, stop pressuring her about it.”

That conversation he had with Freddie rung clear in his mind. She’s making it quite obvious that coming out to see you just isn’t what she wants.

“You don’t have to come, ever. If you don’t want to. I get it.”

“It’s not that, Roger. I promise you that it isn’t. It’s just– I’m 21. I still have a year left that I need to get through. You’ve already graduated from college. You're 26. You've already been through all of this. I would be there if I could, I know you know that. However, getting on a plane and flying out to a whole other state, just for a one-night show, it isn’t where my priorities are at right now. It really isn’t anything personal.”

There wasn’t much Roger could say at that. He could have yelled at her, told her that he doesn’t have to wait around for her, wishing for something that will never come, because she’s just holding him back anyways. Then he remembers that they aren’t in a relationship, and he’s holding onto unrealistic expectations from someone who just isn’t there yet. It isn’t her fault.

By this point, he can hear the guys yelling at him to get off the phone because it has been an hour since the show ended and there are people waiting to talk to him. Not to mention he’s used all of John’s quarters to have this long of a phone call.

“Right. Well. ‘Ve gotta go, love. I have some business to take care of. Let me know when you can talk next. I don’t want to interrupt your far more important priorities.”

“Roger, wait–“

He didn’t wait. He hung up, in fact. Petty? Yes. Did he care at this particular given moment? No.

I told all of my groupies to piss off because of her, was the immediate thought that came into his head. A fact that he planned to change immediately.

Meanwhile, in snowy New York City, Natalie was in a deep frown when she heard the other end of the line go dead. She had known Roger long enough to realize that he had quite the reputation for an explosive temper. The week that they spent together when he was still in New York was proof enough.

He threw a piece of bread at someone because his hair blowing in the wind was getting in their eyes. She would have deemed that action inappropriate had he not giggled at himself after the fact.

In fact, she would have been terribly angry with him now had she not been holding onto that one week they spent together, amongst all of their hour-long phone calls after that.

That week that they were together was something truly, well, blissful.

Upon meeting him outside of Juilliard, she didn’t give Roger much else of a passing thought. He was certainly easy on the eyes, but so were millions of other people in the world. It wasn’t something out of the ordinary. She had learned quite quickly that she would be eating her words. Roger asked if she would take her down to the cafeteria so he could fetch something to eat, and she was happy to do so. It was there that she would then deem Roger Taylor to be one of the most interesting men she had ever met in her life. He was funny, intelligent, had a wonderful taste in music, (he gushed to her for about twenty minutes over how good her cover of Imagine by John Lennon was), and he could hold a decent beat. And a decent tune. She was already cursing herself for not using the hour that they had just spent together previously getting to know him better. So, that’s what she did the week they spent together. She got to know all of him. All of him.

“You are an absolute idiot.” She mumbled to herself, setting the phone down on the hook and laying back into her mattress. Her life was much less eventful than his was, but… She had dreams of being on Broadway. Other than the classical training she had for singing throughout middle school and high school, she had nothing to back herself up with. Going to this college, getting the absolute most out of everything that she could was what was going to send her into the profession that she wanted to be in. She knew that. Everyone knew that. No ridiculously handsome and talented drummer in an incredible band was going to persuade that. Even if she truly hoped that she would let herself give in one day.

“Into fitness, are you? Well, I’m sure that we could find an activity or two that is absolutely certain to get your heart racing.”

The woman that Roger was talking to didn't oppose his idea, so he was quick to want to head out of the bar with her. This was typical Roger behavior. To head to a bar after a show and pick up a girl, a girl who would actually want to spend some time with him.

The drive that he had taken to his hotel was quiet, other than the light music playing from the radio. The drive was longer than he thought it was going to be. It was easy for him to do things like this. He had done it several times before, but in the moment, all he could think about was how this girl wasn’t Natalie.

It isn’t where my priorities are right now.

Right. That’s why he was taking someone else to his temporary home. Because she doesn’t want to be there with him. It’s not like he’s upset over it. That’d just be plain crazy. He wasn’t in a relationship. He could do whatever the hell he wanted without giving a damn what anyone else thought.

If that was true, then why does he feel so down in the dumps? Why can’t he stop thinking about Natalie? Why is he wishing that this were her that he was kissing right now? Why doesn’t this woman smell like sunflowers? Why don’t her dark roots match the rest of her hair? Maybe he should tell her. She might want to get them fixed. That would be a nice thing to do. Why is she looking at him like that? Aren't they having a good time?

“Natalie!”

Oh.

Oh. That’s why she’s looking at him like that. Maybe he should help her gather her things. No. She seems to be doing just fine without him.

“I’ll call you?” He yelled out after her but was only met with the loud slam of the hotel door.

Maybe he deserved that.

“I’m sorry, you did what?!” Brian asked, nearly in hysterics once being updated on the events that went on with Roger the night before. Freddie was rolling around on the floor laughing, and he swears that he’s never seen John laugh so hard over something before.

Great moral support.

“I was having an orgasm and I called out Natalie’s name, okay? You want me to say it again so the whole audience can hear you? I WAS HAVING AN ORGASM AND I CALLED OUT NATALIE MANNING’S NAME.”

“I’m sorry. You did what?” A softer voice asked, one that was enough to make the guys stop laughing and scramble off.

Roger turned around and was faced with the woman he had never wanted to see less at that moment.

“Hey, Nat. How was your flight?”

...

Taglist: @jennycidesstuff @sarai-ibn-la-ahad

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fanficsj · 6 years

Text

Show Me Who You Are Part 3

This is a series. I don’t know how many parts yet. I am in graduate school and working and so please be with me on the posting lol

PART 1. https://fanficsj.tumblr.com/post/173983617594/show-me-who-you-are-part-1-this-is-a-series-i

PART 2 https://fanficsj.tumblr.com/post/174100298659/show-me-who-you-are-part-2-this-is-a-series-i

FOLLOW MY REGULAR BLOG AND MY TRAVEL BLOG

@getupoffathatthang (for some reason I cannot be tagged)

@black-travels

Summary:

This series takes place over 20 years of friendship between M’Baku and Gugu a chubby warrior who is stubborn and drives M’Baku wild.

No warnings. I did try to incorporate Xhosha so that translations are at the bottom! Any feedback will be great. Enjoy!

THIS PART IS ABOUT 3500 WORDS

tag list:

@daytimeheroicsonly @lepetitcomte @myboyfriendgiriboy @muse-of-mbaku @therevolution-willbelive @purple-apricots

PROMPT: “Yea, don’t worry. I didn’t expect you to call me next week, not after this”

I have a read more link but it's not working on mobile. Sorry!

2004

Gugu was working in the garden and trying to prepare for her warrior training coming up next week. After running away for 6 hours, to M’Baku’s bedroom, hiding in his closet, falling asleep and being found by his pet pig Hoba, Kano agreed to let her become a warrior. More importantly, she skipped so many healing training sessions she was told she had to start over or quit.

Working in the gardens provided her with time to think and escape all the other girls who were fawning over stupid super giant M’Baku. He was standing tall at 6’5 and all muscle and was 17. Making him of marrying age or whatever the stupid traditions are. She was 15 as of 4 months ago and her celebration of life is in a month and she still doesn’t have a date for her party. Gugu would be a liar if she said she didn’t think about the other boys in her age group. She often was teased by Rayu and M’Baku about her silly little crushes on the boys in her class. Rayu was the son of Dayo and Tran and was often found hanging out with M’Baku, Mariba (M’Baku’s cousin) and Gugu.

She smiled to herself and began to hum the tune of the Jabari ancestors. After about an hour in her garden, she decided to plant a few more peppers and turn in for the night. She wanted to talk to Rayu about possibly going to his warrior training tomorrow. She got lost in thought thinking about him. She often told M’Baku about her feelings for him and how cute he looked when studying and how smart he is and how caring he is. She continued on planting her peppers when she felt someone watching her and looked over her shoulder to see Rayu standing to her side.

“Hi Gugu, you look nice today” He bent down and began helping her pot some of her flowers., that she left out to the side when planting the peppers

“Hello Rayu, why are you in my garden and who let you pass?”

“Your mother did, I came to ask you to be my date for my Warrior Formal. I understand that it is in a few weeks and that you have said no to everyone, but we are friends and I would like for you to be my date.”

Rayu had confided in M’Baku on numerous occasions about his crush on Gugu but he just laughed at him. Everyone knows to date Gugu means to truly date M’Baku, who Gugu claims to hate still.

“Of course, I will be your date to the Warrior Formal Rayu. Did you know your name is Asian?” Gugu said matter-of-factually and passed him some orchids and began collecting more potting soil for him.

Rayu chuckled, just like Gugu to point out something to avoid a conversation about feelings. “Yes I do, my fathers went to the village of Rayu and Dayo proposed to Tran. When my birth parents died, and they took me, they asked me if I wanted my name changed and I said yes and I chose the name myself.” Rayu informed Gugu of his name and she listened intently with her big brown eyes shining like the sun.

“I didn’t know that at all! You should open up more.”

“In due time Gugulethu, in due time.”

“Yuyu?”

“Yes, Gugu?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yes, anything. I won’t tell. I promise” Rayu set her plants and pots down and Gugu put her head on his shoulder.

“I never kissed anyone or went on a date before. What if I go to the formal with you and then people make us kiss? Sometimes the older kids do that” She could feel her cheeks heating up at the thought.

“Well I am 17 now and I am not a kid. I am a warrior and I will not kiss you unless you give me your full consent” Rayu squeezed Gugu to his side and they sat like that for what seemed like forever.

“Can you walk me back to my quarters Yuyu?” She looked at him and smiled and his heart stopped.

“Nantoni na oyifunayo kum ukumkanikazi wam”

They walked hand in hand back to the healing quarters and it did not go unnoticed. M’Kabo noticed the pair and so did Dayo. M’Kabo smiled, but he also knew his son and knew how upset he would be not knowing his two friends were dating now. Dayo looked on with kind eyes but worried about how Kano would react. He was very protective of Gugu and any person who showed her any interest. He nodded at his son and they left the pair alone and continued with their day.

Gugu and Rayu watched Mariba and the palace children play and on numerous occasions even stopped to look out one of the huge windows, over the mountains. The skies were extremely clear and the winds were low. The stood at the window holding hands looking out at the North Villages which is comprised of 3 smaller villages and 2 ports.

The North Village were known for their extravagant boats, culinary skills, ice skating quarters and seafood. For the Jabari lands to be so cold, the day was warm, and everyone went down the rivers to go fishing and crab catching. M’Baku spent most of his time there learning to cook, he has recently turned into a vegetarian and wanted to learn how to prepare his meals on his own. Gugu wasn’t too fond of seafood but Rayu and Tran both came from the North Village. He loved the crab Tran cooked for him and had crab dishes every other day. It reminded him of his mother and how much she ate fish whenever she came back home from her spy missions.

Rayu and Gugu finally reached her quarters in and the palace and hugged.

“Thank you for saying yes to being my date. It means a lot to me Gugu. It really does.” Rayu went to kiss her hand but Gugu pulled it back and bent down to give him a quick peck on the lips. Rayu blushed at her kissing him and at her bending down to do so.

“Thank you for asking me. I was waiting for you to do so for over a month now. M’Baku told me of your crush.” She let go of his hand and opened the doors to her home. Walking past Aila, (who was playing some game with her friends) was easier than she thought. Recently Aila asked her every question in the book about her day so she had some gossip to tell the school children. She walked past her parents who refused to look at her, so she knew they knew about Rayu and her cheeks heated for the second time today.

Opening the door to her bedroom her eyes went directly to M’Baku eating cookies and reading her diary, as per usual. She has resorted to keeping a secret one filled with all the important things in her life.

“You know I hate you Baku, why are you here?”

“My father tells me you and Rayu are an item and I want to ensure that he is nice to you”

“We are not an item” She emphasized the word item but then she jumped up on her bed and squealed. “But then Baku we kissed! Well, I kissed him, but he didn’t push me away and I can’t believe it took him this long! I should have asked him out when I wanted to, but you didn’t want me to because then you’ll be alone. I’m going to get you a girlfriend!!!!” Gugu all but screamed his head off and he laughed the entire time.

“I am happy you two are finally getting it together. I am sooooooo tired of Baku she’s great, Baku he’s amazing blah blah blah. I would pray to the Great Gorilla Hanuman to give me the strength to not slap you two.” He bellowed and Gugu slapped his arm.

“I have a friend you can take to the formal,” Gugu mentioned trying to get him to ask someone out, he hasn’t dated at all since turning 14.

Even Gugu went out once with one of the fishermen trainees in the North Village of Ulwandle when she was 14. He was nice but M’Baku followed them around on their date, which they both noticed. For a warrior, he sure was horrible at hiding. Needless to say, Gugu was not asked out by him again. They still talk and often fish together but only if she brings Mariba along, Mara’s orders. He was nice company away from M’Baku and Rayu. He apologized for not asking her out again, which she expected to be the work of Rayu and M’Baku.

She smiled and told him, “Yea, don’t worry. I didn’t expect you to call me next week, not after this” and pointed to her two best friends hiding in the bushes. Mariba was close by. M’Baku reached out and grabbed her by the arm.

“If I tell you a secret, you have to PROMISE me not to tell anyone Gugulethu. This is the most important thing I have ever had to tell you. You are my favorite friend and the only trustworthy person I have ever met in my whole entire life.” M’Baku sat up and pulled Gugu to where she was basically in his lap and their noses were touching.

Gugu grabbed M’Baku’s face and pushed herself off of him, “I promise Baku! Now tell me right now or we will fight to damn it”

“I have a date, and we made love and it was last night, and I am terrified because I don’t want her to think I am here just for the sex. I am only 17 years old. I haven’t had a girlfriend yet. I thought I would have my first sexual encounter with you when we were in our 20’s. What if my father finds out? Actually, what if he tells my mother. She will force me to make this girl my girlfriend. My mother forbids sexual connections before marriage. She made me promise her. Even though I promised you. Our promise means more though. Are you mad? Do you hate me? This is unfair to me. The girl said she didn’t want me as a boyfriend and-“

“Can you shut the hell up M’Baku and breathe?!”

M’Baku took a few deep breaths and began to calm down. His mind was spinning. He and his date agreed to have sex, but they are both only 17 and that made him even more afraid of asking anyone out. On Gugu’s 15 birthday they promised they would be each other’s first but only after Gugu finished university. He realized now how immature and selfish that was. He just wanted to make sure no man hurt her or tried to trick her into love.

Deep down inside he knows how much she wants the boys to notice her. Just like his sister, who has been recently caught having a secret boyfriend. No dating for the Princess of Jabari until she is 16, or so his mother says. He huffed out in irritation at the thought of his mother. Ever so strict but was very wild in her past, especially when it came to his father.

“I am better now. Sorry. It’s just that my father came into my room to tell me we needed to talk and I thought surely it was about me and Moril-“

“Oh, my Hanuman! It was Moril? Oh, wow Baku I never thought you could get her.”

“Shut up!”

“Sorry stupid supergiant!”

“Shut up little girl! And yes, I know you’re not little you’ll kill me yadda yadda yadda. He comes in to tell me you and Rayu are a couple and I was so relieved it wasn’t about that.”

“Even though I hate you, you are a good person Baku. Moril and you consented and you both are 17. Come we will go and watch the East Village from my windows. They are preparing for the fruit festival and I am excited because my celebration of life will be there, in the East Village. The village of my ancestors, the village of the Zikhulu.”

Gugu grabbed M’ Baku’s hand and they watched all the villagers run around. They looked like colorful ants and it made Gugu laugh until her stomach hurt. Kaby really came through on his promise to her. He built food shelters and bought surplus food down every single week to all four villages. The winter was over and Wakanda was becoming brighter and happier. Gugu ignored M’Baku’s comment about being her first, they agreed on it a few months ago but she was just 14 (well technically 15 but still) then and dumb. M’Baku is an adult now. He must prepare to take over the throne at 26. Those are the rules. The firstborn must become King or Queen at 26 if they decline they are sent into exile. They must marry by 30. Must acquire a child by 40. The Ensure no ruler led forever or for too long, keeping up with modern times. She started to think of her future and remembered that M’Baku’s wife was already chosen for him.

Gugu leaned against his huge frame and sighed, “Do you think Rayu and I could become a couple? What if in the future my heart belongs to someone else? What if you want to marry someone else and not the bride your mother chooses? Why don’t you get to choose your own bride? Isn’t that old fashion?” Gugu was playing with the fur on his armor and seemed to wander off in thought.

M’Baku looked down at her and huffed, “I can pick my own bride if the one chosen for me is not one I would like to take. If I refuse her I must battle my mother and father, and I must win and already have a willing and ready wife who will marry me on the spot. It is tradition and it is written in so that it could never be changed. My father battled my grandfather for my mother and he did not win. My father ran away with my mother because she was already pregnant with me. My father is an only child, there was no one to rule, my grandmother died when he was 10 and his father was dying and so they battled again. My grandfather lost. My mother became Queen and my father was not allowed to rule until I was 5 years old. We have broken tradition before. I will do it again if need be.”

Gugu took in the new information and sighed. Worry painting her face.

“Why are you so worried Gugu? This love talk is not like you.” M’Baku was starting to worry. Lately, Gugu has been shy and reserved and observing all the love connections between the people in the village.

“Because I want you to be happy. What if you marry the wrong person?”

This is not the conversation he wanted to be having right now. He wanted to talk about Moril and how much he feels like a strong man, but also horrible because he is keeping secrets from his parents. Not about his stupid arranged marriage.

“I do not think I will. I like who they have chosen for me. I also know she will not go for it. I have 9 years Gugulethu. I will have my fun and my parents will choose another woman for me if my arranged bride declines. If the new woman declines, I have 2 years to find a wife, or the throne goes to my sister. Honestly, I don’t care about becoming King, I only care about protecting the Jabari Lands and its people.”

She sat up upon hearing the new information, “Who did they choose for you? Is she from the healing council? Is it Sepa? She has a crush on you and her father entered her into the pageant this year. She is the most beautiful person in all of Wakanda.”

M’Baku eyed Gugu and laughed, “No, it is not her and I will not tell you who it is. But Sepa is beautiful, a bit on the skinny side though. I like your size more, tall, chubby, with stomach. The type of person to just show up and command”

Gugu blushed for the third time that day, and for the third time that day even you couldn’t see it on her dark skin.

“Maybe I will marry Rayu and we will part take in sexual things as well”

M’Baku jumped up from the bed and began pacing, “You are 15 years old Gugulethu. You should not be thinking of boys and marriage and sexual actions.”

“You literally made me promise you that we will do it!”

“That was before I did it. I shouldn’t have done that to you! You are young. A child still. A warrior in training. The elders are putting so much pressure on you. I hate it. You need to fight and study. You must enroll in the university. You will become the brightest and most knowledgeable warrior of our times. I will enroll as well.”

Gugu watched him pacing her bedroom and her frustration turned into admiration. He was always going on and on about university. He wanted her to teach, not fight. He got upset if she was hit too hard, kicked too hard, stabbed too hard, or anything that could damage her. They often sparred together, and he let her win every single time. She knew he had a point but everyone around her is moving so fast and she hates being left behind. She also hated fitting in. She took what he said and remembered to write it down in her diary later.

“You are right, for once in your whole life. I will train, I will consider university and I will not have the sexual actions unless married. I will, however, kiss him more and you have no say so in that Baku. I just want happiness right now as a teenager. No more adult talk. Come we must go to bed. You will stay the night.” She demanded of him to stay overnight. Her parents hated it and his parents often complained that when he was staying over, he was always hours late to training the next day.

M’Baku climbed into the giant bed that could easily fit 6 of him and hummed. His parents chose her to be his wife. They chose her during the seasons of storms. The season when she told his father, the King, he should bow to her. At 13 he was destined to marry Gugulethu Moratu, and he wasn’t happy about it then, he’s not happy about it now, but he’s for damn sure not happy that Rayu has caught her eyes and he wants them to end now.

Gugu has been his favorite friend since she was born. She is so cute, yet so fierce, so childish, yet too grown for her own good. He wants her to be happy, more than he wants Rayu to be happy. He loves Rayu like a brother, wants him to be happy as well, but if Rayu hurts her he will end him. He looks over at the little warrior and smiles, she isn’t done growing yet and she already is taller than Rayu. He smiles, this will be fun to watch, Rayu is a man of control, even more so than M’Baku. He starts to laugh as he realizes this relationship will either end before it truly starts or Rayu will learn that Gugu leads everything in her life and will have to fall in line.

Gugu rolled over and kicked him in the leg, “What are you laughing at you, stupid giant?”

“Ndiyakuthanda Gugulethu. You are my favorite friend and you deserve happiness. Even if you are 6’2 and Rayu is 5’10.” He laughed loud and bright and Gugu hit him with her diary.

She was about to put it back on her nightstand when she noticed he was on page 209 of one of her older diaries. The page where she admitted how much she missed him. The same page Aila read and showed him. The same page that made them friends again. The same page that made him make an effort to make her happy and keep her laughing. She wanted to become a warrior and instead, she became a teenage girl caught up in love with her favorite friend, while crushing on her best friend.

She refused to look at him. She turned over and scooted back on her mattress and spoke to the back of his head, “Ndiyakuthanda Baku. ekupheleni kwamaxesha”

TRANSLATIONS

nantoni na oyifunayo kum ukumkanikazi wam = Anything you ask of me my queen

ulwandle = the sea

zikhulu= great ones

ndiyakuthanda= I love you

ekupheleni kwamaxesha= to the end of time

#winston duke #m'baku #black panther #m'baku x reader #m'bakuxreader #masterlist

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lover-of-she · 3 years

Text

Pound Cakes

The saloon's warm air engulfed Klyde, and he flinched from the sudden warmth. The blizzard outside wasn't stopping anytime soon, and he let out the breath he was holding in.

"Klyde! There you are!" His mother called out excitedly from behind the counter. "Hey, ma."

Klyde smiled at her and walked behind the counter to greet her properly. They hugged quickly before his father interrupted. "Well, there you are my boy!"

His father's gruff voice caught his attention and Klyde rolled his eyes playfully, and made his way up the stairs behind the counter. The stairs led him to the above living quarters of his family. The familiar scent of fresh pound cake gave him a clue that his little sister was baking as she usually did.

His father's gun shone in the dim light of the lanterns lighting up the room. "You still carry around that old thing?" Klyde asked, shaking his head. He faked disappointment. "Oh be quiet, I'm ready for anything with this bad boy." he boasted, posing extravagantly.

Klyde laughed making his way over to his father. They hugged, and when parting they laughed at each other. The two copied each other's motions and leaned on the railing looking down at the grand saloon.

The two made small talk and spoke about where Klyde was going next after his visit. Klyde wasn't sure where to go. He had found enough gold in the Yukon to last him more than a lifetime, and he had been many places.

"I'm not sure where I'm heading next. I think I'll try and find a wife, and we'll settle down." Klyde liked the idea of having someone to keep him company other than his sled dog team, which was currently at the house he owned just outside of the town.

His father smiled at him, and his mother looked up to the balcony and clapped. "There's a new family that moved in recently, they have a daughter your age!" His mother smiled up at him.

Klyde smiled, "After the storm, I'll go introduce myself."

His parents smiled at him, and he felt his face heat up. He hurriedly rushed into the kitchen to get away from their prying eyes.

"Well well well, look whos home!" Calla his fifteen-year-old sister, spoke playfully. He chuckled at her playfulness. She smiled and hugged him tightly. "You baking again?"

She pulled away "Yeah, this time I'm making a different recipe though. It's a strawberry flavor." Calla moved away from him, going over to her second batch, and began to stir the batter. Klyde took a seat on the nearby stool. The lanterns cast a shadow upon the two children.

They fell into silence, and for the first time, in a while, Klyde felt comfortable around another person. He had always been quite shy around people, even ones he knew. The reason he went away on these adventures was to get away from people. Klyde never felt at peace near fellow humans.

It threw him off that he was comfortable, but he relaxed into the feeling. Klyde closed his eyes, and tilted his head back, feeling sleepy. "Why don't you go take a nap. You've had a long journey." Calla stated, sounding like a mother.

Klyde opened his eyes and yawned. "Fine, but wake me when the pound cakes are done. I want to be the first to taste 'em." She smiled, nodding at him "Will do, now get out."

Klyde sluggishly walked down the winding hallway. He made his way to the room he had claimed as a young child. The door swung open, colliding with the wall behind it. Klyde smiled, lighting a match. He lit a candle, and set it down onto the dresser, Klyde took his boots off and got comfortable on his bed.

The sounds of wind blowing lulled him to sleep.

The noise of something moving around his room woke Klyde, and he stirred. The feeling of reluctance filled him. He flipped onto his other side, trying to sleep again.

A large body jumped onto him and knocked the wind out of his lungs. Klyde jumped and began to panic. Until he was being licked by a very furry animal.

"Kita! Off!" The family Newfoundland continued to harass him with love, and Klyde heard laughter from the entrance of the room. "Kita! Off!" This time the dog listened. He jumped off of the man and jumped about the room excitedly.

The black dog barked, and huffed at Klyde, putting Klyde's hand in his mouth and pulling him up. Klyde lost his balance and fell off of the bed. The dog barked once more and repeated the action.

Klyde was pulled out of the room, eyes half-open, and followed along with the dog. Calla was at the end of the hall, and Kita dropped Klyde's hand, running off into another part of the house.

Klyde wiped his hand on the pants he was wearing and rubbed his face. The sleep faded from his face, and Calla giggled. "Does it always take you this long to wake up? You used to be up before all of us." She asked amused.

Klyde huffed, and pushed her aside, "What is it you want?" Calla followed him into the living room. "The pound cakes are ready! You said you'd be my guinea pig!"

Klyde recalled what he had promised the younger, and got up from the red couch. She hurriedly pulled his arm, making him slip a little before regaining his balance. Klyde walked along with her, hitting his head once on a doorway.

Calla laughed, "Geez, you are tall. You must've gotten it from Papa."

Klyde thought about what she said, he looked, acted, and was just a little taller than grandpa was. The man himself was shy, with his stubble and scraggly black hair. And even in his old age was at least 6'7. While Klyde was 6'8.

The two were very similar. And Klyde was flattered being compared to the gentle giant of a man.

Calla led Klyde to the kitchen. Klyde stood in the doorway awkwardly. "What are you doing? Sit down." Calla laughed.

Klyde complied with the command, sitting at the island. He sat quietly waiting for Calla to be done cutting the cake. Kita's bark bellowed through the walls, and Klyde laughed. "What is he doing?" Calla laughed, "He's gotten big since you last were here. I can't believe how big he has gotten. He used to be so small." Calla smiled thinking back to the time where Klyde brought the small puppy home from the mountains.

"You've been teaching him how to pull a sled?" Klyde asked, wondering what Calla wanted to do with him. "I have actually, he can pull the sled with me on it now. I almost fell off the other day." Calla stated and chuckled.

Klyde laughed trying to imagine what it looked like. Calla set down a plate of pound cake. The small pieces of strawberry mixed in made the bread look red. The cake looked fluffy and yummy.

Klyde took a bite out of it and hummed as the taste filled his mouth. Calla waited eagerly for the feedback on her work. Klyde swallowed the delicious substances and smiled.

"That was great Calla!" he said excitedly, looking like an excited child. Calla jumped up and down, yelling excitedly. Klyde laughed and stuffed his face with more of the pound cake.

The two sat at the island, talking about random things that came to mind, and eating the pound cake.

#Lover'sstories

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forged-through-trials · 3 years

Photo

Ruin and I legged back toward the entrance to Kerrach. There was found the Ayleid King, as well as all of the other ghosts I’d helped along this journey. I approached the king, and presented him with the white crystal. Ayleid King: “...You have it... champion... I can feel it... the Heart of Kerrach... give it to me... yes, YES!” Trials: “Why do you talk like that?” Ayleid King: “In... life... I had... a strOOOOOke.” Trials: “...well, sorry about that. Do go on.” Ayleid King: “We... are free... my people... free at last... Dagon’s spawn thrown down... thanks to our champion... our savior...” Trials: “...” I flushed, covering my face in embarrassed humility. Ayleid King: He held the crystal in his hands. “...I feel the Heart pulsing... it calls to me... to us... to all my people... we must go now to our reward...” Ruin: “Your reward?” Ayleid King: “Our reward is... to die the final death... to sleep forever... It has been so long... too long... We wish for peace...” Ruin: “I cannot imagine your torment. But you will have your peace at last.” Ayleid King: “...But you... our champion... your reward is not that... your reward is different...” Trials: “I...” I hesitated for a moment. “I don’t need a reward.” Ayleid King: “...Once... when Kerrach... was green... and the waters... flowed... bright and blue... when birds sang... in the trees... Then I would have given you... jewels... and riches... power... but no longer... now all I have... is the Sigil of Kerrach... symbol of my people... please... take it... it will help you... as it has helped me... these many ages... take it... and remember us...” Trials: “...” Reluctantly, I accepted the ring. Ayleid King: “...And now... champion... there is one... last task... to perform... for Kerrach...” Trials: “...anything. Name it, and I’ll do it.” Ayleid King: “...To watch our joyous death... to watch our passing... and to remember... us... there are no others now... remember us... “...We go now... to our reward... follow us... to the sacred well... and farewell...” The ghosts of Kerrach vanished one by one, fading from this room. When all of them had disappeared, Ruin and I rushed over toward the great well as instructed, as I was eager to offer that last service to these poor ghosts.

We arrived just in time. The formerly enslaved ghosts arranged themselves around the well, and the Ayleid King bathed the Heart of Kerrach crystal into the light-column over the well. The ritual had begun, and the king spoke words, which I didn’t understand, but I presumed that I was hearing the words of the ancient Ayleid language... which raised all kinds of questions about where these ghosts learned to speak Cyrodiilic. As the ritual commenced, and the Ayleid King spoke his long-forgotten words, pillars of light shot out from the statue of El-Ataran, and one by one, the ghosts that I had rescued vanished in brilliant bursts of light, starting at the far left from where I was facing the well, then the one to the furthest right, then the one to the inner right, then the one to the inner left, now leaving only the king himself. He spoke some final words in his ancient tongue, and as he vanished in the final burst of light, I felt that feeling of being squeezed through a tube of ice, and Ruin and I quickly found ourselves outside of Breakneck Lair. It was night, exceedingly late, and we both were tired as hell. Yet, I felt good. Sure, the Ayleids, in life, were bad guys--slavers!--but even they didn’t deserve slavery. After thousands of years under the torment of the Dremora, they’d more than paid the price for their crimes. It was more than time for them to go free, and I was happy to be the one to finally send them to their rest. And I am happy to be the one to carry the memory of Kerrach, as the king had requested. The last living reminder of a forgotten city and people.

Of course, it being nearly 3AM when we got out of there, we had to hike back to town through the dark to get our own rest. The following day, Ruin and I made the rounds to the shops, selling off the loot we’d plundered from Kerrach. That eventually brought us back to Mach-Na’s Books. While browsing her wares and offering my own, I remembered what she’d said the day before, about the local guards shaking her down. I asked if she could elaborate on the situation. Mach-Na: “Ever since Ulrich Leland took over the Captain of the Guard post, this city’s gone downhill. It’s getting almost scary to walk the streets.” Trials: I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Really, a Captain!? I guess we’re going to have to track down two witnesses to the Emperor picking his nose if we wanna oust him.” Ruin: “That’s still bugging you, isn’t it? Well, perhaps because this is not the Imperial City, the laws might be a little more lax this far out east. “But ma’am, go on. How has the situation deteriorated since Leland became Captain?” Mach-Na: “The guards have imposed new, ridiculously heavy fines for every infraction under the sun! They almost seem to make up laws just for charging fines.” Trials: “Really? Like what?” Mach-Na: “It is considered an offense to shower naked. ��Stepping on a coin will be punished by a flogging. “Eating a neighbor’s baby is strictly forbidden--” Trials: “I would hope that last one would be illegal!” Mach-Na: “And lastly, it is illegal to die inside the town limits.” Trials: “Good luck collecting on that one.” Mach-Na: “If you can’t pay the fine, they can take your property away or toss you in the castle dungeon. Nothing we can do about it, really. “If you’re interested, go talk to Llevana Nedaren. She seems the most outspoken against Ulrich and his new fines.”

Ruin and I were on the case, and went seeking “Llevana Nedaren” as instructed. We found her near the town graveyard, and I got her attention, and spoke to her. Llevana: “You seem far too nice to be one of Ulrich’s men. What can I do for you?” Trials: “Well, you might say we’re investigating Leland’s administration. What can you tell us about the new fines he’s imposed?” Llevana: “Don’t even get me started! That madman won’t be satisfied until everyone in town is dead broke! Or in jail. I’m sure he’s just lining his pockets with the gold of the good citizens of Cheydinhal. “Take my good friend, ‘Aldos Othran,’ for example. In the last moth, he’s been fined six times! All for being drunk and disorderly.” Ruin: “Umm, was he?” Llevana: “Have you ever gone past a guard barracks? When are the not ‘drunk and disorderly’?? What kind of a stupid fine is that!?” Ruin: “That’s... not really how the law--” Trials: “’Rules for thee, not for me.’ Preachin’ to the choir, there, Sister.” Ruin: “...” He sighed. “Well, what became of your friend?” Llevana: “Well, Aldos couldn’t pay the last two fines, so they seized his home and threw him into the street until he could pay it. Bastards!” Trials: Sardonically. “You know, because being homeless is just so conducive to making money.” Ruin: “Trials, you’re homeless, and you have--” Trial: I immediately covered Ruin’s mouth. “Ruin, please don’t say out loud how much gold I have in a town where the guards are actively shaking people down for money.” Ruin: He brushed my hand aside, turning to Llevana once more. “Is there anyone who can help? The Count, perhaps?” Llevana: “The Count? He could care less about our plight. As long as the roast suckling pig is delivered to his feast-table, he’s as happy as can be. “But now that you mention it, there’s one man who seems to care; ‘Garrus Darelliun,’ second-in-command of the town guard. I hear he isn’t happy with Ulrich. I’m not sure if there’s anything he can do, but you might try speaking to him. He can be found roaming the County Hall of the castle most of the time.”

Thusly tipped off, we made for the castle, whereupon we saw the Count holding court. Garrus was in attendance. I thought briefly of speaking to Count Indarys himself, but after the experience in the Imperial City, and in Skingrad, I knew going to the top wouldn’t get me very far. Instead, we spoke to Garrus as instructed, once we were able to get him alone. Garrus: “What do you want?” Trials: “Hey, we’re kind of new in town, but we’ve been hearing some rumors about guard-corruption, and I was wondering if we could speak to you about it?” Garrus: “It appears you’ve spoken to Llevana, from the sound of it. I know she sounds like a raving madwoman, but she isn’t far from the truth. Ulrich is definitely up to something.” Ruin: “What makes you suspect him?” Garrus: “While Ulrich keeps his quarters locked, I’ve managed to get a glimpse inside once. The things he has in there could never be purchased on a Captain’s salary. At first I thought maybe he was from wealthy stock, but many of the goods have been delivered recently.” Trials: “Agreed, that sounds super sus’. So, why don’t we just skip the ‘two witnesses to Ulrich scratching his butt’ step and go straight to the Count?” Garrus: “I’d love to bring him to task in front of Count Indarys, but I dare not without a solid witness that will speak against him.” Trials: Sardonically. “Oh? Only one witness needed? How novel. “Anyway, Llevana seems ready to scream her head off about Ulrich at any opportunity. How about we get her to testify?” Garrus: “Honestly, she’s never done anything to be fined or get into trouble... yet. The person I’d love to bring in as a witness is Aldos Othran... that is, if we can sober him up for five minutes! “I haven’t approached him myself, as Ulrich has eyes everywhere--” Trials: “It sounds like it’s more than just Ulrich who is in on this. AGAB continues to be my Watch-Words.” Garrus: “...’Assigned Goose at Birth’?” Trials: “...” I shook my head. “No it means...” I thought better of it. “Never mind. I get it, we’re new in town, so Ulrich won’t be watching out for us. We’ll see if we can talk to Aldos for you. Where can we find him?” Garrus: “Aldos is living on the street now that his house has been seized. I begged Ulrich to give him more time, but he wouldn’t! “It shouldn’t be hard to find Aldos. Just follow the smell of stale mead.” Ruin: “That may just lead us back to Trials.” Trials: “Hey! I drink fresh mead!” Garrus: “One last word of warning; beware of Ulrich. I wouldn’t confront him at this time, as he’ll surely have you thrown in jail. And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you the consequences if you choose to strike him down. Even if Ulrich doesn’t do things by the letter of the law, I do.” Trials: “Ya know that sticking to ‘the letter of the law’ is what’s allowing Ulrich to get away with all this, right? And what ‘law’ says; ‘when in doubt, hire some drunk lizard to do ninety-percent of the legwork for you?’“ Garrus: “It’s right here, on page forty-two.” He offered me his guardsman’s handbook. Trials: I look into the book, finding the relevant passage immediately. “Huh... well I’ll be damned.” Garrus: “Why do you think the Empire tolerates adventurers in the first place? I mean, other than because one seems to save the world every few years?”

Once we were back on the street, we noticed this guard standing in front of a house. I assumed that must’ve been Aldos Othran’s former home. With no better leads, I decided to chat up the guard to see if he could point me toward Aldos. Guard: “I’m sorry, no one except the Cheydinhal City Guard are allowed inside this home. Due to outstanding fines owed to the city, Aldos Othran’s property has been seized and is now sealed until further notice.” Trials: “Ho, Class-Traitor. I was wondering if you could pull those jackboots off of the neck society long enough to point me in the direction of the previous owner of this newly stolen property.” Guard: He scowled. “Hey, I don’t need this sass. I’m just doing my job!” Trials: I waved a hand in front of my face with disgust. “Oooph, and which part of your job forbids you from dental hygiene? Just because I know you’ve been huffing your own farts doesn’t mean your breath needs to actually smell like it.” Guard: “Yeah... well...” He attempted a Speech-roll. “You’re... your hair is stupid!” [ Failed. ] Trials: I smirked knowingly. “Uh-huh, yeah, I’m sure your mother was very proud when you flunked out of the Fighters Guild and took this position as a consolation prize. I can’t imagine how stressful it is to guard an empty building all day. I’m sure Ulrich only sends his best for jobs like this! “Now could you please point that guar-butt you call a mouth away from me and tell me where I can find Aldos Othran?” Guard: “...” He scowled all the harder. “I’m going to talk to Ulrich and have him make back-talking a City Guardsman a fineable offense!” Trials: “Sure, hell, I got the coin to pay to dis you all day. How’s it feel to know some drunk lizard makes more in a day than you do in a year? But man-oh-man, imagine carrying a big sword on your hip and being that insecure. Sorry, can’t relate!” Guard: Visibly fuming. “Just... just get out of my face, lizard! Othran is in the alley to the left.” Ruin: “...did you really have to be so rude to him?” Trials: “I didn’t have to be, but I wanted to be, and when nine-times-out-of-ten I wind-up doing these chumps’ job for them, and the tenth-time-out-of-ten I wind-up cleaning up their corruption, I’m going to take every opportunity I can to rub their noses in it.”

By the City Wall, we finally found the Elf himself; Aldos Othran. Aldos: Singing. “Flyyyyyy, flying in the skyyyyy! Cliff-Racer fly soooooo hiiiiiiiigh! Flyyyyy!” Trials: “...ugh, please don’t remind me of those vile creatures. I still have nightmares of them chasing me across Lord Dres’ plantation.” Aldos: Slurred. “...wh-who’re you?” Ruin: He fanned away the air in front of his face and looked disgusted. “...Garrus really wasn’t kidding about the stale mead.” Trials: “Hey, we were wondering if we could talk to you about testifying against Ulrich Leland?” Aldos: “Ha! That stupid s’wit!? Throw me out of my home, will he?” Trials: “Well, uh, we’re working on getting your house back. We just need you to--” Aldos: “I’ll show him a thing or two about messing with an Othran!” Trials: “Okay, fine, just ignore me. I’ll be here when you finish raving.” Aldos: “All I did was fall down, sure. Maybe even vomited on the floor of the tavern. Charge me six times, Ulrich...? Charge me, you fetcher!?” Ruin: “That does sound like it ought to be up to he owner of the tavern to charge you.” Trials: “Six times! What, did they charge you per chunk you blew?” Aldos: “Well, I’m not standin’ for this any more. You, come with me and I’ll show you what the Othrans can do when their backs are to the wall!” Trials: “...I have a bad feeling about this.”

Aldos stormed off after that. Ruin and I gave chase, following him back toward his old home, where he immediately confronted the guard out front of it. Aldos: “This is my house! Get out of the way... move, I say!” Guard: “Sir, this property has been seized by his lordship, the Count of Cheydinhal. Leave immediately.” Trials: “Oh, Aldos, I don’t think this is a good ide--” Aldos: “I said move! Or by my ancestors I’ll put you on the ground with a split lip!” Trials: “Aldos, antagonize the guard, but don’t threaten him!” Ruin: “Actually, don’t antagonize him, either.” Guard: “Sir, I must warn you that threatening a city guardsman is an offense punishable by a fine of no less than 50 gold. Pay, or be jailed!” Trials: “...I don’t think you understand what a ‘warning’ is. Hint; it doesn’t include an ‘or else.’” Aldos: “You s’wit! How dare you! Ulrich be damned! He can take his fine and stuff it up his backside!” Trials: “As much as I appreciate that burn, you’re just diggin’ yourself deeper, Aldos.” Guard: “You’ve been warned. You are now under arrest. Please come with me.” Trials: I stomped my foot. “Look, bootlicker, I’ll pay his fine, just leave the man al--” Aldos: “I’ll go nowhere with you, fetcher! Nowhere!”

Guard: “Sir, I must inform you that dying within the city limits is an offense--” Trials: “You killed him, you bastard!” Guard: “You saw what happened. I had no choice! Aldos attacked first, and I had to defend myself.” Trials: “He came at you with a rusty butter-knife! That thing wouldn’t cut scrib-jelly!” Guard: “If you don’t like it, take it up with Ulrich.” Trials: I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know, one day honest citizens are going to stand up to you crooked guardsmen!” Guard: He gasped, looking panicked. “They are!? Oh no! H-have they set a date?” Trials: I rolled my eyes. “Oh, so you’re a murdering thug and an idiot. Good to know.”

This was a fine mess to find myself in. Our key-witness was dead, and I had to bring the grim news to Llevana. She was Aldos’ best friend, so I’m sure she’d want to know what happened to him. I found her in her home, which was right next to Aldos’ former home. Llevana: Deadpan. “Oh no. They killed him? I can’t believe this.” Trials: “You don’t sound very broken up about it. I thought you were his best friend?” Llevana: “Although there is no change in my patrician facade, I can assure you my heart is breaking. “I’d grown to become fond of him. I wanted to take him into my house, but I was afraid. Now look what’s become of him.” Trials: “Aww, you wanted to be the next ‘Mrs. Othran’.” Llevana: With anger slowly boiling to the surface. “There are no more options left! Ulrich must be dealt with, and actions speak louder than words!” Trials: I blinked in surprise. “Whoa, that escalated quickly!” Llevana: “Dark elves come in two modes; drunk, and angry. And sometimes angry-drunk!” Trials: “Preachin’ to the choir, there, sister.” Llevana: “Now, you must do something for me! Go tell Ulrich that I have some information that incriminates him. Tell him to come alone, or he won’t get it. Then lead him here, and I’ll do the rest.” Ruin: “That seems like a rather obvious trap, madam. Are you certain Ulrich would fall for it?” Trials: “He might. If guardsmen were smart, they wouldn’t need me to solve ninety-nine percent of their problems for them.” Ruin: “Are you actually thinking of going along with this plan?” Trials: “Why not? Ulrich’s a bastard, and with our key-witness dead, what’re the chance’s he’ll ever see justice otherwise?” Ruin: “This does not sound like you, my friend. I think we should consult Garrus first before we make any rash decisions. He may be able to help us through the proper channels.” Trials: I sighed. “Fine, but only as a favor to you, Ruin. We’ll talk to Garrus first, but if he asks me to pull two more witnesses out of my butt, I’m going to punch him in the nose!”

#the elder scrolls #oblivion #modded #let's play #roleplay #ask blog

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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Death becomes her (Sashea) ~ Hobnob

A/N: Hey so yeah I’m in Canada at the moment and its ok. Im by a lake so thats cool because in England if you went in a lake you’d die. The only thing is the graveyards over here are shit. Like, really bad. Its about 8 pieces of stone with names slapped on them. Thats it. The graveyards in England are gr8 they’re all fancy with big ol chapels and local dog-walkers its rite good. Theres one right outside our tesco extra so you can have a fag and a discount grab bag of monster munch

I suppose what I’m saying is i miss England but only mostly graveyards so heres a sashea grave digger au.

A crisp Sunday morning. A group of twelve people stood around a ditch, 6ft deep.

Shea stood beside it, a neatly piled heap of dirt to the left of her. She gripped the handle of her shovel and allowed a shiver to wash over her. Each drawn out breath would hang in the air as everyone clung to their thick coats, toes and fingertips frozen numb.

The grass beneath her was speckled with last nights downpour, buttercups sprouting sporadically in every crevice of the yard. Each grave was maintained regularly on weekends, but this didn’t stop lichens spreading across the surface of the stone, creating spools of rusted orange and brown.

This wasn’t uncommon for Shea, she’d dug graves for countless amounts of the deceased. What was unusual is the fact she stuck around for the vicars sermon. Shea was paying her respects to a lost friend, who was in the coffin not a metre away.

Sasha velour, born 1987 died at the age of 30.

The funeral was going pretty much as expected, nothing more nothing less. It was all extremely respectful; but Shea knew Sahsa would be rolling in her grave. She was so full of colour, energy and life. To have all her friends stood around a ditch holding back tears would of caused her such pain.

She would of wanted her body to be stuffed with the feathers of a dove then covered in paint or something outrageously artsy like that.

The church bells chimed the tune of ‘Westminster Quarters.’ The schoolchildren playing football in the street peeled off one by one as they were called in for lunch, their knees covered in bruises and scrapes.

The ringing ceased and there was only silence; even the occasional cars making their run to town seemed to stop completely.

The vicar brushed some lint off her robe and cleared her throat. She was clad head to toe in black apart from her clerical collar which shone white in contrast. Vicar Brown was well known amongst the townsfolk. She knew almost everything there was to know about the town and its residents. Any social event, any formal, and she’s be there with her signature tray of rice krispie cakes and a grin.

Vicar Brown was dedicated to her work no doubt. Her knowledge helped when it came to writing eulogies and giving the dead a respectful burial. There were no secrets in this town.

Part of Shea found that unsettling.

The service began and as usual, Farrah was the first to burst out into tears. Valentina gave her shoulder a small squeeze, but mostly in an attempt to shut her up.

The standard funeral ensued. Tears, boredom, last words, goodbyes. Funerals are painful, regardless of if you knew the deceased. Everyone bowed their head as Peppermint tossed a rose on the casket.

“We now commit her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust: in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life…”

Farrah began to cry again.

The casket was lowered and the sky was spitting. Everyone was eager to pop into a local café and stave off the cold with coffee, but for Shea the hardest part was just beginning. She still had to fill in the entirety of the grave.

Some mumbled some personal goodbyes to the lowered coffin, some put on a brave face and left with no words. Shea sighed and gripped at her shovel again as everything seemed to go back to normal almost instantaneously.

“You okay girl?”

Shea jolted at the voice. She felt a hand on her shoulder and spun around. Trinity Taylor was stood directly ahead of her with a sympathetic smile. They had been very close at one point.

“Jesus Christ Trinity you scared me for a moment” Shea strained, balling a fist into the fabric of her coat. She wasn’t dressed in the most funeral-ish attire but she had dirty work to do. “Im ok i just…me and sasha were speaking just the other day-”

“I know right?” Trinity cut in. “She seemed fine! I’d be more sad if i wasn’t so shocked.”

They both stood in silence for a moment. Shea turned her attention to the coffin as the rain began to bead up on the varnished wooden surface. She reached for the shovel again and frowned at Trinity.

“They wouldn’t tell me how it happened…all i got was one phone call telling me my best friend was dead and when the funeral was.” Shea said, beginning to fill in the ditch.

“Well thats what i was going to ask you, how it happened, you really don’t know?” Trinity asked in confusion everyone had been in the dark about Sasha’s death, even her closest friends.

Shea was hoping to get the phone call about Sasha. How it happened, where it happened, why it happened. Shea couldn’t help feeling information was being withheld from her for a reason. She felt sick.

“You don’t need to stick around girl, i got it covered” Shea said mustering the most sincere grin she could. “I’ll call you if they tell me anything else.”

“Not if, when. I’ll get to the bottom of this myself if i have to.”

Shea nodded and gave Trinity a tight hug. She admired her optimism in such a bleak scenario, but still, she just didn’t feel right.

“Stay strong Shea.”

And with that, Trinity was gone. Sasha’s closest friends had paid their respects and were probably eating a cheese and onion pastie in Greggs by now. She carried on shovelling the dirt over the woman she had spoken to just 3 days ago, playing every possible scenario in her head, over and over.

The heap of soil got smaller as the grave got fuller. The coffin was no longer visible, nor the rose placed on top of it. Sasha would’ve loved the symbolism of that. The situation was setting in and Shea’s breathing was becoming erratic.

She couldn’t finish burying the coffin, she just couldn’t. Shea dropped the shovel in the grass and stood over the half filled grave, her eyes brimming with tears. The rain wasn’t letting up as she crossed her arms in an attempt to keep any kind of warmth.

in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life

Shea needed to get inside. She couldn’t carry on.

Her attention turned to the church. Its stained glass glowed a fuzzy tinted red from the candlelight inside. Shea stepped in the archway and felt her breathing return to normal. She shut her eyes as she felt the wooden door behind her slammed closed. The steady beat of raindrops pounded against the windows.

“Done already?”

For the second time that day Shea jumped. She scrambled against the doorframe clasping at her heart. It was the vicar, clutching a small bible, possibly preparing upcoming services for the more religious townsfolk. Shea didn’t fall under that category. She gathered herself before speaking.

“Ah-just taking a small break vicar” Shea admitted, her eyes red tears that had been held back. “Im sorry it was cold i just wanted to-”

“Oh please, call me Tammie,” Vicar brown began, shaking her head. “You were good friends with Sasha, no?”

Shea tried to speak, but her whole mouth felt like it was shut together, all she could do was nod.

“It cant be easy having to bury one of your loved ones, its hard enough saying goodbye…” Tammie sighed, putting down her bible and casting a distant glare over to the other side of the church. “Have they told you how she passed?”

She paused for a moment and looked to the floor, trying to muster coherent words. “They-they just said there had been an accident.”

Tammie gave a sympathetic look and patted Shea on the shoulder. She was being patronised. Shea shrugged off the vicars touch and furrowed her brow. The entirety of Tammie’s eulogy seemed almost impersonal, and the last thing she needed was the pity of others.

Nobody knew Sasha velour like she did.

Vicar brown continued. “Thats a shame, isn’t it? Im sure they’ll find out more soon, hm? Chin up duck.” She said with a grin. Tammie picked up her pockett sized bible and flicked to a page almost systematically. “Whoever is patient has great understanding, but one who is quick-tempered displays folly.”

Shea let out an internal sigh. She knew it wasn’t her god given right to know everything at all times, but when it came to the death of her best friend a bit of information was the least she deserved.

“i was actually thinking of doing some sleuthing?” Shea admitted. She had found some confidence, as evident in her tone of voice. “maybe ask a few of her family membe-”

“Shea” Tammie cut her off. Her tone was less cheery than before, more intense. “That verse is one i hold very dearly to my heart. Its never steered me wrong before.” She said, tapping her head.

“I’ll…keep that in mind vicar.”

“Please, Tammie.”

“I’ll keep that in mind Tammie.” Shea corrected herself. She had to finish her work and get out of there as soon as possible. Tammie was a nut-case, and Shea was hardly in the mood to be recited christian teachings. “Don’t let me keep you, ill go back to my work.”

Tammie nodded, her face easing up a little, “See you around miss Coulée.” she spun on her heel and made her way back into the confides of the church. The flickering of candlelight casted a silhouette as she left Shea’s line of vision.

Shea couldn’t leave the church quick enough. The rain was hardly a concern at this point. She grabbed the handle of the shovel and inspected her work. Still around half way to go…shit.

“Need some help?”

Shea spun around! Crikey! The ghost of Sasha velour!

“Sup cunt im back.” She stood there in her ghostly glory.

“Sasha you dick pig give us a hug!” Shea said happily.

“Cant, im a ghost.” Sasha shrugged, covering herself in honey mustard and trail mix as an art statement about famine.

Shea was over the moon, this was like, well unexpected. She threw the shovel through the stained glass window and did the electric slide.

“Want to go get a pint?” Sahsa asked, checking her casio sports watch.

“Yah, but how did you die?” Shea said. She had to know the entire story had been building up to this.

“Global warming.” Sasha retorted, breaking momentarily to cough up a bunch of roses.

“Fuck me, i could’ve sworn it was Tammie brown.”

Sasha shooketh her egg head. “Have you even seen scooby doo? Its never the person you expect ya uncultured swine.”

“Have you come to haunt me?” Shea said spitting out her gum into sasha’s grave.

Sasha shrugged. “Good story writing is a construct, tear it apart.”

Shea nodded. That all wrapped up very nicely. Niiiice big ol bow slapped on top. Very conclusive.

“Lets go get you that pint then you cheeky slag.”

And with that they went down to the local tappie for some larger. Not long after they got married in wales at a Dixy Chicken after going on a 3 week bender.

Happy Halloween!

A/N: Bit shit, mediocre, liberal stuff Class is a construct, eat my muff Horrible shit and tolerable shit Cameron made england for the brits This maccies, this is fine Don’t need a nando’s, roadmen in lines For a revolution with naff intentions Brexit was called to fuck generations Yeah man, lend us a quid Student loans and atm im skint :( I’m in so much pain, NHS is whack Theres a lot of politicians, but they all know jack Chavs, roadmen, meddle in gangs Blocked off the alley, can’t get to my nan’s Bar’s, pubs, Underaged drinking England is shit, and LONG LIVE THE KING

#hobnob #sashea #death becomes her #au #sasha velour #shea coulee #tammy brown #trinity taylor #farrah moan #valentina #peppermint #rpdr fanfiction #submission #crack fic

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ink-consequential · 7 years

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Ink Consequential: Autumn 2017

Home

Jana A

When you ask me what it’s like where you’re from, my tongue stumbles against the words. I’m unable to understand the question.

Do you mean, what it’s like in my childhood bedroom where my walls are painted pink and yellow and my stuffed animals have been discarded to the top shelves? It was too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter, and I miss my bed dearly. No one in my family would remember to knock before opening the door to tell me that it’s time to eat or to check if I have enough blankets or to ask me about my day.

Do you mean, what it’s like in the house I was raised in where the stones are colored with age and my grandmother’s garden spreads like the gardens of Eden? Full of life, full of noise, full of love, full of family. Each apartment is a foreign country, but my grandmother and uncle and aunt and cousins were frequent travellers. There was always food to be shared; there were always loud arguments to be had, blaring in my mother tongue.

Do you mean, what it’s like in the city I loved and hated? The traffic is always awful and obnoxious men throw “compliments” like grenades, but it has the prettiest sunsets I have ever seen. The dusk makes everything golden: the old white stone buildings, the cracked pavements, even your own skin will glow with the day’s last remaining rays of sunshine. Downtown, people sell used books on the sidewalk. They sell brightly colored spices in glass jars, and the doorways of those little shops always smell like a feast. I miss the call to prayer, taking over everything for just a minute, five times a day. I miss the music they play in coffee shops, violins and heartbroken sighs that are somehow always full of hope. I think the children in my city all have the world’s brightest eyes and most mischievous smiles. Sometimes they will try to sell you roses or gum or bitter chocolate and you should always refuse. Sometimes old men or women in my city will invite you in for a cup of tea, and you should always accept. The deep wrinkles in their brown skin seem as though they might gather dust, as though they have been forgotten for hundreds of years. You could live to be a thousand and you would not have know half of the long lives they have lead. They have seen the world pause its rotation and turn the other way. If you start to smell smoke, you should pause and turn the other way.

Do you mean, what’s it like to have this passport? What’s it like to live in this country with its imaginary borders drawn on our behalf with an invader’s pen? What’s it like to see the barren deserts and urban crawling cities and little villages around the olive tree fields and know that it’s all home? Well, I always complain about the weather, but I wouldn’t prefer any other climate. We are millions and millions of people, some of us who have nothing, but we collectively chose to open our doors for people in need.

It’s a lot like a warm embrace. It’s a lot like you.

◆◇◆◇◆

Keep reading for poetry, short fiction, and more!

◆◇◆◇◆

Our Goodbye

Elise Alarpy

I cannot hold onto you, You are footprints on the sand. Fleeting and washed away, I hope you understand.

I loved you so fiercely, More than you could know. But I must give you up now, It's time to let you go.

You are nothing but a memory, A wound that cannot heal. Time took you too soon from me, But what we had was real.

I feel your loss so keenly, My heart is a phantom limb. The world has lost its colour, And now everything is dim.

But I know I must move on, There are battles to be won. I am a wilting flower, Slowly blooming in the sun.

Despite how much I miss you, It is time to say goodbye. Just know that you are in my thoughts, And no one loved you more than I.

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A Salesman’s Game

Esther C

The tornado sirens were blaring across the parking lot, but she wasn't afraid; it was Wednesday. The last sounds echoed against the storefront in time with the twinkling fairy lights in the window. The door dinged when an elderly woman walked in, supporting herself with a cane.

She greeted the customer with a plastered-on smile, adding just enough crinkle to her eyes to make it seem genuine to older eyes. They exchanged pleasantries, and she left the woman to shop.

The game had begun.

She offered assistance in any way that she could. Some things were easy to convince the woman to buy, especially when she whisked things away to the checkout counter before the lady had a chance to second-guess herself.

The game was about fear.

Fortunately for her paycheck, the elderly were often easy marks. Buy the candles, she'd suggest. You'd hate to be caught without light in a power outage like the one that happened last year. Some took more convincing, but most were happy to follow the suggestion.

The game was about doubt.

Winter's coming up here pretty soon; are you sure you have enough blankets? You know how heaters like to go out at the worst possible moment, and fireplaces can only do so much.

The game was about influence.

Now this, this was the fun part of the game: it was where all of the pieces landed on the same square and affected the other decisions. This was the element that changed with every mark. Once the fear and doubt are planted, then the player knows that they have influence. There's a sale going on if you get just half a pound more of sugar; it'll only cost a few more cents overall. Reaching out for the canister, obeying the command to wait to dish it out, but not moving to put it back.

The game was about patience.

A beat or two pass, and the player stands a little straighter. She mentally urges the lady to get the half pound more, gently shaking the scoop to level it out, the sound of the sugar filling the silence.

You'd better make it an extra pound while it's on sale, the woman says.

She smiles and acquiesces.

The game had been won.

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On Divorcing My Father

Katherine Sorensen

Do you see my father over there? He is the man his daughter mourns, the memory of a superhero, the man she loves in vain.

His pride is too loud, he can’t hear the sound of his daughter telling him that he broke her heart.

But his daughter glued her heart with the help of her mother, the wisdom to know that women don’t need men to make them strong.

My father ended the conversation, forcing a girl too young and polite to say things she didn’t mean, because a man’s ego is too fragile.

Do you see my father over there? He is the one talking to the girl who is smart enough to know she no longer needs him.

◆◇◆◇◆

Haunting

Danielle Jeanne

Despite what many believe, it is not in the middle of the night when the supernatural roam the streets. The supernatural, being what they are, are not constricted to time or circumstance like the mere mortals they live with seem to think that they are. Ghosts are especially terrible at doing what humans expect of them.

It was reading three fifty-five in the afternoon on the clocks around the city on a sunny Saturday when the street lights on 23rd Street began to flicker on and off. A baby begins to cry across the street as it feels a rush of energy flow through them, making the child’s father confused by the sudden outburst from the once happy child. The little nightlight in the corner of the room turns on.

The apartment below doesn’t appear to fare any better from the curious little spirit. Maxwell begins to bark at the lamp in the corner of the room, giving away his owner’s secret of harboring an unregistered pit bull in her home. She gets up from her bed to calm down her dog (god? Her dog god? The spirit isn’t sure) down enough for her to go back to sleep so she can worry about the consequences in minute detail later.

The couple on the first floor, however, is not amused. Simon huffs out a breath, muttering mild profanities while Irena finishes loading the laundry. Upon inspection of one of Simon’s shirts, Irena notices a few specks of crusted, rusty powder on the left sleeve. Heaving a sigh, she liberally applied the peroxide she kept near the washing machine just for cases such as these. She knew Simon was out with the boys this morning, but he had sworn to go meatless until the witch hunt had gone down.

“Hon, why is there blood on this shirt that I know I saw you wear this morning?” Irena asked him.

“Blood? What bloo—Oh! Blood! Well you see, today’s Henri’s birthday, and he wanted to celebrate the traditional way, and we, we—I mean he—he got a little out of control, you see. He might be on the news tonight, just so you know! He has gained so much weight, I doubt you will even recognize him, sweetheart. Going pig’s blood has really done a number on his metabolism,” Simon answered honestly. There was no point in lying to someone who had been able to hear his pulse for the past 50 years.

As Simon explained himself, Irena heard the cackling in the wires. Mimi was laughing at Simon through the lights in the building. As she chuckled to herself, the lights began to flair again causing the dog-god-dog to start barking and child to throw another short fit. Irena groaned, placing her head in her hands as she counted backwards from ten. If Mimi was here, then Simon and Henri had really messed up this morning. “I told you that the witch hunt had picked up! Why did you even try, huh? Why put yourself out there for the cops to get a hold of? You know what they did to Oskar last weekend! It was a total horror show!”

“Hey, what they did to Oskar was no one’s fault but Oskar’s! Oskar was a literal witch who was doing literal blood magic to get that girl in his human ethics class. I kinda think the irony was lost on him with that one, but hey it ain’t anyone’s problem now. What Henri and I did was fair game. She was homeless—”

“She? She?! Oh, no sir! That is almost asking to be drawn and quartered by the cops. You know the high value they put on their women here—”

“Their women’s bodies is more like it.”

“All the same to them! Mind, body, the whole package! Serious jail time for you if we’re caught, mister! And don’t forget that I know you’re still here, Mimi! I got some words for you! If you were there to see them do it, then you were there to tell them to back off! ”

“Wait, how come I would be the only one in the apartment to get jail time? You’re an accessory and an actual witch! You’ll be facing twenty to life with me, babe!”

“Oh, don’t you call me ‘babe,’ you son of a…” The conversation faded out as Mimi left the building the way she came, through the wires and back to the light post across the street. Mimi began to make her way to the station to laugh at Henri some more before Irena found a way to summon her back to the apartment. The clocks in the city read four fifteen in the afternoon as Mimi continued to live her death as she’d died in her life—hanging from a wire as she waited to see her friend’s reaction to the chaos that they themselves had caused.

◆◇◆◇◆

I Dated A Girl

Adrianna Nine

I dated a girl once who was a real peach. She just about smelled like one, too. And even on bad days or ones filled with rain Her smile lit up the room.

I dated a girl once who said she was haunted. Where she went, a ghost also came. She was so cute that if it weren’t creepy I’d honestly do just the same.

I dated a girl once who loved to paint. On her canvas she’d copy the sky. And when she asked if next she could paint me I blushed so hard I thought I might die.

I dated a girl once who traveled the world. She practically lived on a plane. I would’ve asked her to live with me But she needed a spur, not a chain.

I dated a girl once who dressed in all black Even when it was a hundred degrees. My cats left fur all over her dress And unfortunately oft made her sneeze.

I dated a girl once who was a barista. She tasted like sugar and cream. The first time I saw her was at her café And the whole day then felt like a dream.

I dated a girl once who loved to write. She said it made her feel free. I came to her once with a poem I’d written her And it turned out she’d made one for me.

◆◇◆◇◆

Editorial

Esther C

Those of you who follow Ink Consequential closely know that I finally gave up the ghost on my pseudonym with our last issue, which is equal parts terrifying and freeing. Sure, I’m still a person on the internet, but isn’t everybody reading this? I must admit that I do like clinging to my anonymity, to that name I’d chosen for myself. Amelia has twice the syllables that Esther does, but it rolls off the tongue a little better without any plosives and doesn’t have any silent letters lending itself to misspellings.

Amelia means industrious or hardworking, and that’s an image I like to portray. I mean, I’m definitely at work enough to give off that particular vibe, but it’s not just about work. I run a litmag for fun, for goodness’ sake, and it’s been an enjoyable adventure thus far. Speaking of adventure, it was Amelia Earhart who said, “Adventure is worthwhile in itself,” and it’s one of my favorite quotes that isn’t from the Bible (but is anybody shocked by that?). I must admit that I admire her life. Amelia was truly adventurous, pushing and stretching the limits of what it meant to be a pilot and a woman. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and she never gave up on anything. She disappeared living her dream, and, while it’s tragic, it’s also very cool. But then we come to Esther.

Queen Esther, a woman formerly admired for her beauty, became a woman admired for her courage. Haman, one of the king’s highest officials, set out to wipe the Jewish people from existence. (In my opinion, he often sounds like a petulant child whenever I read the story, but that’s up for different interpretations.) Anyway, Haman successfully convinces the king to allow the annihilation of the Jewish people through some underhanded means. Chosen queen by the king himself, Esther was in a unique position of power for a Jewish woman: it becomes her duty to beseech her husband to revoke the order. Mordecai (Esther’s cousin who raised her after her parents died and the discoverer of a plot to murder the king) has to convince her to speak before she’s willing to go to the king (something that can bear the penalty of death if done unbidden) and reminds her of something that I often hold close to my heart: “Maybe you were chosen queen for just such a time as this.” So, Esther goes to the king, and (skipping over some events) Haman ends up executed, Mordecai takes over his position and issues a new edict to counteract the old one, and the Jewish people are saved.

With those stories in mind, what do I want people to think of when they think of me? Do I want people to think of Amelia, a woman who dared to dream and was willing to give her life to fulfill it? Do I want people to think of Esther, a woman who dared to stand up for what was right and was willing to give her life to live it out accordingly? I think the answer is both and neither. I want to be a woman who dares to dream, who dares to stand up for what is right. I want to be a woman who lives life boldly, letting faith dictate her steps, relying on compassion to guide her words. I want to be ardent and considerate, someone known for her ideas and the follow-through as well as kindness.

Am I any of those things right now? I couldn’t tell you with certainty. I think I already am a dreamer in that I have hopes for the future. I stand up for what I believe is right by preaching peace and love to those around me, by speaking when I feel called to speak. I don’t know how boldly I live life right now, but I definitely see that the path of faith will take me to that place of boldness. I looked up the definition of ardent to make sure I had the word I was thinking of, and it seems to fit me already—having intense feeling, passionate, devoted, eager—though I have plenty of room to grow into it further. I feel like my kindness can only be judged by the people around me, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t strive for it in my life (usually; I am only human, after all).

I started writing this by asking myself the question, What’s in a name? Just as Amelia means hardworking, Esther means star. Sometimes, I overthink it and feel as though it gives me a deeper connection to the cosmos, to the universe that I believe God created. Sometimes, I think it means that I should be willing to shine in the darkest of times even if my light is only minuscule. Sometimes, I hope it means I’m destined for notoriety and fame—but that’s a little far-fetched even for me. Sometimes, it means that I may never learn everything about the world around me, but that feeling of excitement and wonder is definitely still there. Maybe it means all of these things; maybe it means none of them. But maybe, just maybe, it means that I should be myself, whoever that woman is.

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#ink consequential #autumn 2017 #writing #poetry #microfiction #editorial #poem #litmag #literary magazine

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emospritelet · 7 years

Text

Pixie Dust - chapter 16

Two fluffy chapters in a row. I’ll probably have to kill someone. Still, angst and smut are hovering on the horizon, so there’s that :)

Anyway, the festive season is in full swing, and Neal and Ruby attempt to match-make

Also on AO3

Christmas Day began early, with warm cinnamon pastries and coffee, and the exchange of presents: books and music, chocolates and knitwear, whisky and wine. Belle started on the turkey as Neal and Gold cleared away crumpled patterned paper and ribbons, their gifts sitting in piles waiting to be taken to their rooms. Bringing the meal together was a feat of organisation and impeccable timing, but it was one she enjoyed, and she and Gold prepared roast potatoes, wedges of roasted squash and buttered collard greens. There were pigs in blankets, crisp and chewy with bacon fat, spiced red cabbage cooked with red wine and apples, and a rich chestnut stuffing with fresh sage and thyme. They sat down to eat at just after two, and even Neal was quiet as they ate their fill of the turkey and trimmings. Belle drank a glass of champagne and another of red wine, the flavours of roasted meat making her mouth water, the alcohol flushing her cheeks.

Eventually they had eaten enough, and Belle caught Gold’s eye, grinning happily as she cleared her plate of the last of the turkey, and sat back with a sigh.

“That,” declared Neal, “was awesome! Ten out of ten, you guys.”

“My pleasure,” said Belle, holding out her glass for Gold to fill. “Although I don’t think I can move now.”

“Neal and I can wash up,” said Gold, ignoring Neal’s grumble.

“Can I have cake first?” he asked, and Gold sighed.

“Do you have hollow legs or something?”

“Yep.” Neal winked at him. “Just waiting to be filled with chocolate buttercream. Come on, you know you want a piece!”

Gold winked at him, and Belle rolled her eyes.

“I’ll get it,” she sighed.

She cut three slices of the chocolate Yule log, putting them on plates with a scoop of thick brandy cream. They all dug in, Gold and Neal making noises of enjoyment, which were cut off by the ringing of Neal’s phone. He groaned, licking chocolate from his thumb and swiping the screen to answer.

“Hey Mum.” Neal pushed up from the table. “Yeah, Merry Christmas. I tried to call earlier.”

He began pacing back and forth, before going out into the hall, but Gold and Belle could still hear one side of the conversation.

“Nah, it’s cool. Dad and Belle did a kickass turkey, and now we’re having cake.” There was a pause. “Belle. Dad’s roommate. No, Belle.” Another pause. “Yes, obviously she’s a woman.”

Belle and Gold glanced at one another, amused.

“I don’t know, early twenties? Why?” Silence. “Look, Mum, that’s not…” There was a sigh. “No. Look, did you like your present? Uh-huh?” A pause. “Great. Yeah, thanks, I got the cash.” Another long-suffering sigh. “Fine, tell him I said hi. Yeah, okay. Love you. Merry Christmas!”

Gold smirked a little, turning back to his cake, and Neal came back in the room, muttering under his breath.

“Is your mother well?” asked Gold, and Neal wrinkled his nose.

“Kinda drunk, I think,” he said. “But yeah.” He sat down at the table, picking up his spoon. “Very interested to know what you’re doing ‘shacked up with a woman half your age like some old pervert’. Her words, not mine.”

Belle giggled, ducking her head as she blushed, and Gold rolled his eyes.

“Charming as ever, I see,” he said dryly, and Neal shrugged.

“Yeah, well, you know how she is,” he said, cutting a piece of cake. “She hates to think you might actually be enjoying yourself.”

Gold smirked. “How unfortunate,” he said, and licked cream from his spoon.

Belle relaxed in the lounge after dinner, Gold and Neal cleaning up the kitchen while she sat back and drank a gin and tonic, her feet up on cushions. They talked until late, the fire crackling in the background, music playing, and despite the lack of glamorous guests, expensive outfits and perfectly presented food, it was the best Christmas she had had in years. It was like feeling part of a family again.

Neal flopped down on the couch next to her as the clock ticked towards eleven, and Gold walked back into the lounge from the kitchen, carrying fresh drinks. Brandy swirled in the glasses, and Belle stood up to take hers. Neal gestured at the ceiling light with a can of beer.

“I hung mistletoe from that thing days ago, and you guys aren’t following tradition,” he complained.

“You know, you can kiss a parent on the cheek without the need for a poisonous parasite hanging around,” said Gold dryly.

“Tell that to Killian,” grumbled Neal, and Belle giggled.

“Besides,” he added. “I wasn’t about to kiss you, Pops, I was saying Belle should. You know, since you’re too chicken to kiss her.”

Gold shot him a warning look, but Belle rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” she said, feeling wonderfully tipsy and uninhibited. “I guess if it’s tradition…”

She turned to Gold, rising up on her toes, and kissed his cheek, making him blink rapidly.

“Lame…” said Neal, and took a swig of his beer. “Come on, you can do better than that!”

“You’re grounded,” said Gold evenly.

“No, I’m not!” Neal huffed air out through his lips, harrumphing like a horse, and Gold looked as though he was trying not to smile.

“Fine, then you’re cut off. How many of my beers have you drunk, anyway?”

“Come on!” complained Neal spreading his hands. “Don’t be a jerk, it’s Christmas!”

Gold glanced at Belle, and she grinned up at him, enjoying the teasing. He looked nervous, and the smile fell from her face a little. Oh. Right. Of course he doesn’t want to kiss you, you idiot. It was a job, remember? It meant nothing.

“You won’t burst into flames, Dad,” said Neal dryly and it was Gold’s turn to roll his eyes. He reached up a little hesitantly, and cupped Belle’s cheek with a warm hand. She could smell soap on his hands, and a faint hint of his own scent. He shifted his feet, bending to press a kiss to her forehead, and she felt a shiver go through her at the feel of his lips on her skin.

“Guess I’m never getting a kid brother,” muttered Neal.

“Neal!”

“Kidding! Lighten up!” He pushed up off the couch, winking at them. “Anyone for snacks?”

He wandered through to the kitchen, and Gold and Belle glanced on one another, before breaking into nervous smiles. He gestured to the couch, and she sat down, cupping her brandy glass in her hands.

“Sorry about that,” he said, sitting beside her.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind.” She chuckled, sipping her brandy, and glanced across at him. “Did you enjoy today? I had a great time!”

“I probably put on about ten pounds, but yes.”

She giggled again, and clinked her glass against his.

“So that’s Christmas done,” she said regretfully. “I guess we have to look forward to New Year.”

Gold had to work again the next night, and although Neal expressed surprise at some kid being eager enough to want a tutoring session during the holidays, he didn’t seem to think anything further about it. Belle distracted herself from worrying while Gold was gone by planning for Ruby’s visit. Ruby had said that she and Archie were driving up from Boston, and would be staying with Granny until after the New Year. She reported nothing out of the ordinary; Gaston had been to visit again, to try to get her to tell him where Belle was, but she had sent him away with a tirade of insults, and had not seen him since.

Gold offered to take them to Granny’s for dinner while they waited for Ruby to arrive that night, and so they crowded around a table while Granny served up plates of steak and ribs and chicken. Belle drank a beer with her meal, keeping an eye out for her friend, and was rewarded with a flash of red at the windows as Ruby and Archie passed by. She pushed back her chair, leaping up, and ran to hug Ruby as she entered the diner.

“Oh my God!” Ruby squeezed her. “You look great! Merry Christmas, or Happy New Year, or whatever the hell it is right now!”

Belle laughed, hugging her again.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you! I tried calling, but I couldn’t get an answer.”

Ruby drew back pulling a face.

“Some asshole went in my bag when we were eating lunch,” she said regretfully. “Stole my phone and my money. I didn’t notice until we were almost into Maine. Bastards.”

“We’ll get you a new phone tomorrow,” Archie assured her, leaning in to hug Belle, his glasses a little askew as he pulled back.

Pongo, Archie’s Dalmatian, was snuffling at her fingers, and she patted his head, gesturing to where Gold and Neal were sitting.

“Have you eaten? We were just finishing up.”

“We ate on the way,” said Archie.

“Ready for a drink, though,” added Ruby, and Archie nodded with a smile as Granny came bustling over and pulled Ruby into a firm hug.

Gold and Archie got along very well, although Belle couldn’t imagine anyone not liking Archie, and Ruby and Neal settled for gently teasing one another, so Belle figured that her friends had been accepted into the family. The next day Neal decided to spend some time with his friends, and so the others went for a walk along the snow-covered trails where Belle usually ran, Pongo quartering back and forth with his nose to the ground. Ruby linked her arm through Belle’s as they walked, letting out a contented sigh as birds chirped and cawed in the trees above. Gold was walking with his hands in his pockets up ahead of them, Archie by his side. It sounded as though they were discussing psychology.

“They seem to be getting along,” remarked Ruby.

“I’m glad,” said Belle. “It’s good to have you guys here for a few days.”

“Yeah, I’d forgotten how relaxing this place can be,” said Ruby looking around. “Pongo’s in his element with all these woods. We should visit more often.”

“No arguments from me,” said Belle, grinning at her, and they walked along a little further.

“So,” said Ruby glancing across at her. “When are you gonna tell him?”

“Tell him what?” asked Belle, and Ruby rolled her eyes.

“You know, that you’re completely in love with him and want to have like four dozen of his babies.” She stuck out her tongue as Belle looked outraged. “Come on, don’t look like that! I’m right and you know it!”

Belle opened her mouth to protest, but gave it up, sagging slightly.

“It’s complicated,” she said finally, and Ruby sighed.

“Look, that Gaston thing’s a bitch, I get that,” she said. “But there’s no reason you can’t start thinking about the future. At least talk to him about it. If I catch the pair of you gazing longingly at each other once more I may just throw up. Or lock you in the walk-in freezer at Granny’s.”

“Great,” said Belle dryly. “You’d attempt to give your best friend hypothermia to prove a point?”

“You guys would totally share body heat, bang each other stupid, blow the refrigeration system and defrost all the lasagne,” said Ruby, grinning, and squawked as Belle shoved her.

“It’s not like that, anyway,” said Belle. “We do not ‘gaze longingly at each other’.”

“Not when the other one’s looking, no.”

“I don’t even know if he likes me that way,” she added. “Besides, he has crap going on in his life too. Things he needs to close other people off from.”

“Like what?” asked Ruby curiously, and Belle shook her head.

“Just - just trust me when I say it’s complicated,” she said. “There are - barriers - to us being together, on both sides. I’m not sure I could get past them, and I don’t know if he even wants me to.”

Ruby sighed.

“At least tell me you’ll think about it when you finally get rid of the two hundred pound talking turd you married,” she said, and Belle giggled.

“Deal.”

The holidays passed all too quickly, and New Year’s Eve was upon them almost before Belle could take a breath. She dressed carefully for the party at Granny’s in a dark red dress with matching lipstick, her hair twisted up on her head and high-heeled shoes that looked fantastic but made walking the frozen streets something of an adventure. The diner, when they reached it, was filled with townsfolk chatting and laughing, and Belle hurried to hug Ruby and Archie as they pushed through the crowd. Merida and Mulan had already started dancing, not letting a lack of music put them off, and Merida was singing an upbeat song in a heavy Scottish accent as they spun around. Trestle tables were set up outside, loaded with plates of chicken wings and sandwiches and bowls of potato salad, chips and dip. The air was freezing, but Granny had set up heaters around the tables and dance area, and the milling townsfolk provided further shelter from the cold.

It was the busiest Belle had seen the diner since getting to Storybrooke, and she was finding it a little much until Ruby pulled her away from the crowds around the buffet tables and towards the open area where the dancing would soon start. A trio of short men were setting up their instruments, two others bringing amplifiers over, and Ruby grinned and bounced on her toes, clinking her glass against Belle’s.

“So,” she said. “New Year, new start, right? You feeling positive?”

Belle pursed her lips. “Well, I have to meet with Gaston and the lawyers in a week,” she said. “So maybe it’s a sign. Maybe this will be the year I actually move forward.”

“You think Gaston’s going to cause a stink?” asked Ruby, and Belle sighed.

“I know it,” she said gloomily. “Honestly, I’m dreading having to see him, but if it gets things over more quickly, it’ll be worth it. Maybe if I settle for less he’ll be willing to let me go without a fight, I really don’t want to have to drag the thing through the courts.”

“You shouldn’t let him get away with not giving you what you’re owed,” said Ruby, and Belle shrugged.

“I know, I just want it over with, This whole thing has been a nightmare.”

“Is he still seeing that woman?” asked Ruby.

“No idea,” said Belle, pulling a face. “Probably. God, she can have him!”

“That’s the spirit!”

There was the strum of a guitar, and she and Ruby jumped and looked around before giggling. Belle kissed her cheek.

“I refuse to be depressed about my crappy soon-to-be-ex tonight,” she announced. “We need less moping and more drinking, what do you say?”

“Here comes my man, right on cue.” Ruby nodded to Archie, who had appeared with two glasses of wine in his hands. She drained her glass, and Belle nudged her.

“Okay, so when are you two tying the knot?”

“When he asks me,” said Ruby coyly. “If I don’t get tired of waiting and ask him first, of course.”

She grinned, reaching for one of the wine glasses as Archie approached, and leaning to kiss his cheek.

“Belle, I thought you might like a drink,” he said, handing her the other glass.

“You thought correctly.” She kissed his other cheek, so that he sported matching lipstick prints. “Now dance with your girlfriend. I’m gonna mingle.”

Granny’s New Year’s Eve party was very different to what Belle was used to. It was hectic and confused and filled with raucous laughter and occasionally terrible dancing. Most people attended in their best clothes, tugging their collars and swirling their skirts and showing off new shoes that they would no doubt be cursing later in the evening. And some attended in their everyday things: frayed jeans and plaid shirts and plain dresses, and had just as good a time as those that had dressed up. Everyone drank a little too much and danced and sang, and she found herself being spun around by people she had never even spoken to. The music was lively, guitar and fiddle, bass and drums, the band playing folk and bluegrass, and Belle danced until she was breathless. It was a wonderful, noisy, glorious mess, and she loved it.

After a couple of hours of dancing and chatting and drinking, the band struck up a slower tune, and she found herself at the edge of the temporary dance area, a glass of punch in her hand. She suspected that drinking the punch was the best way to ensure a hangover the next day, but Merida had insisted, and it actually tasted pretty good. She watched, smiling, as Mulan and Merida danced an exaggerated waltz, both bright-eyed and flushed with alcohol.

“Care to dance?”

Gold’s voice made her smile, and she turned to face him.

“Having a good time?” she asked, and he gave her a tiny grin.

“Surprisingly, yes,” he admitted. “I had a somewhat heated discussion with Archie about twentieth century American literature. No blood was spilled, but it was a close-run thing.”

Belle laughed out loud at the image of he and Archie fighting. Gold took a swig of his drink, and set the glass down on a nearby table, holding out a hand to her.

“You say he used to work in my field?” he asked, and she nodded, setting her glass next to his and taking his offered hand.

“So Ruby says. For your agency, no less. That’s how I got the number.”

“It’s strange,” he mused. “I find myself wanting to talk to him about it, even though I barely know him.”

“Yeah, Archie has that effect on people,” she said knowingly, as he pulled her a little closer. “He and Ruby met in a bar when she’d caught her ex cheating on her. She ended up telling him her entire life history over Long Island Iced Teas and nachos.”

He chuckled at that, his hand sliding around her waist as hers slid up to his shoulder.

“Well, they seem very happy.”

“Yeah.” Belle shot the couple a fond look. “Opposites attract, right?”

“Sometimes.” He began to move, turning with her in a series of small steps. “Not always for the best, though.”

“Well, that’s true,” sighed Belle, thinking of Gaston. “I’m glad it worked out for them, though. True love won out.”

“So it would appear.”

There was silence for a moment, and they settled into the slow rhythm of the dance. She could feel the heat of him through his shirt, and it was making her a little breathless.

“Ruby must be an understanding woman,” he said then. “His - well, his other profession being what it was.”

“He gave it up when they got together,” said Belle. “She’s cool with it, though. Ruby never judges people on their pasts. Unless they hurt a friend of hers, in which case they don’t get a second chance. Ever.”

“Hmm.” He looked amused. “A good friend to have on your side then?”

“The best,” she said lightly. “I think Archie knew from the first she was a precious thing and he couldn’t bear to let her go. The poor guy was doomed!”

She grinned up at him, but his face was serious.

“I can understand that,” he said quietly. “I don’t suppose she would have - well I doubt she’d have been happy with him carrying on, would she?”

“We haven’t talked about it,” said Belle, wrinkling her nose. “Honestly, I think it was good timing more than anything. He’d just finished studying when they met, and he was working to pay his tuition, so it all kind of fell into place.”

“Well, they’re very lucky,” he said.

They danced in silence for a while, and she enjoyed being able to touch him, with no awkwardness, no shying away as if the other were contaminated. She wondered if things would ever be truly comfortable between them, and the thought made her want to sigh. The lights were gleaming on his hair, and catching his fresh stubble, and she remembered how it felt to kiss him, how he tasted on her tongue. She wished things were simpler. He was gazing at her, his eyes dark and heavy with something approaching sorrow, and she bit her lip.

“You look so sad,” she said, her voice soft. “I wish I knew what to say.”

Gold gave her a twisted little smile, his eyes gleaming, and his hand tightened on her waist as he turned her.

“I’m not really sad,” he said. “Just - well, a little melancholy, I suppose. Must be the music.”

“Melancholy is a kind of sad,” she pointed out, and he grinned.

“Yes, but it’s a kind of sad for pretentious people with English degrees.”

She giggled at that, and his eyes sparkled.

“See?” he said gently. “No more melancholy. Don’t be concerned for me.”

“You’re not pretentious,” she said, giving him a flat look, and he smiled.

“Oh, I’m a little pretentious,” he said. “Ask any of my students.”

“Hmm.” She was amused. “I think I’d like to be one of your students. I wouldn’t misbehave. You wouldn’t have to chastise me, I swear.”

“Oh my.” His grin turned wicked. “There’s an image I probably shouldn’t have in my head.”

Belle giggled more, blushing.

“Not like that!” she scolded. “I just meant - you’re kind, and you’re patient, and you’re really really calm, no matter what happens.”

“None of my students would recognise this charitable picture you’re painting of me,” he remarked.

“Well, perhaps you’re just that way with me, then,” she suggested.

“Perhaps I am.”

He stepped back on one foot, spinning her around and making her giggle again and cling to him. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and she breathed him in, fingers clutching at the fine cotton of his shirt.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“A little drunk,” she admitted.

“Do I have to carry you home?”

“If you do, it’ll be because of these bloody shoes, not the booze,” she grumbled, and he laughed.

“Well, I’ll get you some water when we get back,” he said. “No hangovers on my watch. I won’t have your New Year ruined.”

She looked up and shook her head, sighing as they swayed back and forth.

“You worry about me way too much, you know.”

“I like to see you smile,” he said. “I think you haven’t spent enough time smiling in this life, Belle. You deserve to be happy.”

“I will be,” she said decidedly, and flicked her eyes up to him. “I am, I mean. I’m happy right now.”

“Good. Then the New Year bodes well, doesn’t it?”

There was a flurry of activity near the makeshift stage, and some feedback through the microphone as Granny grabbed it, wine sloshing in the glass she held.

“Okay, folks!” she shouted. “We’re getting close to midnight! Grab your drinks and let’s kiss goodbye to one year and hello to the next!”

The dancing couples stopped still, and there was a scattered ripple of voices counting down from twenty, volume rising as they passed the ten-second mark. Belle joined in, catching Ruby’s eye where she hung on Archie’s arm, glass raised high in the air. She saw Mulan and Merida, clinging to one another, Merida with flushed cheeks and a wide smile, her hair like rippling fire. Neal was standing on a table with both arms in the air and his head thrown back, yelling the numbers at the sky, and her eyes flicked back to Gold, who was watching her with a grin on his face and a gleam in his eyes. Cries rang out, the townsfolk wishing one another a happy New Year, and impulsively she kissed his cheek, hugging him tight against her. She felt him kiss her back, lips pressing against the side of her face, his hug squeezing the breath from her.

“Happy New Year,” she said quietly, her mouth by his ear, and she felt him smile.

“Yes,” he said. “I think it will be.”

#rumbelle #escort!Gold verse #fic: pixie dust #rumbelle fic

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benjamingarden · 6 years

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Making The Switch To A Whole Food Plant-Based Lifestyle

This post contains affiliate links. Affiliate links come at no extra cost to you. These links allow me to share the products I authentically recommend (and use) and support Cobble Hill Farm by receiving a small commission. When I was 13 years old I declared myself a vegetarian over dinner one evening. This news did not go over very well. At the time we lived on a hobby farm in Washington State where we raised pigs and cows for meat and chickens for eggs. I had come home the day before to see something that changed my world. The bus dropped me off at the end of our quarter mile long driveway. As I walked down the driveway, alone, I could see a strange vehicle backed up to the barn. I panicked. I had no idea who it was, where I should go, or what I should do. We lived in farm country which meant acres and acres of crops between houses. As I got closer I started to develop a game plan to sneak around my house so that I could (hopefully) enter without the person/people noticing I was home. Just as I was coming around the corner on the driveway, a man walked to the back of the vehicle and swung the back right door out. And there it was. An animal carcass. And I knew it was one of my animals. MY animals – the ones I was responsible for taking care of every single morning before school and every single afternoon after school. MY animals – the ones my parents let me name. MY animals – my friends, because I was an only child, that I would spend afternoons with, telling them my hopes and dreams that I couldn’t share with anyone else. I was absolutely devastated. My plan to discreetly enter my home was now gone by the wayside and I ran, full speed, to my house, grabbed my house key with my shaking hand, and flung open the door to call my mother at work. This time, rather than the usual “I’m home” phone call, I was crying and screaming and downright angry. Angry that I’d lost one or more animals in this manner, angry that the animals were my responsibility yet no one bothered to let me know the grand plan, and angry that I had no idea which animals were now gone, only to end up in that bland white freezer paper in the stand-alone freezer. So, that evening at dinner, still angry from the events of the day, I declared myself officially a vegetarian. My mom and step-father chuckled, not understanding why I was so upset. Not surprisingly, this upset me even more. Their callous response to my devastation was certainly not making me feel any better about the situation. My mother smiled and challenged me with “you can’t be vegetarian – you’ll eat meat, you like chicken”. I responded by telling her she was wrong. And then, in my 13 year old wisdom, I came up with what I thought was a legitimate statement that would put them in their place. I stated “if Michael Jackson can be a vegetarian then so can I”. And with that, I was a vegetarian for the next 13 years. The problem with having been a vegetarian was that I wasn’t a healthy vegetarian. This means that, although I didn’t eat meat, I still ate junk – French fries, candy, chips, etc. Although I’ve always loved vegetables, I didn’t eat a majority of my meals plant-based and I certainly did not eat a healthy amount of legumes and/or whole grains. And this is the problem with the terms “vegan” or “vegetarian”. That although it may exclude animal products, it doesn’t concentrate a lifestyle based on plants and whole foods, leaving you with an unhealthy, albeit meat-free, lifestyle.

Switching To Plant-Based Whole Foods Lifestyle So why, after eating meat for 20 years have I now switched to a plant-based whole food lifestyle? For health reasons. It all started with Netflix….. I’ve been told, since the age of 22, when I was first diagnosed with allergies that would result in severe sinusitis, that if I would just cut out all dairy products I would notice a significant difference in how I felt. I thought it was absurd. First, I’m not allergic to dairy. Second, who can give up cheese? Third, what would I put in my coffee if it wasn’t going to be milk or half and half? And so I’ve suffered with constant congestion and 2-4 severe sinus infections annually for the past 24 years. I’m severely allergic to dust, cats, and some molds and mildews and test positive for a minor allergy to dogs. As you know, I have a cat, 2 dogs, and many chickens whose litter is full of dust, molds and mildews……I certainly don’t help myself out at all. Two years ago I’d about had it with sinus infections. I just couldn’t catch a break. Each time I would go on antibiotics to get rid of one, someone in my office would come down with a cold, and I’d immediately get another sinus infection. The dairy thing kept playing in my head. Last year I ended up with 3 severe sinus infections in a row. When I went to urgent care with the first one, I was told I had fairly high blood pressure. I'd been told it was on the high end of normal at my last annual appointment, which was new since I’ve never ever had high blood pressure before. On the second trip to urgent care, I still had high blood pressure which told me it wasn’t a fluke. The third time, after hearing the news again, and being so sick I couldn’t even stand myself, I wanted to figure out what I could do to take control over my own health. I’m sure the blood pressure is very much related to the amount of stress I endure from juggling everything, regardless, since I wanted to continue working outside the home as well as our own business and needed to figure out how I was going to holistically treat this. Sitting at home, head pounding, coughing constantly with a nose running like a faucet, I had nothing to do and nothing to watch. So I watched Netflix. I didn’t feel like watching a series or a movie so I watched documentaries. I watched them on both Paleo lifestyles as well as plant-based whole food lifestyles. And that’s when I decided that I would give up dairy (I never have had it again since that day) as well as meat. Although I do eat chicken or fish from time-to-time, for the most part, I now only eat plants and whole foods. Although I didn't salt my food often, I also stopped adding salt (although I still add a small amount when cooking). And I feel great!! My blood pressure dropped significantly and I’m no longer in danger of needing medication to decrease it. I have more energy, feel more "awake"/clear-headed and no longer have the daily congestion. All because of a dietary change. I opted for plant-based whole foods as opposed to paleo because I wasn’t convinced paleo was healthy. It’s a personal choice that I believe was the right one for me. Switching my lifestyle wasn’t nearly as difficult as I thought it would be once I had a few ideas for meals. My big hang-ups were:

what would I put in my coffee, and

would I have to make 2 meals since J wouldn’t be switching?

I have yet to be satisfied with any of the milk alternatives, as it relates to coffee, so I drink it mostly black with a splash of Betterhalf (unsweetened). And yes, I am making 2 different meals since J told me he has no interest in changing to the same lifestyle. Some of my main dishes I can serve him as a side dish, but others he has no interest in so I make 2 completely different meals. Eating out was a tad difficult since almost every single vegetarian option is loaded with cheese. I tried eating a bit of cheese once and I could feel it in my sinuses immediately. So I usually eat chicken or seafood when we go out if I can't find a better alternative.

coffee is a must!

What I Eat I’m a huge believer in Dr. Michael Greger’s advice in his book “How Not To Die”. The book is quite voluminous as he speaks to many health conditions including what specific foods can harm as well as what can help. His cookbook, also called “How Not To Die”, gives a much smaller synopsis of his actual book in addition to over 100 recipes. One of the nice features of Dr. Greger’s books is that he has his list of recommended “daily dozen” which helps me with what I should be eating. Dr. Greger's daily dozen: • 3 servings of beans (I typically only do 1 or 2 at lunch and/or dinner) • 1 serving of berries (this I eat with breakfast) • 3 servings of other fruits (I eat fruit after every meal) • 1 serving of cruciferous vegetable (I incorporate cabbage, kale, broccoli or cauliflower in lunch or dinner) • 2 servings of greens (I eat at lunch and dinner – breakfast if I have a vegetable & bean breakfast burrito) • 2 servings of other vegetables (I eat at lunch and dinner) • 1 serving of flaxseeds (I eat with my breakfast) • 1 serving of nuts (I eat in my oatmeal for breakfast) • 1 serving of spices (turmeric every day) (I drink 1 cup of turmeric tea everyday) • 3 servings of whole grains (I eat oatmeal almost every morning for breakfast, have grains with a salad or soup for lunch, and a grain with dinner) • 5 servings of beverages (I drink hibiscus tea twice a day, turmeric tea once a day, usually a juice of greens and ginger once a day, and water) I realize this list looks overwhelming but remember “servings” are ¼ - ½ cup (depending on the item), so it really isn’t hard once you start to vet it all out. Dr. Greger recommends going oil and sugar free as well. So I’ve taken his outline and added my “occasional” items – chicken and seafood, olive or coconut oil, and (rarely) sugar (I try to use dates/date suger, coconut sugar, maple syrup or honey). My typical day: Breakfast – almost always oatmeal with berries, soaked raw nuts and flaxseed, and coffee (coffee is always) Snack – fruit + hibiscus tea Lunch – soup or salad incorporating beans, greens, other veggies and whole grains. If I don’t eat greens with lunch, I usually drink a “greens” juice (no fruit juice because it spikes your blood sugar without the fiber – just greens, ginger, and a squirt of lemon) Snack – fruit + turmeric tea Dinner – comprised of beans or (wild caught) seafood or (free-range organic) chicken occasionally plus vegetables & whole grains Snack – fruit + hibiscus tea

The reality is - I feel better than I could have ever believed. I didn't have any aches, pains, etc. but I believe that any internal inflammation I had is gone or at least significantly decreased leaving me feeling good. Also, animal products give you a fullness beyond satisfactory fullness, in my opinion, and I no longer have that. I would guess that these two factors are a big reason for my increased alertness and overall general health. What I Don't Eat:

I don't eat any grilled meat any longer. There's just too much research pointing to the high levels of carcinogens carried in grilled meat.

I don't eat, in general, any "replacement" meat. I am not a fan of non-sausage sausage, or non-chicken chicken (tofu or tempeh). If I want tofu or tempeh I add it to the dish, but I don't make or purchase any of the mocked up replacements.

I try to stay away from anything not on the Real Food outline.

I try to avoid carrageenan. And it's difficult......it seems to find it's way into nut milks and non-dairy creamers. Although I suspect in a small (and infrequent) consumption it's ok, it worries me to consume it regularly. You can read more about it on Wellness Mama.

I've heard from many of you that after 8 months or so of only plants, legumes & whole grains you no longer felt your best. I believe eating a little bit of meat/seafood protein as well as a little of the oils (based on the real food factors) from time-to-time is what has helped me. I did not eat any meat at all for the first 8 months and would feel a bit "off". I'm not sure how to describe it. Since I began eating meat/seafood at least twice a month (only a small portion each time) as well as cooking a little bit with oils again, I have gone back to feeling great. I also found that eating meat twice in a week was a bit too much. You've got to listen to your body. It's all trial and error I guess....

How about you? Have you made any significant changes to your lifestyle in the past year? I'd love to hear what you've found works and doesn't work.

Making The Switch To A Whole Food Plant-Based Lifestyle was originally posted by My Favorite Chicken Blogs(benjamingardening)

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rueur · 7 years

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Morning Pages #22 (30.01.2017)

Monday 30th Jan - 12:33 p.m.

Okay, so it’s not the morning, I know. I just missed the morning. And I also haven’t written for the past two days, I KNOW. Saturday was just too busy to do anything, honestly, it was one of the most busiest days I have ever had in my life. And Sunday was just a sleepy mess. I spent most of the morning being totally disoriented back in Mill Park, and the rest of the day trying to muscle up the energy to get to Ikaros’ house beforehand so I could see the apple baby (a baby apple tree) that he’s been taking care of so very lovingly (he calls himself an ‘apply daddy’ - like ‘apple-y’ not like ‘apply yourself’), and then take the train into the city together later that night for Gong De Lin!

Because there’s a lot to say about Friday, Saturday and Sunday, I will just go through it point by point and make sure I’ve mentioned everything before I go into more detail. First of all, our shows went very well. They were very well received, and we had a pretty decent crowd for all three shows. We also had a private fourth show (or ‘first show’) on Friday afternoon, at around 3. We had a full dress and tech run that some council workers decided to sit in on because they wouldn’t be able to make it to the actual shows. There were about three or four women, and one man in that audience, which was large enough for me to deem that Friday run a private show, rather than a rehearsal. I had nobody in the audience Friday night, but my entire family, and Malithi and Malith, came to see the show on Saturday afternoon, and Ikaros came to see it on Saturday night. Saturday afternoon was by far our best run, because Paul and Mahony gave us a fantastic warning regarding ‘second show syndrome’, but Saturday night was our worst run for that same reason: everybody lost sight of the fact that the Saturday night run was also susceptible to second show syndrome because, although it was our final show and our closing night, it was also our second show of that day. And everyone was insanely tired by 7 o’clock on that Saturday night. People tripped over their lines, forgot the order of scenes, lost their places and had essentially the lowest stage energy I’d seen them have. I almost coughed during my monologue, but I didn’t. There was, however, a very audible frog in my throat.

I biked home on Saturday night after saying goodbye to Ikaros at the station. He caught the 901 to Greensborough and then the train home. Jasper was also on the 901, because he lives out in South Morang, I think somewhere off of Gorge Road. He broke two guitar strings on Saturday, because he rocked so hard onstage. And Will broke the bin that he throws. He broke it during our FINAL show, it was fantastic. But yes, I biked home. The entire family (sans seeya thatha) was at Anthony’s house for some Eid dinner, so I was home alone. It was my first time back in my house that late at night and it would be my first time sleeping back in my own bed. I was exhausted though, so I didn’t go upstairs until 1 in the morning. I stayed downstairs from 9 till 1 watching Mad Men on Netflix, and playing Bejeweled. Jasper was sitting on the chair above me, my cat Jasper. Not the singer/songwriter who’s in my drama group, the guy who broke two guitar strings. Not that Jasper. Anyway, it was a lovely quiet Saturday night and I really felt I’d deserved it. The past month, living in Northcote, has been wonderful but it’s also been quite taxing, and being home after all of it has just been really refreshing. It’s been weird too, undeniably so. Sitting here on my bed right now, staring at my bookshelf, my own library, and the whole mess of clothes and bags that has been the result of my homecoming, is really odd. I have to get this sorted out, I know, in order for my room to start feeling more like home to me. This is my home, though. There’s nothing like returning home from a long vacation to make you feel like you know where you belong. I feel like I belong here, which is saying something because I don’t think I’ve ever felt like I belong here. Even when I was living at Rachael’s and I came back here on the weekends, I never felt like I belonged in this home in Mill Park. But my family’s here, and I guess I belong with them, so I made do. Now, I just feel at ease here.

I woke up at half past ten both yesterday and today. I slept for like nine or ten hours these past few nights, and have woken up totally out of it. My dad picked me up from South Morang station last night, at around a quarter past eleven. I fell asleep watching Mad Men downstairs, dragged myself upstairs at around 2 in the morning and just collapsed in the dress I’d worn to dinner. OH DINNER. Gong De Lin, with Ikaros. I’ll tell you about Sunday afternoon first, though. I decided to wear my brown dress with the red and yellow feathery pattern on it. That dress, I’ve always said, matches my skin tone to a tee, so much so that it feels like that dress has just been painted onto my body and I love it for that reason. It was nice finally wearing it out. I biked to the station, caught the 901 to Greensborough and then waited on Platform 1 for 14 minutes in the searing heat. There were line works going on on the Hurstbridge side (platform two) and I embarrassed myself twice with two different line workers, because I’d walked past them singing whilst listening to my iPod. I’m using these earphones that came with my phone right now, until I can properly replace the ones I broke with Ikaros last week, because the ones that came with my phone are crazy awful. They do this weird thing where if I twist the cord in a particular way, the song freezes or Siri is called up onto the screen, or the song FAST FORWARDS which I didn’t even know was possible. Anyway, I did try and listen to music on the way to Ikaros’ as a means of ignoring the heat. It was incredibly hot and sunny yesterday. I didn’t check the weather before I left, but I was very glad to not be wearing stockings and to also be wearing a very light dress. I also found another pair of sunnies on the train to replace the ones that broke a week or so ago now, so my eyes were well-protected yesterday. I left the sunnies at Ikaros’ house though, so I don’t know what I’m going to do until I see him again, hopefully on Tuesday right before I see Rhiannon at Lentils (she’s got a gig).

Ikaros’ dad is back with Anna so I saw her again, which was weird. Ikaros’ dad asked me how my show went too. I said it was all good. Then I got into an involuntary ‘argument’ (it was a very one-sided discussion if anything) with Connor, that lasted far too long for both my and Ikaros’ comfort. When I finally managed to edge my way past Connor, Ikaros and I sat in his cool, dark bedroom for a while before we gave in and had REALLY REALLY GREAT SEX. I’d literally just typed that and Ikaros texted me that he loves me. Fuck, I wish we were perfect for each other. We aren’t. Like we couldn’t ever work out. I know that. But I wish we could, I really do. I came twice yesterday, and he recognised my first orgasm as it was happening. I told him what to look out for, and he recognised when I came. It was kind of touching. Like he finally knew what to pay attention for and he didn’t stop until he found it. Then we had penetrative sex and it was so hot and we just got so so into it, I came again. And he came too, naturally. Then we had a shower together, which I also realised I had really missed. After we’d finished, we heard his family talking about us outside in the kitchen/living room. Connor said we were having a shower together, and Paul was like ‘great, they’re saving water’, but then Connor asserted that we’d been in there for twenty minutes (which was not true). Then Connor started criticising Paul for taking ages in the shower in the morning, and Paul was trying to stand up for himself, and for us too. And we were on the other side of the door trying not to laugh. Once we’d gotten back to his room though, we just let loose. We couldn’t help it.

We got dressed very quickly and then headed into the city. We were eating around quarter past eight, at which point we were quite starving. But Gong De Lin does not disappoint! We got more lemon chicken, pumpkin soup, fried shiitake mushrooms in sweet and sour sauce, spicy noodles with pork and beef, these vegetable bao dumpling things and ‘chicken’ nuggets. Gong De Lin is a completely vegetarian Asian-style restaurant right on Swanston Street near the corner of Lonsdale and Swanston Streets, very close to Melbourne Central Station. It’s a little pricey (last night cost us $76.60, but Ikaros paid for everything because last time we went it was my treat) but the food is of top quality, honestly. I’ve eaten there twice now, both times with Ikaros, and both times were up there with the best meals I’ve ever had. I could not recommend this place more highly. It is, however, an egregious indulgence and I don’t see myself going back there more than once or twice in a year. We ate really well, and then we walked around the city. We went to Crown and checked out this glorious display they had on for Lunar New Year (which was on Saturday the 28th of January, and the reason why I’m not seeing Evan again until this weekend), and read our horoscopes for 2017. Ikaros was born in the year of the pig, and I’m an ox. The horoscopes warned us both about relationship troubles in 2017, which we expected. The ox horoscope said that I place too much power in words, and that can damage relationships (which is painfully true), and the pig horoscope said that Ikaros (if he’s single, which he kind of is) will meet someone special in the last half of this year. Pigs will have wealth in this year, and Oxen will have average financial success, but good professional opportunities. Hopefully that means I’ll be able to land some kind of internship with a council, or at a publishing firm.

Anyway, last night was really wonderful, and it felt like we were just happy and together again. I know that’s not the case though. I love Ikaros with all my heart. And I was very comfortable with him last night. It was like being out with my best friend. I’m going to make myself sad if I keep talking about this, I know. I feel myself getting sad right now. But I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t. Because it’s just been amazing knowing him. I love him so much, and whatever happens will happen. As long as we’re still in each other’s lives. As long as we still love each other. We have plenty of time for everything else.

#22 #30.01.2017 #gong de lin #morning pages

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growingupguidepup · 4 years

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Airlines Have Double Standards for Canines? – GUGP - Part - 1

Recently some airlines have changed their paperwork procedure for emotional support animals. A little over a month ago another passenger was bitten by a dog scheduled to travel on a plane. This time the victim was a child. At least this time one of the journalists got it right and the dog was labeled as an emotional support animal, not as a service dog.

But are these changes going to be enough to keep the passengers and the animals safe when traveling? The changes include notifying the airlines 48 hours in advance that the emotional support animal will be on a flight and signing paperwork saying that the animal is not likely to bite anyone.

Oftentimes the mainstream media is confused about what the difference is between a service dog and an emotional support animal, and therefore confuses the general public even further. The difference is really pretty major in my eyes.

An emotional support animal does nothing other than provide comfort. They are there for one to give a hug or pet when needed. They may provide a hug, nudge, or a headbutt. They may lick back. They may make one feel better emotionally. But nothing they do actually requires any type of training, just love. I’m sorry to burst everyone’s bubble, but providing love is not a trained task.

A service animal is specifically trained to do one or more tasks that directly aids someone who has a disability. I see news stories all the time about something happening to someone’s “service animal.” A few weeks ago I shared a news story on my personal Facebook Page about a woman’s “service dog” getting it’s foot caught in an escalator at LAX airport. The video footage shows the dog facing the wrong way on the escalator and the handler not paying any attention to the dog.

I guess it could be a service dog—how is one supposed to know if it is actually trained to do a task to aid its handler or if the handler is even disabled? But in my observation, the behavior shown by the handler and the dog in the video was not that of a well-trained service dog team. A service dog should be completely aware of its surroundings, know how to handle it, and be focused on what their handler needs. A handler should be setting their dog up for success (especially if it is still learning) and be aware of what their dog is doing and keeping them safe to the best of their abilities. This team was not the best example of what a service dog team should look like.

The thing is that people and as well as the media often call a dog a service dog because it will get more coverage and notice than a normal pet would. If the news had the headline of “LAX officer saves pet dog caught in escalator” it isn’t as flashy as “LAX officer saves service dog caught in escalator.” Now I have no way of knowing if this dog was called a service dog by the owner or the news station, or both. But you have to admit sharing a story advertising that a service dog was “heroically saved” sounds much better than “poor dog gets sucked into an escalator because owner was negligent.” Or it really could be a poorly trained service dog team—yes, those do exist and that is a whole separate topic for another future blog.

Same thing goes for missing dog posters and news. If people say that their dog went missing it gets little notice. But if people say that their service dog is missing, they get way more notice and sympathy. “OMG! We have to find this person’s service dog, their life is dependent on it!” But this blog isn’t really about the misrepresentation of service dogs in the news. This too will have to be a whole different blog. It’s more about the issues of animals in the cabin on flights and how easy it is for some to get access and how difficult it is for others, like puppy raisers.

More and more people are traveling with emotional support animals, and not all are even dogs. People are trying to pass all kinds of animals off as emotional support animals. Just recently someone tried to board a United Airlines flight with an emotional support peacock. Seriously, how does a peacock provide comfort? In most of my encounters with peacocks, I have seen them act almost semi aggressive towards people— which is not exactly a great pick for someone who might be stressed and require something to snuggle with.

Some of the airlines are doing a better job of denying these animals, but some are not. There was a story recently about a girl trying to board a flight with her emotional support hamster and upon being denied, she flushed it down a toilet because she said that it is what the airline told her to do so she could get to her destination. I’m still very baffled by this one. If an animal means that much to you that you need it to be able to handle flying, why on earth would you flush it? Then there are stories of snakes and ducks, and all kinds of other animals being allowed to fly. But in this day and age you have to wonder what stories are actually true and which ones are not.

Despite the influx of animals at airports lately, the most common support animal are still dogs. Almost anyone can board a plane these days with their dog as long as they have a note from a mental health professional stating that it is necessary for that person to have that animal with them when they fly. It has gotten so bad that people can purchase this type of letter over the internet without actually being seen by said professional.

Don’t even get me started on the multiple fake service dog/ESA registry sites out there. On most of these sites you have a choice to register your dog as an ESA (emotional support animal) or a service dog for a “very reasonable” price. No proof is required that your dog is actually trained as a service dog or that you really do require an ESA. These sites are scams catering to people who want to abuse the system. These sites are one of the biggest problems with pets being faked as service dogs in public and causing harm for legitimate service dog teams. These companies don’t care and believe they are not morally responsible to take precautions about making sure the public is safe from dogs that could potentially by dangerous or not conditioned to handle the stress of working. Nor do they have tools or have any access to examine the mental health of the animal involved. These companies don’t know if the service dog in question is able to handle the stress of accompening their handler in stressful environments nor do they care to ask. They only care about making a dollar and in my opinion need to be shut down.

If that information doesn’t scare you enough, how about the fact that there is not a single requirement in place to show that any emotional support animal being allowed on planes is required to have had any type of temperament testing or training to show that they can handle the stress of airline travel. Sure some of the airlines have paperwork that an owner needs to sign saying that they don’t believe that their dog would bite someone. But how many pet owners are really able to read the body language of their animals correctly and know if they may not be comfortable with the situation that their owner puts them in.

Let’s face it, traveling is very stressful and I can see how having your furry or, in some cases, feathered best friend along for the trip can make a person feel better. But what about the animal? How do you think animals handle the stress of traveling, especially if they are not used to being in busy crowded airports that have scary thing like suitcases on wheels being dragged around, or fast moving golf carts whizzing around, voices over loudspeakers, kids crying, people darting through crowds to make their flight, or even going through security? Not to mention sitting in very tight quarters with strangers for a long period of time, with no option to leave the situation.

ESA dogs are not service dogs and don’t have the same legal public access. So many ESAs are not accustomed to this type of stressful environment. It is no wonder why we keep hearing news reports about incidents on planes involving dogs. People are putting dogs in situations that are way past the dog’s comfort zone in order to stay in their own comfort zone. That doesn’t seem right, does it? To stress out a dog to lower one’s own personal stress level. Now not every ESA animal gets stressed by air travel, some are really good at it. But there is no way to discourage those that can’t handle the stress.

Do I dare talk about the animal’s relieving needs? How do you train a bird not to potty while on a plane or in the airport? Most support animals travel at the feet of their owner or in their lap, since they are not always required to be in a carrier. How well does this really work for animals other than dogs? What if someone was traveling with a rabbit or potbellied pig as their ESA? Do you know how often a rabbit poops?! Yet these types of animals have been allowed on planes.

Now airline travel is not for every person or animal. It is no wonder that there are stories about animals misbehaving on planes or in the airport. It is stressful for them and they often don’t know how to cope. This is not the fault of the animal, but rather the person that puts them in the situation that caused them to be so uncomfortable that they didn’t know what else to do. As an owner of an animal it is my job to protect that animal from harm. Harm can be so many things, keeping them on a leash so they don’t run into the street and get hit by a car, safe from poisons, safe from eating or chewing on unsafe objects (dog proofing your house), keeping them away from aggressive dogs or abusive people. But most people are not aware that bringing a dog into a stressful environment that they don’t know how to handle is harmful to that dog and therefore don’t protect them. What happens to a dog that bites a person? They sometimes get put into quarantine, or are not allowed out into public (this includes parks, trails, or other dog friendly places), their lives are forever changed … more stress on the dog. But you still just need that little slip of paper and to make a few extra arrangements with the airline to get your “ESA” on the flight with you.

I have to say that as a puppy raiser, I find this very frustrating for many reasons. It’s upsetting to hear about incidents of animals being stressed out to the point of them biting someone. But another aspect is that the average person doesn’t necessarily understand the difference between an ESA and a service dog. They might think that this is typically behavior for a service dog and cause a bad perception of service dogs and less acceptance for them out in public. This makes it harder for service dog teams to be accepted and puppy raisers like me who are trying to raise and train a puppy out in public, a very necessary part of the process of creating a successful service dog.

According to their websites, some major airlines prohibit service dogs in training from flying in the cabin with their handler. Delta Airlines has on their website “In most circumstances, a service or support animal in training does not meet qualifications for a trained animal and can not ride in the cabin.” United Airlines has this statement: “United only recognizes service animals which have been trained and certified. Animal trainers are permitted to bring one service animal that is training to assist disabled passengers onboard free of charge.” But they also state that “trainers transporting service animals in the ordinary course of business or service animals who are not in training must check these animals.” Well, that is a very confusing statement. So dogs in training are not recognized by the airline as service animals, but a trainer is allowed to bring one on a flight? Many airlines say that they will allow service dogs in training in the cabin only if they are flying to their new home for final placement. It is very hard to get an accurate answer from the airlines on whether or not a service dog in training is allowed to fly in the cabin. The information on websites is either confusing or not there. If you call the airline directly the agents on the phone are often confused by the question and don’t know how to answer.

So if I have this correct… airlines are more likely to let a dog or other animals on their airplane that have no evidence of training or having the temperament to handle the stress of flying, than a puppy or dog that is specifically training to handle situations like airline travel and more! Does anyone else see a problem with this?

Yes, I have flown with a number of puppies without an issue, but I have also been turned down by many airlines when trying to inquire about traveling with a puppy. It is usually because the puppy isn’t trained to assist me personally. But each time I have flown I faced the chance of being turned away. The communication with the airline employees on the policy of service dogs in training is all over the place. You can get a very different answer to question depending on who you ask.

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growingupguidepup · 4 years

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Do Airlines Have Double Standards for Canines? - Part 1

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