#never had 2 snow days in a row before i was so amazed this morning | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweetchup · 3 years

Text

Peppermint Twist

Type: Feitan x reader

Prompt: O’Inari’s Wisdom — On any day during this week, people of the ages of 19-30 years old will go through a walk in the woods carrying a clear ornament (Traditionally it used to be a Jar). The ornament is usually filled with the person’s favorite scent or perfume, Name and Phone number on paper slip, and their dream type of lover on a rose petal. When walking through the woods, the person allows the God/Goddess of the woods O’inari’s Imps to trick them into meeting their soulmate. It is a must to switch ornaments with that first person they see for it is said the imps won’t allow them to leave the forest unless they do so.

Author Note: I hope you guys like this one. I’m very proud of it and I think I’m getting better at my romance scenes :)).

(Prompts/Rules) (Holiday Masterlist)

You had no sense of time as you walked further and further along the frozen dirt road. Everything was just very repetitive with never ending rows upon rows of snow covered trees that surrounded you. With each continuous motion and action, you grew more and more tired. Something quite unusual for you, Though there was a simple answer on why.

You were bored. Extremely bored.

The only thing that seemed to give you some sort of entertainment out here was when you would occasionally come across a rock and you could kick it along as you walked to see how far you could keep it going. Occasionally, you would spice things up a little by passing it between you and your teammate Phinks who walked alongside you. Though that never lasted long because of course Feitan, being the spoilsport he is, would turn around to glare at you two making Phinks stop and ruin your fun.

Feitan Porter. Ever since you joined the troupe, you never understood the guy. You tried greeting him the first time you two met but he just scoffed and blew you off. You could normally deal with a cold shoulder from him, even on a dangerous mission. But you never, never, understood why he would get so mad at you for the randomest of things.

Playing a video game with Shal, Feitan will give you a scoff and a glare. A drinking contest with Uvogin and Nobunaga, a death threat and breaking all the alcohol bottles. You were almost positive that one time when you were talking too long to the boss that he “accidentally” threw a knife at your head. A knife! At your very own teammate that is!!

“Hey,” Machi says, cutting through the silence, “How about we stop at that place for the night?”

Following where she was pointing to, you are surprised to see an old hot spring hotel. How weird, what was this doing in a place like this?

“But it’s not even dark yet.” Shizuku questions, confused as she looks to the still blue sky.

“Well that’s because a snowstorm is coming so we can’t camp outside tonight.” Franklin explains as he follows Machi up the stone path to the hotel.

“Oh, now I get it.” Shizuku answers before suggesting, “(Y/n), Machi, We should get a bath in after we check in.”

“Sure. Sounds good to me.” You answer, quickly catching up to Shizuku. A few almost breathless whispers could be heard behind you making you let out a deep sigh, “Shalnark. Phinks.”

The two freeze as they hear you call their names. Craning your head to look at the two, you give them a nasty glare. As well as slightly releasing your bloodlust as you venomously spit out a warning to the two. “If you two even think of peeping on us, not only will I carve out your eyeballs but I will make you wish you were never born.”

Phinks pales and quickly nods his head in understanding while Shalnark lets out a nervous laugh. Those two knew not to mess with you when you were angry. Especially from previous experiences.

“Good. I’m glad you two understand.”

—.—.—.—.—

“Ah~~ That was nice.” You say out loud to the two other girls as you walk back from the bathhouse. You truly felt fully refreshed from the herbal bath you were just in. Man, did hot springs work wonders.

“Yeah it also helped that you stopped the boys from peeping in on—“

“Hello ladies.” You three turn to look at the elderly lady wearing a kimono that had cut off your conversation. As she walks up closer to you three, you recognize her as the owner of the inn. “I hope you three are having a nice stay. I wanted to give you ladies these.”

You watch as the elderly lady pulls out three glass ornaments from her pocket. As you grab one, it strikes you what day it is. You can’t believe you forgot it was the first day of O’inari’s Wisdom.

“Ah, I can’t believe I forgot it was the holiday season.”

The elder lady chuckles at you as you look at the items given in the ornaments, “I hope you three take place in the tradition tonight. It’s good luck to do it before a snowstorm after all—“

“No need.” Jumping at the new heard voice, you turn around to see it was just Feitan. As he walks over, he forcibly takes the ornaments from you, “Not interested.”

“Hey Fei! There's no need for that!” You shout at him angrily as he chucks the ornament at the lady’s feet. A loud shatter is heard as it breaks all over the floor as well as some of it likely sticking into the elderly lady’s skin. Quickly, you get on your knees to pick up the glass. Hearing Feitan scoff as you do so, “I’m so sorry Miss. I’ll—“

The Elderly Lady cuts you off by placing her hand on your shoulder and giving you a warm smile. “It’s okay dear. I was being too forward anyways.”

As she says this, she sneakily places another ornament into the pocket of your robe; giving you a small wink as she does so. With a bow towards you and the rest she takes her leave.

Angrily, you stand up and whip around to give Feitan a piece of your mind. However, you only see that he was already long gone.

“Bastard…” You mutter under your breath, storming back to your room.

You were officially done with having to deal with Feitan Porter. Especially with his bipolar attitude towards you. You kept on wishing that he could, at the very least, make up his mind if he wants to ignore you or not. However you were now over with his antics. Clutching the ornament in your pocket a plan forms in your head. Feitan wasn’t the boss of you and you were going to prove that to him. First being by ignoring his orders and doing this tradition.

The loud slam of your door closing resounds throughout the whole inn as Machi and Shizuku continue to stand there. Letting out a sigh Machi finally starts to make her way back to her room.

“Machi, Why does Feitan do that to (y/n)?” Shizuku questions confused, following after her.

“Well, according to the boss and Phinks, it’s because he has a crush on her.” Machi explains. However, all she can think of is how stupid Feitan is being. (Y/n) has said, when drunk, that she does find Feitan attractive so he does have a chance of dating her. But all he keeps on doing is pushing her further and further away.

“I get that but don’t you think that was a bit much. Throwing the ornament at the woman’s feet.”

“I guess so…” Machi runs her hand through her hair as she gives one last goodbye to Shizuku before entering her room. Once in her room, she ponders for a moment. She didn’t think Feitan was going too far in that aspect. Afterall, She couldn’t pinpoint it exactly but something felt off about that elderly lady. It could be one of her hunches but she didn’t know if it was reliable enough or not right. Deciding to leave it alone for now, she goes to bed.

Afterall, everyone is safe for now so she can always deal with the hunch in the morning if she has to.

—.—.—.—.—

Lifting the lantern up further forward, you attempt to see what was up ahead through the forest. Honestly even though you haven’t seen or met your possible “Soulmate” like in the old tales, it was just an amazing time to be out by yourself like this. It was always a rare thing to get time to yourself, especially after joining the troupe. Though that was mostly because even after missions Feitan wouldn’t leave you alo—

A crunching noise is suddenly heard behind you. Whirling around you, you listen silently. You couldn’t see anything nor sense any aura right now but you definitely know you weren’t imagining that you heard something.

“I got you now!” At the sound of the voice, you quickly move away from the attack and hit behind you with your lantern. A sickening crack is heard as the lantern breaks against the person who attacked you. Moving away and turning around, you see oil that has leaked from the lateen has fallen onto the person and immediately caused them to catch on fire.

Walking up slowly to the burning body, you realize that it wasn’t a person at all instead it was a creature. A creature anyone could easily identify. Afterall, the ash gray skin with a sunken face and body was a dead give away.

“God damn blood sucking ghouls.” You curse under your breath as you throw the now useless lantern to the side.

Quickly, at the sound of more crunching of snow you get into a readied stance. Ghouls are known to work in packs or groups so more should be approaching nearby. Simply, you were in for a long night.

—.—.—.—.—

The knocking at her door immediately wakes Machi up. As she gets up, she immediately checks the time. It was only 2 in the morning. What was going on? She thought everyone was going to leave at 5.

As she leaves her bed, she hears the knocking only getting louder, almost to the point the person behind it was practically banging down the door.

“Coming! Give me a second!” Machi yells as she runs to the door. As she opens it she sees a bloody Shalnark at the door, “What the hell happened to you?! Where are the others?”

Quickly, she lets him in and attempts to bandage up the bloody wound on his arm. As Machi bandages it up she notices it wasn’t any sort of wound caused by battle but an unusual bite wound. As she goes to ask what happens, Shalnark was already ahead of her and begins to explain, “Turns out that the old lady running this inn was actually a ghoul in disguise. Her and her buddies use this hotel to attract customers to be easily attacked and eaten.”

“Shit,” Machi murmurs under her breath as she finishes up tying the bandage, “Where are the others? Do they know what’s going on?”

“They sho—“ Suddenly, the opening of Machi’s room door cuts the two off. Machi quickly gets in a fighting stance but, thankfully, all that walked in was Feitan.

“You idiot. Knock next time, I was ready to cut your head off.” Machi scolds as Feitan looks around the room. Though when he walks out from checking the bathroom, both Shalnark and Machi finally notice the worried look on his face.

“Fei. What’s— Hey wait!” Shalnark shouts, watching Feitan run off. Standing up, Shalnark and Machi go to the door. “What was that—?”

“Machi! Shalnark!” Turning their heads the other way, they see Shizuku and Franklin running down the hall.

“What is going on with Feitan?” Shalnark cuts in quickly as the two approach.

“It’s because we can’t find (y/n) anywhere. She’s not in her room nor anywhere else.” Franklin explains as Shizuku begins to look around. “Did you guys see her last night? Or hear anything?”

“No, the last I saw her was after taking our baths.”

“I haven’t seen her since we’ve checked in.”

Franklin lets out a grumble as he hears another door get broken down by Feitan, “Well I need one of you two to calm down Feitan while we try to look for her. She couldn’t have go—“

“Guys I found something!” Phinks yells out from somewhere in the hotel. As he does so, Shalnark is almost knocked to the ground by Feitan running past him to where Phinks was located.

“Calm the fuck down Feitan!” Shalnark shouts out as Machi catches him from falling. Clutching his injured arm as he runs after the man, the others close behind as well.

As they approach to where Phinks was, they see him outside, yelling off into the dark woods with Feitan nowhere in sight. Turning around at the opening of the door, Phinks angrily says, “I found (y/n) footprints but once I tried to explain the bastard ran off on me!”

“Well we sho—“ Shizuku grows silent at the loud noise of a growl. Conjuring up her vacuum, she gets ready to fight, “Actually, it seems we have some company.”

“Yeah.” Franklin agrees as the others grow tense at the growling getting louder, “Feitan will be fine on his own. We need to first deal with the ghouls still in the hotel.”

—.—.—.—.—

You shakily inhale and exhale as you focus on your breathing. The fast falling of snow flurries melting on your warm face. Shit, you didn’t expect a sudden drop off the hill like that.

You attempt to move your feet but it only causes you to groan in pain. Not good, you bet you broke at least one of your ankles from that fall. Not counting the injuries in other areas you probably sustained.

Rolling off of your side, you drag yourself through the snow to the wall of the hill you fell off of. You could hardly move right now, so you don’t know how you would fight or defend in a situation like this. Your only possible choice was to hide and wait. At least until the sun rose.

Carefully, as to not injure yourself further, you shimmy and lay your body underneath the thick bushes that covered the edge of the wall. Once settled in, you feel a harsh gush of wind hit against you. The wind was so cold, so frigid, that you have to close your eyes because it practically burned to keep them open.

As you continue to squeeze your eyes shut as you lay there, the wind only grows more and more stronger. Almost as if it was attempting to pull or drag you somewhere.

“(Y/n)”

Your eyes shoot open at the call of your name. Though as you open them, you don’t see anything in the pitch black forest around you. Was it just the howling of the wind deceiving you?

“(Y/n)!”

There it was again, it can’t possibly be the wind. The voice sounds familiar as well. Who was that calling for you?

“(Y/n)!!”

Now closer, you recognized who the voice was. The feeling of hot bubbling tears roll down your cheeks as you attempt to answer back.

“F-Fei” The first time hardly comes out as a whisper and you have to call out again, “Fei!!”

The wind pricking at your skin slowly dies down as you hear the loud sound of snowy footsteps running up to the bush you were hiding in. At first, you were worried that maybe you had attracted a ghoul to your location instead of Feitan but once the feeling of a warm collapsed hand touches your cheek, that worry goes away.

“Fei.. Eep!” You can’t help but let out a whine as Feitan harshly pulls out of the bush by your collar. The pain from all your injuries shooting up and down your whole body. “Ow! Ow! Be gentl—“

Without a single warning nor care, Feitan harshly grabs the back of your head and kisses you. He kissed you so harshly it was as if he was telling you how much he hated you. As if he loathed every single part of you. Rough with a harsh grip on your hair. Painful with a harsh bite at your lips. The bite was hard enough to cause you both to taste the harsh taste of iron, of blood, hitting your tongues.

As Feitan slowly pulled away from the kiss, you were sure, even with it being a kiss, Feitan Porter was telling you he hated you.

You weren’t surprised, you think to yourself as you close your eyes. Feitan had proved to you many ways before that he hated you. Honestly, he probably thought it was so annoying to have to come find you out here.

A wetness suddenly hits your cheek. At first you think it was snow just melting. But, then you realize it wasn’t cold like snow. No, it was warm.

Then, another one hits you again causing you to finally open your eyes.

“Fei?” You question, shakily lifting your hand up to the man’s cheek. Calmly, even though you are quite confused, you wipe the tears from his face.

“Idiot.” He curses out almost silently as he glares down at you, “What were you thinking?”

“I-I-“

You want to tell him why you did this. How annoyed you are with him with his constant bipolar attitude towards you. How you hate how he bosses you around. How much you hate him—

You feel yourself pause at that thought. The thought that made your heart ache. Was that correct? Did you really hate Feitan Porter?

“You weren’t!” Feitan shouts out snapping you out of your thoughts, “Did you leave for this?!”

You feel Feitan harshly grab something from your pocket and shove it into your face. It was the ornament you had made.

“You just had to go off in the forest for some stupid ass male that doesn’t know two shits about you?! Just because you want to go live happily ever after!”

You grit your teeth as you push the ornament out of your face.

“Is it wrong to want to meet your true love, Feitan? Someone to stick by my side, someone to care about me, someone who—“

“I LOVE YOU, (Y/N). ISN’T THAT ENOUGH?!” Feitan screams at you, breaking the ornament with his bare hand. Even with the feeling of glass and blood hitting your face, you don’t flinch nor attempt to move. Neither does Feitan as he just continues to look down at you. An unreadable expression on his face.

“I-I… You...” You attempt to speak. Possibly to answer Feitan, give him some sort of reassurance but the words die in your throat. You just didn’t know what to say.

You think for a little bit longer before you chose what to say, “Feitan you’ve always been enough. But…

You can’t stop yourself from shivering in the cold. You’ve been out here for way too long.

“B-but… I’ve never known how you felt. You might have thought I did but I never. I’ve always thought you’ve sort of.... hated me.”

It’s silent once again, yet this time you can’t bring yourself to look at Feitan’s face. You think for a moment maybe you should try to suggest to just head back. But, before you do that, you already feel Feitan standing up as he holds you firm in his arms.

You believed that you two were heading back to the hotel but Feitan doesn’t make an attempt to move or even make his way back to the hotel. You finally turn back to look at Feitan and, for the second time that night, Feitan captures his lips in yours.

This time the kiss wasn’t harsh, not even the slightest bit. His lips moved softly against yours, moving carefully and slowly to perfectly model against your lips. Feitan places a hand in your hair but it wasn’t like before, no not at all. His calloused hand caressed softly through your hair, almost soothing and petting you in a way.

So soothing in fact, that you didn’t even realize you had draped your arms over his shoulder and were kissing Feitan back.

As he pulls away, he can’t help but go in to peck your lips once more, and then another, before finally pulling away.

He stares at you for a couple of seconds, as if he was taking in how looked right now, before saying, “I’ll prove to you me loves you and then…

Feitan slowly leans into your ear, his harsh voice against it causing goosebumps to pop up in that area,

“...I’ll steal your heart. So, that you can never love anyone else other than me….”

#hxh #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #feitan #feitan portor

74 notes · View notes

seiin-translations · 3 years

Text

2.43 S1 Chapter 1.4 - Young Yunichika

4. MISCONDUCT

Translation Notes

1. Bon refers to a young man from a well-to-do family

2. These are lyrics from the opening theme for the famous volleyball anime, Attack No.1

3. I know nothing about Attack No.1 so I have no idea what this is referring to. The original line is “ヒロイン訛ってるって”. If you know anything about this, let me know

4. The kanji for Meisei is 銘誠. 銘 from 座右の銘 (means favorite motto) and 誠 is pronounced makoto by itself

5. Meisei-chuu as in Meisei Middle School

Previous || Index || Next

Haijima Kimichika was an idiot. No, his grades overall weren’t that bad. He was slightly above middling for his third semester finals. However, Kuroba was dumbfounded when he saw the breakdown of that “slightly above middling.”

In regards to math and social studies, he was well above the average, and in fact, he was at the top of the class in his grade. Math, ninety-five. Social studies, ninety-nine—that was the first time he ever saw ninety-nine on an exam paper. He was taken aback by the brilliance of the two 9’s next to each other.

But, things didn’t look good from there. Science, seventy-three. English, sixty. His marks around here were so normal that it made you wonder what his high marks in math and social studies were. Apparently, his strong areas were unusually inclined towards calculation and memorization.

Japanese,

Thirty points.

…They really were unusually inclined.

“Ooh, there’s a whole row of x’s here. What a nice view.”

It was a question about close reading a novel. The answers to “What are the emotional states of the characters”-type questions were continuously absurd, and the way the x’s were written was becoming increasingly desperate, as if to represent his Japanese teacher’s emotional state.

“For the question ‘Please answer in eighty words or less why you think the king forgives Melos,’ you answered, ‘Melos was naked the cow,’. I can see the signs of suffering from trying to write a little more, but not being able to write a sentence and getting frustrated. …Cow?”

“Shut up. You’re always joking about people’s exam answers.”

“Ow ow ow!”

Kuroba groaned as he fell prostrate on the exam papers spread out between his legs with a weight pressed tightly against his back. The other club members laughed at the two stretching as a pair.

“You shouldn’t laugh at other people, Yuni. You got forty-two in math and fifty-five in social studies.”

“Hey, don’t read it aloud. This is an invasion of privacy.”

“Japanese…oh? Eighty-seven. Not bad.”

“For real?”

His back lightened with Haijima’s upset-sounding voice. He lifted his body with a self-satisfied look that said “Fufufu. Japanese is the only thing this guy’s good at,” but Haijima, who snatched and returned Kuroba’s Japanese exam paper, once again pressed down on his back tightly with his entire upper body while staring at his answers with a slightly displeased look on his face. Kuroba grumbled “Ow ow ow” while facing the floor in an open-legged forward bending position.

“Why did you answer the cow question like this? I don’t get it at all.”

“First, let go of the cow…I think the first issue is that no cows appear in the story. I’m getting worried about whether or not you can get into high school.”

He briefly wondered if one could get into school through a volleyball recommendation, but even if one could, it didn’t matter because there was no chance of their weak club reaching the point where they could get noticed in a big tournament. If Haijima was in his previous middle school, recommendations might come, however—he hadn’t asked Haijima himself, but there was no doubt that he had been in a fairly strong volleyball club with a decent coach. He had no idea what a full-scale stretching regimen was until he started practicing with Haijima. Next, Kuroba laid on his back as Haijima took his legs and thoroughly stretched them.

I thought that since Haijima would have nothing left if you took volleyball away from him, it would be his greatest desire to go to a strong volleyball school, but…

Haijima Kimichika was a volleyball fanatic.

The ban on club activities, which had been suspended a week before finals, had been lifted, and they held a practice day at once. With people turning up once they knew it was active, the boys’ volleyball team, which used to be as good as non-existent, had more or less taken on the appearance of club activities recently. With just barely six people, they still haven’t been in a match yet.

It was when they stood up and stretched their backs after finishing their brief stretching session.

“Kuroba, how tall are you now?”

Haijima said while looking up at his hair whorl.

“Hmm? Didn’t I say I was one-seventy-three?”

“When did you measure that?”

“Um…in fall, I think…November?”

He tamped down his hair whorl, but his bed hair bobbed back up. He felt depressed when he wondered if he had been exposing this hair to people all day since morning.

There was a scale on the door frame of the gym equipment room that could be used to measure height, and was used to compare heights for fun during club activities and gym class. It was probably the work of students from decades ago. It was the culmination of very precise work, with each millimeter being carved out from one-fifty to one-eighty centimeters with a utility knife.

“One-seventy-five-point-zero.”

Putting an empty powdered drink box to the top of Kuroba’s head, Haijima read the scale out loud.

“Ooh, I grew two centimeters?”

“My turn.”

They exchanged places and now it was Haijima with his back to the scale.

“Don’t raise your heels. Um, one-seventy-two-point…seven.”

“Ah. I grew too.”

But, Haijima didn’t seem too happy about it. With a sullen face, he left the scale and grumbled “Two centimeters off.”

“Two-point-three centimeters off. Don’t round it down. You’re a setter, so you don’t have to be so worried about your height, right?”

“I have a favorite player. It’s Abe, who was selected for the national team. He’s a setter, but he’s one-ninety-one. Even for setters, the bigger you are, the better you block and the faster you set. And, Abe’s ambidextrous, and he has a good left dump.”

“Huh? That reminds me, do you also…”

Haijima served with his left hand. But which hand did he hit with outside of those times...he didn’t have a clear impression. He felt like he recalled him hitting with his left and with his right.

“Use both hands?”

“I do,” He said carelessly, but was that something so easy to do? “There’s still an eighteen-centimeter difference, huh… But Abe can’t hit jump serves, so once my height catches up, I’ll be better.”

When it came to the subject of volleyball, Haijima became more talkative than usual. The way he spoke was basically like cutting short the front part of the context and throwing away the back end, but he came to be able to speak fairly long lines in a polite manner. He must love it a lot, he thought in half amazement and half admiration.

“I’m not sure if you have way too much confidence in yourself or is just an idiot…but I never thought you’d compare yourself to a member of the national team.”

He forced a smile, and got glared at with resentful eyes. He got scared, wondering if he said something that made him angry. He still wasn’t very good at knowing what set Haijima off.

“Kuroba, at the practice game, you see blocks and differentiate between hitting the ball cross and straight, right?”

“Cross-court and straight…oh, straight is where you hit the ball right down the middle, and cross is where you twist a little and hit it outside.”

“It’s the other way around, dumbass.”

He had answered with hand gestures while tilting his head to the side in confusion, but was completely denied with an insult.

“A cross is a spike that passes through the court at an angle. A straight is a spike that goes straight and parallel to the sidelines. When you’re hitting on the front row, you tend to step towards the center in front of the net a lot, so if you hit it straight on, it becomes a cross, and if you hit it with the intention to twist it outside, it will be straight.”

“So complicated…”

“It’s not that complicated, but…oh well. I’ll teach you step by step.”

He thought “Teach me?” every time, but why was he naturally acting like he was above him?

“Even if you don’t understand it with your head, you have good eyes, so you can deal with blocks. Being able to naturally rotate your trunk midair, the length of your time in the air, the suppleness of your shoulders…those are qualities you’ve probably always had. You will get good. It’ll be in no time if you do it properly. You’ll be taller, too.”

“…? Do you have a fever?”

He stared at Haijima’s face suspiciously and got a suspicious look in return.

“What. Did I say something weird?”

“No, it’s just that you’re always so self-important, so I thought you were someone who wouldn’t praise or acknowledge people in that way.”

“If there’s something to acknowledge, then of course I’m gonna acknowledge it. But, there’s no way to acknowledge what’s not there.”

Haijima stated, pouting and seeming truly upset.

Haijima never flattered. He wasn’t humble. He couldn’t hold himself back. Indeed, he might be sincere and straightforward in a sense. …But, he thought it was probably a tough way to live. Most people didn’t want to be told the truth right to their faces.

“You will get good.”

Afterwards, slowly but steadily, a ticklish feeling welled up in the depths of his body. It was uncool to take someone at their word, so he purposely looked indifferent and said,

“I have a talent for volleyball, huh. It won’t make me all that popular though.”

He feigned ignorance and talked big. Unlike Haijima, he felt like he had been drifting through life frivolously, with a bunch of façades lined up in front of him, obscuring reality.

***

The days have become longer, and the chill had subsided considerably. It was now often possible to sneak peeks at patches of blue in the sky which had been covered by depressing snow-laden clouds in midwinter. The sun had completely set when he nearly ran over Haijima in front of that karaoke box in February, but by mid-March, there was still some faint light left in the sky at that same time of day. A rusty copper sunset fringed the ridgelines of Mount Nokude in the distance.

Since their houses were in the same direction, he ended up going home with Haijima on days they had club activities. Their enamel bags, slung over their shoulders, rattled, and they tread on the rugged road in their snow boots. Although the snow on the road melted during the day and was close to becoming sherbet, it had begun to freeze again in the shape of punched-through car ruts and footprints. During the snowfall season from December to March, elementary and middle school students were prohibited from cycling to school, so it took forty minutes to get there on foot. There was no doubt that they would starve before they reached home, so the two stuffed their cheeks with sweet bread as they walked. Incidentally, he stuffed himself with two pieces of bread before club and of course he was going to eat dinner when he got home. At any rate, he was hungry. And at any rate, he was sleepy.

Until one or two months ago, he would have wanted to skip over middle school and become a high school student as soon as possible, but come to think of it, he had stopped thinking about that recently. He had no time to think about superfluous things because after he finished club activities, went home, ate, and took a bath, he immediately went to bed. He fell asleep feeling like he was sinking into the floor with his futon, and then when he woke up, it was next morning.

Finals were over, and now it was time to neglect everything and go into spring break. And whether he left it alone or made a fuss, once the break ended, he would become a third-year. The word examinee still didn’t really strike home for him.

“Haijima, what are you gonna do for high school? Are you taking it here?”

He finally broached the subject that actually wanted to ask him about during club, but hesitated over.

“Well, I was thinking of taking it here, but…”

He got stuck on how Haijima trailed off at the end of his sentence, which was unusual for him.

“But? Is there a condition or something?”

He once again asked Haijima’s profile, which was bulged out with the bread he stuffed in his mouth. He wasn’t wearing his glasses right now. Haijima always followed the procedure of putting in contact lenses and taping his hands before club started. If he taped first, he wouldn’t be able to handle his contacts. When club activities were finished, he followed that procedure in reverse, but there were days when he went home as he was, perhaps because he couldn’t be bothered. From the point of view of Kuroba, whose vision had never fell below 20/20 and whose fingernails and bones seemed healthy and strong, he had a difficult constitution.

“More importantly, new first-years will come in April.”

“Hmm? Oh yeah. Skilled guys would get picked up by the other clubs, so it’s better not to get your hopes up, but maybe we can get one or two people.” More importantly? He had a feeling he was changing the subject, but the timing to repeat the question escaped him.

“If we get more members, I wanna go to a tournament. I don’t know the tournament schedule here, but there should be a prefectural tournament before the summer inter-school.”

“Tournament, huh. But even if we can be in it, I don’t think we can win at our level…”

“It’s no fun if you don’t play a game. I wanna be in a match. I’m gonna train you all to be presentable enough by summer. I’ll take care of the rest.” Once again, he said that he was gonna train us without hesitation. Is he treating us like performing monkeys or something?

Ah, there it was. The sparkle in his eyes like that of a dinosaur-loving elementary schooler. Though he was just being arrogant and saying something self-centered, when he had that look in his eyes, he couldn’t help but feel that it was as though it was being secretly switched with something of pure purpose. Kuroba realized that he couldn’t oppose those eyes at all.

“Ooookay, got it. We need an advisor to be in a tournament or it’s no good, right? Let’s ask tomorrow.”

When he said that with a sigh, a crude voice called out to them from the side of the road.

“Hey, isn’t that the head house’s bon walking there?” (1)

It came from in front of the signboard of the aforementioned “Karaoke Box Monshiro”. Was this the only place to hang out? Well, it probably was. There were three men. Two 125cc motorbikes and one moped. Each of them was sitting astride their seats and hanging their butts on their tandem grips, smoking cigarettes as they tucked their chins inside their collars of their jackets, looking cold. They had the appearances of what countryside delinquents should be.

“Oh, Yori-chan!”

Kuroba called out to him with a smile, but Yorimichi only took a glance at his appearance and looked away.

The other two were Yorimichi’s senpais, both from the neighborhood. When someone other than his relatives called him the “head house’s bon”, it was probably filled with ridicule, but since he was used to it, he didn’t react to it every single time, and Kuroba greeted them in a friendly manner as well.

“’Sup. It’s been a while. I didn’t know you guys are back.”

“It’s spring break in uni too. Bon, how much you got today?”

“Oh…I only have some coins. I’ve been doing club activities lately so there’s a lot of times when I’d be leaving my bag alone.”

“’Club activities’?”

The two repeated it with a rising inflection that contained laughter.

“Oh, is that what Yorimichi was talking about?”

Smirking, they eyed Kuroba from the top of his head to his feet. He uncomfortably let his gaze escape to Haijima, who was waiting next to him. When he looked at Haijima, he could see his own appearance like he was looking into a mirror, or rather, he was just copying Haijima, but—he was wearing a knee-length padded coat over his jersey with his rectangular enamel sports bag slung over his shoulder, and he really did look like he was coming back from a sports club. In regards to the padded coat, Kuroba saw Haijima’s and also bought one recently.

“You do receives or something, how did that go again? We didn’t do it in gym in high school, so I completely forgot.”

The two had mean smiles on their faces, pointing their chins. Either the smoke of their cigarettes or the whiteness of their breath from the cold made their stubbled mouths misty.

“Um, it’s like this, I guess…?”

Kuroba had no choice but to drop his hips on the spot and did the posture for an underhand pass, and the two cackled and applauded.

“Wow, looking pretty good, aren’t you? I know, it’s that thing, Attack No.1, right?”

“That old manga? It’s that ‘I won’t cry, I’m just a girl’ thing, right?” (2)

“The heroine spoke in dialect. Gyahahaha!” (3)

“Haha…”

When Kuroba forced a smile while feeling his face turning hot, his bag was suddenly pulled on. The strap was biting into the pit of his stomach. “Gueh,” he groaned as he turned around.

“Haijima?”

“You’re just getting looked down on. We’re not playing around. Don’t keep them company.”

Like he was pulling on the leash of a not particularly disciplined dog, Haijima primly started walking while gripping the strap. “Okay, okay, don’t pull me. It’s dan…” Right when he twisted his body around and rushed to follow him,

“You’re hanging out with us, right, Yuni?”

Yorimichi called out to his back.

Haijima turned around, not even trying to hide his annoyance. Kuroba also followed his gaze while feeling lost. Turning away and smoking his cigarette, Yorimichi snorted sarcastically.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting’ influenced by Fighting Spirit Chika-chan, are ya? You’re the one who’s gonna be embarrassed later.”

“Hey…oh, hey Yori-chan, are you mad at me? Sorry for not hanging out with you lately. We’ll do stuff together during spring break.”

“Kuroba, we’re practicing during spring break too.”

Haijima’s dissatisfied sounding voice pierced the back of his ear. “We can’t practice everyday, right?” When he turned around with a half-smile, his face seemed to say, As a matter of fact, of course we are. “If we’re going to the summer tournament, we’ll still never make it in time even with that.” “Are you serious…” He was of course ready to have fun and relax during spring break, so when he was told to be prepared to completely spend that time on club activities… I underestimated this guy’s volleyball obsession.

“Yuuuuni. You understand, right? It’s no good for you. It’d be less embarrassing if you stop playing around. I ain’t patient either, so I can’t wait too long for you.”

“Hey, even Yori-chan’s being mean? You’re not serious, right?”

He looked at Yorimichi again with a twitching smile. “Oh, you’re pretty popular, Bon. If you pick one, you have to cut off the other. This is a real mess.” The two university students irresponsibly jeered and aggravated the situation.

“You, you get it, right? I have the same blood in my veins as you, so we get fired up and cooled off easily. I’ll probably get bored halfway, right?”

He ended up prioritizing putting Yorimichi in a good mood with a joking tone. A cold sweat ran down the nape of his neck as he felt Haijima’s burning gaze scorching it.

He knew that he was playing it safe. He was still afraid now that Yorimichi would throw him away. He wanted to secure the warm place he could always return to if things got tough. Don’t put me together with you, he grumbled in his mind. Haijima, who didn’t have an ounce of doubt about himself doing volleyball, probably wouldn’t understand, but for us until just now, guys who went hardcore for club activities were just something to be watched from a distance and gawked at.

Yorimichi bared his teeth and grinned.

“Haha, that’s right. You’re the same as me.”

Relieved, Kuroba also slackened his cheeks.

And, the heat wave of Haijima’s gaze that was burning the back of his neck also abruptly disappeared. The strap was released to send him flying.

“Then quit now.”

Haijima said it bluntly in a cold voice, a complete reversal from the heat of earlier.

“Hey, no need to go that far…”

“I don’t want to the tournament to get messed up.”

“Messed up…”

He immediately guessed that he was talking about scandals that would result in a suspension. Kuroba himself didn’t smoke or drink, but he overlooked Yorimichi doing it. It wasn’t illegal to ride double on a bike, but having only one helmet was probably not allowed. It wasn’t a good look to sneak into karaoke bars either. He didn’t really care about it until now, but it was somewhat understandable that school sports were sensitive to those kinds of issues.

Haijima’s concern was reasonable, and perhaps this was where he should be sorry. But on the contrary, antagonism reared its head. So, from the beginning, he wasn’t worried about whether or not Kuroba would continue to do volleyball or not, but about that?

“You showed your true colors, eh!”

Yorimichi’s loud voice suddenly rang out. Haijima glared suspiciously at him and Kuroba was also confused. Peeling his lips back in a vicious grin that made him draw back a little, Yorimichi continued to speak in a theatrical way.

“The infamous ‘Genius Setter’ of Meisei Middle School only thinks about satisfying his own desires, right?”

“Yori-chan? What are you talking about?”

“You were the one who wanted to know, Yuni. You asked why he came back here. That’s why I investigated.”

Haijima’s sharp gaze immediately moved to Kuroba. He did voice his doubts, but he thought the conversation ended there, so to think that Yorimichi would investigate it…

“Oops, you’re barking up the wrong tree if you’re blaming Yuni. It’s that ‘you reap what you sow’ kind of thing, right?”

Yorimichi came down from his bike and stepped on his cigarette to put it out. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his down jacket and approached him with bowlegs and swinging shoulders, looking particularly vulgar. “Move, Yuni,” he said, pushing Kuroba aside and standing before Haijima.

“I could have easily gotten the name of your school from your grandpa through mine. Well, I used Itoko though, since I’ve been given up on by Gramps. So when I quickly searched the net…oh look, there’s slander of the ‘Genius Setter’ who reigned over Meisei Middle until last year. The net sure is terrifyin’. Everything’s on there. Well, I guess it means you’re not liked very much.”

The more Yorimichi talked, the stiffer Haijima’s expression became. The color disappeared from Haijima’s face that seemed to embody the world’s arrogance and fearlessness, and his gaze dropped downwards. The shadow of Yorimichi, who was a size bigger in height and width, hung over the head of Haijima, who was looking down and biting his lower lip. “Oi oi, look at the poor guy, Yorimichi. Don’t bully middle schoolers. You’ll make him cry.” The two university students saying insincere things were completely taking the role of spectators.

“Yuni.”

“Huh? Y-yeah.”

Kuroba reflexively responded, unable to catch up with the conversation very well. Yorimichi’s face changed from that of someone tormenting a dying animal, and when he turned around, he was no longer smiling. It was an extremely serious expression.

“I don’t have anything against Chika, but I don’t really care. I think it’s petty to talk about other people behind their backs online. It’s all for you. Don’t get too absorbed in it. After all there was apparently someone who attempted suicide because of this guy——”

An instant later, Haijima barked something that couldn’t be expressed in words and grabbed Yorimichi. “Oh?” Although Yorimichi staggered a little, their physiques and amount of fight experiences were different. He grabbed Haijima’s face and thrust it aside, just like he was grabbing a ball—a dodgeball instead of a volleyball—with one hand and throwing it violently. Haijima was lightly blown off two or three meters away, the side of his face crashing into the muddy snow-covered road.

Because it was the first time he heard Haijima’s enraged voice, Kuroba was temporarily distracted by that. He hurriedly broke into Yorimichi’s path.

“Yo-Yori-chan, stop! Violence is no good!”

“He was the one who charged at me. Ah, it’d be no good for a sports boy to be violent, right? Didn’t you say that yourself? I’m being kind by ending it with just knocking him down.”

Yorimichi threw mocking jeers at Haijima over Kuroba’s shoulder. Kuroba turned around and ran up to Haijima, who was crouching and holding his hand to his face. “Oi, you’re alive…” he knelt down and was about to touch his shoulder, but what Yorimichi said flashed across his mind and he stopped his hand.

…Attempted suicide…?

“Let’s go back. My ass is frozen.”

Urging the two university students, Yorimichi returned to his bike.

“Yuni, get over here.”

Summoned, Kuroba looked up at the chin of Yorimichi, who was sitting astride his bike, but hesitated and returned his gaze to Haijima. His earlobe, which was poking out from the gaps between his hair, were terrifyingly white. No way, is he actually dead? He thought, but he saw a fist clenching the snow underneath his face pressed against the ground. Mud soaked into his white taping and stained it brown.

He couldn’t leave him here and go home.

“Even if you say go home, you won’t let me ride double anyways. I’ll send him home, okay?”

“Well, whatever.”

Yorimichi backed down easily with just a shrug of his shoulders. The sneering had already disappeared and he returned to his normal self.

“Don’t forget. Wash your hands of him as soon as possible. From his reaction, it doesn’t seem like those are groundless rumors. Be careful on your way home. I’m talking about the snowy roads and your teammate next to you.”

Perhaps Yorimichi also felt that he went a bit too far. He awkwardly turned his face away, made his engine roar its usual crude and vulgar sounds, and departed on the Komashi-gou.

***

“Mei from zayuu no mei and makoto, Meisei. (4) It’s called Meisei Private Academy Middle School. It’s a middle and high school in one, and their sports clubs are pretty strong. Apparently the distribution map of famous private schools is common knowledge among Kanto kids. You can’t really experience it here, can you? There aren’t enough schools to choose from. Hey, everyone’s gonna hang out in the city after the end-of term ceremony, so do you wanna come with us? I wonder if Haijima would come if we invited him. You guys have been getting along well lately.”

“Um, oh, yeah. If that’s all I can ask then I’m good for now. Thanks.”

He hung up first because it seemed like the conversation would never end if he left it alone.

Itoko said “Everyone”, so the group probably included girls. To tell the truth, he was really jealous of this merry spring break-like event. Normally he wouldn’t be able to refuse. But, it was only today that he couldn’t get into the mood at all. He was willing to bet that Haijima would never come either.

He put the phone handset next to the desk and turned towards the computer again. Since he had an agreement to not own a cell phone until high school, the only place he could access the Internet at home was the laptop in his dad’s study. When he tried to convert Meisei-chuu (5), he realized he didn’t know the kanji for it, and since Yorimichi said he learned it by way of Itoko, he called to ask her directly. Based on the current feeling, Yorimichi had really only gotten the school name, and it seemed he didn’t tell Itoko more than that. He felt relieved about that.

A school with a strong athletic department. If this school was that famous, then it might not be strange for there to be a rumor or two to float around the Internet. After all, there was even a message board titled “[Monshiro Town] Old Man Kuroba [Yokai]”—Yorimichi thought it was hilarious and told him about it, but Kuroba never searched for it because he was scared of learning the contents.

“Tokyo meisei academy middle school boys volleyball club attempted suicide”

He entered the search words, and just when he was about to click the search button, his finger stopped. He couldn’t easily press the key. Of course he was unbearably curious. But, he was afraid to find out the contents for that more than Grandpa’s message board.

“Yuni? Where are you?”

His mother’s voice came from somewhere on the other side of the sliding screen door. He twisted himself around on the tatami chair and raised his voice.

“In here! The study!”

“Why are you there? Aren’t you going to take a bath?”

“Okay!”

After thinking about it a little bit, he ended up pressing the backspace key to delete everything he typed in. Once he did so, he completely gave up, closed the computer and stood up.

Previous || Index || Next

#2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu #2.43 book 1 #2.43 translation

19 notes · View notes

the-deeds-to-shibden · 3 years

Text

Friday 13 September 1839

[Today Anne and Ann leave Helsinki and cover a lot of the distance to Viborg and the Russian border. On the way they see a series of picturesque towns and villages, and admire the pretty countryside. They are struck by the sight of a woman astride a horse, not riding sidesaddle; the locals cannot seem to be able to decide how to write the word “verst”; and it’s puzzling how one could get no turnips in Sweden for love or money but Finland is apparently awash with them. While Ann sketches, Anne ruefully admits she’s getting nowhere with the Russian alphabet and needs someone to teach her. Finally, Anne discovers - and is amazed by - a sauna!]

[up at] 3 40/”

[to bed at] 10

ten minutes with Ann very fine morning – Fahrenheit 64º at 4 20/” – waited for horses – inked over 2/3 last page – off at 5 35/” sun rising in our eyes as we get out of the city – at Henrisdals at 6 51/” little lone place – see no house at all – nothing but little stabling – nice drive from Helsingfors – we had fjord a long way – but very little wood – met an infinity of carts loaded with deals, timber long but the largest smallish beams, hay, moss and spruce branches for strewing the floors – the approach to the capital prettier from Henrisdals than from Grahn?

at Sobbo – small house no fire in the kitchen or should have had boiled milk – went in – a goodish room but not good to sleep at – the little unpainted village at a little distance a few little cottages clustered together – pretty good road from Helsingfors – 2nd stage sandy – this 3rd stage forest and good road (no bad pitches since Helsingfors) – to Wackosky at 9 26/” Breakfast our own bread and butter but large tureen of boiled milk and clean table cloth for 25 kopeks –

till Borgå 12 ½

St. Petersburg 369 ½

one night sleep well enough – lone house – a farm or 2 and its appurtenances scattered about a little distance – pretty river winding along the valley from here – pretty foresty rather more hilly road – a little pitch or 2 – good road pretty drive to Borgå to the picturesque goodish wood town beautifully situated on our river* from Wäckosky – Borgå at 11 23/” – good red (wood) town house in little square – very tolerable pavé – as good as at Stockholm without the deep channels – At the station in the town at 11 27/” considerable town – Beggar (not importunate old man) at the carriage door 1st time in Finland and almost since landing at Helsingborg

Till Illby 10 w[erst]

St. Petersburg 357 w[erst]

– good church – belfrey tower separate – both partly stone plastered and white washed and partly red wood – and both partly covered with shingle and partly with copper – rocky-foresty good (rather sandy) road from here – prevailing colours at Borgå red and yellow roofs red or dark slate-colour – did not observe one green roof – Senate house at Helsingfors yellow and pea green roof and several other such roofs, on yellowish white and dark red buildings – perhaps the ancient green sod roofs gave them a taste for green roofs – In returning from Sweaborg, the eye rested agreeably on the green roofs – they seemed like patches of light green sward among the glaring white – this effect, too in looking on them from our high window – the cupola of the church dome is dark blue with gold stars – the church a yellowish white wash over the plaster – very pretty forest and break from Bordå – sunny and fine – red moss – a woman riding astride between Wäckosky and Bordå passed some soldiers (a company) and baggage waggons just out of Bordå – at 12 35/” Illby – rye out in stook – little red station

Borgå stad 10

Forsby 13 verst –

Hofvardböhle 11 1/4 virst

the country about Illby very pretty – dotted over with cottages or barns – Illby little red lone station house – the little unpainted village at a little distance – 11 or 12 carts here in a row without horses as if some sort of meeting? pretty rounded hills, green rice grass, or corn 1/2 way up the hill, and the top wooded – a boy or 2 begging and a man but all looking decent considering the country and not very importunate – our young man this time a good looking Fin

1 5/” just in the carriage again – detained 10 minutes and the horses restive up the hill – obliged to get out again at another steep pitch a few minutes afterwards – very nice farming this stage and small enclosures – saw a strawberry plant in flower and gathered a cranberry in flower very pretty little pink flower everywhere potato stalks hung to dry on 4 and 5 and 6 tiers of rails – cottages and barns dotted singly and in patches all over now at 1 50/” – lake in sight in the distance before us – again obliged to get out for a few minutes till 2 5/” – snow plough the 2nd I have observed in Finland now at 2 10/” – cross wood bridge over broad shallow stream into the good little very picturesque village of Forsby the little red station standing at the bottom of the hill and end of the village just below the neat little (wood) red church – very pretty picturesque drive from Illby here hilly – rocky – foresty – well cultivated fields – farms and cottages – good road but pitchy – forest hilly and heavy sandy road to Perny at 3 20/” very neat red station house and its numerous appurtenances and good picturesque white-washed church close by and curious picturesque belfry at some distance from the church on the opposite side of the road – fine large beautifully beautifully wooded lake stretching as far as can see (right) a few

| till Lovisa 12 verst

verst and virst and werst Perno on the roadpost Pärno on the signpost |

good cottages and farm houses scattered at a little distance – very pretty and picturesque – mossy rock and forest again soon after the village – and our horses stop a little at the steep pitch soon after starting

at 4 16/” 3 story high large white washed gentleman’s house (right) little distance – forest and sandyish road almost all the way – this time Handbook is right as to the road – we have wound our way amid rocks and big boulders – At Louvisa at the station at 4 40/” – meant to have slept here but think we can push on 16 versts more to Aberfors – Lovisa large good picturesque town – much larger and much better than Borgå – our passport must be visé by the Burgomaster – send it by the Station man and Gross with him – and we wrote dans ces entrefaites in the carriage close to the large good board red-covered church** with white window frames, and red-boarded roof – the stone-foundation part of church plastered and white washed – at a little distance the belfry – painted grey-white with bright green cupola roof – the town beautifully situated on the fine lake-island and buildings seen upon it as we cross the bridge out of the town no green roofs but sod-green – very picturesque and bright (real sods) in a low street we peeped down – herd of many cows chiefly red just out of the town – young forest again thin showing the large boulders that thickly cover the ground all but the bits cleared for corn and cultivation – everywhere chiefly Scotch fir – and occasionally birch and alder beautiful evening – good road – no detention about the passport save the time occupied in taking it to the burgomaster

off at 5 – lovely evening – but it begins to be coldish late and early in the day – 5 40/” enormous boulders – this by far our most interesting stage for rock and boulder – the last interesting in this respect but never so much so as this stage – all Scotch fir and birch – good for burning – several cottages – huts – no chimneys – the doorways black with smoke no large trees anywhere – trying today my Russian letters can do nothing without a master – all this stage forest and pretty breaks with green rye and rye in stook – and huts (unpainted) and green corn and grass pasture among the boulders – very picturesque and now at 5 50/” one large good brick barn I think the 1st and only one I have seen in Finland

little inclosures – fenced as in Sweden – another snow plough – juniper and cranberry here in the rocks and hills woods as in Sweden and Norway Lovisa pronounced almost Louisa – odd we could not get turnips in Sweden but got them good at Helsingfors without asking for – At 6 10/” a few spruces and a very few of them goodish trees – at 6 20/” little unpainted hamlet and a fjord among the wood – all the waters of today inlets of the sea – at 5 27/” cross wood bridge over water ascend and at the station at 6 28/” single house – on this side the bridge begins Wiborg land and here 161 versts from Wiborg – good warm room – the forest, rock, water-bridge – pretty scene – but we have seen many places as pretty – ‘the red cottages of the Fins’ that Handbook speaks of page 137. manquant – we left the little unpainted hamlet 7 minutes from here; and as for its position being ‘one of the most picturesque’ Handbook had ever seen, one can only think he has not been much favoured in the picturesque positions of his villages –

Aborfors Helsingfors 120 ½ v[erst]

Lovisa 10 w[erst] Wiborg 161

Broby 16. St. Petersburg 297 1/2

Ann and I sauntered out till 7 1/4 and she sketched the house – went down to the water and bridge again – very pretty – 2 or 3 unpainted cottages or barns must represent the red cottages – one of the without chimney door and window way smoked buildings which I have noticed after a little way from our station – went into like an oven to roast ore – had John – it is a finnish vapour bath! dinner now at at 7 3/4 to 8 1/2 the Fins do not bathe in water – but in vapour – a little like the Russian vapour bath? – very fine day – Fahrenheit 62º at 8 1/2 p.m.

Anne’s marginal notes:

1st beggar

coloured buildings

page 58

Lovisa.

church red

with white windows

enormous boulders

Finnish baths

page 59

turnips

Aborrfors

Finnish vapour bath

Note:

*Anne is mistaken here - they are actually two different rivers.

**Unfortunately this church was destroyed in a fire in 1855.

Swedish till = to; stad = town

French manquant = are absent; dans ces entrefaites = meanwhile

WYAS pages: SH:7/ML/TR/13/0033 SH:7/ML/TR/13/0034 SH:7/ML/TR/13/0035

Häme customs post, Helsinki (1837) by Magnus von Wright. Anne and Ann would have passed through here on their way out of the city two years later.

A view of Borgå (Porvoo) from Finland in the Nineteenth Century by Finnish authors. Illustrated by Finnish artists, by Leopold Henrik Stanislaus Mechelin; the cathedral and its separate bell-tower are visible in the background:

The Borgå (Porvoo) town hall:

A view of the harbour of Loviisa, By Gavrilo Sergeyevich Sergeyev (1808):

An 18th-century view of the station house at Abborrfors (Ahvenkoski) and the environs, where the Ann(e)s sauntered in the evening and Ann sketched (image source):

The house that Ann sketched also appears on a Finnish postage stamp!

A sauna like the one Anne saw (image source):

#anne lister #ann walker #gentleman jack #anne lister code breaker #travelnotes1839 #finland1839 #russianempire1839 #annelister #annwalker

8 notes · View notes

thevelvetseries · 4 years

Text

Count On Christmas

Summary : Casey had a child while he was still in high school, with his high school sweetheart.Casey has looked after Y/N since the day she was born. What happens when the mother of his child comes back to town and what’s in the picture.

Pairing : Matt Casey x Daughter!Reader

Warnings : Fluff, Angst

Main Masterlist

Y/N POV

I had just finished school and was on the way to the firehouse to have dinner with my dad and the rest of the house. I was going to be cooking dinner tonight since it was Cruz’s night to cook, and let’s just say he can’t. I walk up to the firehouse and I can see all the trucks and the ambo. Everyone was here. I on to the apparatus floor and see squad at the squad table. I walk up to Kelly and give him a kiss on the cheek and take a seat next to him. I’ve know Kelly for most of my life now. Him and my dad have been good friends since they met during the fire academy. He was like an uncle to me.

“So I saw Matt bring in some grocery bags this morning. What you cooking, since we all Kdw Cruz won’t be” Kelly says while a cheeky smile.

I give him a little laugh “Yes I am cooking. Spaghetti and meatballs.” I say while getting up from my chair and saying goodbye so I could head into the kitchen and start prep for dinner.

When I enter the house I see dad sitting at the table reading the newspaper and drinking some coffee. I walk over to him and give him a hug from behind.

“Hey kiddo.” He says while putting the paper down.

“Hey” I say while putting my bag on the chair and headed into the kitchen to started to prepare dinner.

Time skip – 1 week later.

I make my way into the firehouse with the poster and leaflet in my hands. I was nervous, over the past year I’ve been doing music classes at school and been doing after school activities with the music and drama classes. In 2 weeks my school is having a christmas music night, and I got a place to preform. I’m nervous, I’ve never done anything like this. I’ve never sang in front of anyone ever, I’m not even sure anyone other than school know that I like to sing.

When I enter the firehouse I see that the trucks and the ambo are gone, so I slowly walk into the firehouse and head over to Connie’s desk and ask her for a couple thumbtacks. I head to the kitchen and put up the poster for the music night and head to my dads office to put the leaflet on his desk. I had some homework to do, so I take off my shoes get under the covers and get out my work books and start working on my chemistry homework.

After about an hour I can hear voices and movement coming from the firehouse, everyone must be back. I pack up my things and make my way to the kitchen.

“Hey kiddo” dad said when he saw me.

“How long have you been here?” He asked while sitting down.

“Not long. Just and hour or so.” I say while walking to get myself some water.

“So, what’s this christmas music night thing?” Stella asks.

“Oh. Yeah, there doing is music night at my school in couple of weeks to help raise money for our local first responders. All the money that will be made from that night will be spilt up into equal amounts and given to the charities for each. Like the CFD, CPD and many more.” I say while opening my water bottle and drinking it.

“Well, that’s very nice of them” Boden says with a smile.

“Yeah, I guess. They’ve been doing since I joined the school even beforehand. But each year or event it’s for different charities. Last time it was for the local animal rescue.” I say. “You guys don’t need to come but there is a donation box at the school and since I’m helping out that night I was wondering if we could help a little.” I say with a cheeky smile.

“Sure” Boden says.

I didn’t want to let them know I was going to be preforming. I was nervous as it is. I didn’t need the extra pressure of knowing my family was going to be there. So I didn’t say a word.

Time skip – 2 weeks later. Music night.

Tonight the night. I’m about to head out on stage to sing for everybody. I was waiting for the person before to finish preforming before it was my turn. I suddenly come out of my daze when I head everyone clapping and the music had stopped. I slowly make my way on to the stage and since the lights were so bright I couldn’t see anybody pass the front row. That’s when the music starts.

Count On Christmas

There's something stirring Something crackling like the firewood A certain spirit that has lightened up the neighbourhood I think it's time for the timeless time of the year Time of the year

You're bundled up Got a blizzard coming on the way The family fighting like they do 'Cause it's the holidays And every memory you're holding in your heart is alive once more, right here

Feels like you're a kid again Making you remember when life was good Just watching the snow fall down

Doesn't matter if the year's got you feeling down Just remember in December what is coming 'round And you'll find the feeling that you always found You can count on Christmas, count on Christmas

Coming back home to the home address Something burning in the kitchen with the house a mess And this year is promising nothing less You can count on Christmas, count on Christmas

Yeah, yeah, yeah, woah Yeah, yeah, yeah, woah Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Count on Christmas, count on Christmas

We got a Christmas song Sing-a-long around the tree Hit the eggnog flow until we all tipsy There's another movie marathon on TV Which one could it be?

But with all of the presents, all of the gifts It's really about who you're sharing them with And just for Christmas Eve The world's the way it used to be

Doesn't matter if the year's got you feeling down Just remember in December what is coming 'round And you'll find the feeling that you always found You can count on Christmas, count on Christmas

Coming back home to the home address Something burning in the kitchen with the house a mess And this year is promising nothing less You can count on Christmas, count on Christmas

Yeah, yeah, yeah, woah Yeah, yeah, yeah, woah Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Count on Christmas, count on Christmas

Doesn't matter if the year's got you feeling down Just remember in December what is coming 'round And you'll find the feeling that you always found You can count on Christmas, count on Christmas

Yeah, yeah, yeah, woah Yeah, yeah, yeah, woah Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah You can count on Christmas, count on Christmas

Once I finished singing, I let out my breath. I did it. Everyone was clapping and I was relieved. I headed back stage and waited for the rest of the night to finish. Once everyone was done I made my way into the hall and I spotted my dad and the rest of the firehouse. I was confused. I didn’t think they would be here they didn’t even know I was preforming. I slowly make my way over to them.

My dad wraps me into his arms “You did amazing kiddo. Why didn’t you tell any of us you were preforming.” He says

“I didn’t want anybody to know. I was already nervous as it was. I didn’t need more pressure.” I say.

“I’m so proud of you baby. You are my talented baby.”

I laugh and we all head outside and headed home. When me and dad got home we order some nice takeaway and just spent the rest of the night watching movies and relaxing.

#chicago fire #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire fanfiction #matt casey #matt casey x reader #matt casey x daughter!reader

189 notes · View notes

bubble-tea-bunny · 5 years

Text

a painted lady

[carol danvers x reader]

author’s note: i started watching iasip and it’s so funnyyy i love it so much. anyway, here’s something short and sweet for my girl carol. hope you enjoy <3

word count: 2,737

Spring announces its arrival with the melting of the snow and the crisp mornings which give way to a sunny afternoon and a gentle breeze not nearly as harsh as the winter gusts that makes cheeks flush and stings the sensitive skin. Warmer weather begins popping up on the forecast. The days grow longer. The flowers bloom. There are many telltale signs to the changing of the season, but this year, they’re joined by a rare spectacle that has become the main topic for news stations and strangers making small talk in the coffee shops or at bus stops.

Channel 2 is on mute, but Carol hasn’t bothered un-muting it or even looking at the screen, since the view outside the bedroom window is exactly the same. Butterflies flutter past the glass in great numbers, taking their time with the plants on the front lawn. The neighbors’ houses aren’t bound to be any different, nor would anywhere else in town really. Seeing butterflies isn’t out of the ordinary when spring is approaching, but what is out of the ordinary is just how many there are. They’re everywhere.

Carol catches the sight of orange wings with black bands on them, and speculates aloud. “Monarchs?” To an outside observer, it might appear as though she’s asking this to thin air.

“No. Painted ladies,” you respond from the ensuite bathroom. After you’ve combed the tangles out of your hair, you set the brush down and walk back into the bedroom. “A little smaller than monarchs.”

Carol hums in acknowledgment, and takes a few more seconds to study the bright swarm before she lets her hand drop and the curtain shifts back into place. She turns around and grins when she sees you across the room putting on your watch. You’re wearing your usual lip color today: a bold red shade that brings out your eyes. “You’re a painted lady.”

That color hadn’t always been a staple in your makeup routine, and Carol has the sneaking suspicion it had found its way there after she had mentioned how much she liked it on you the first time she saw you in it. You’d been so unsure of it then, but she genuinely liked it. While she had told you as much, she’s sure you also could tell by the sincerity in her voice and the earnestness on her face. Not that it’d be difficult for you pick up on what she is thinking. You read people like books and she’s your favorite novel, one you know from front cover to back.

Even at this distance, you notice her gaze lowering to your lips and you roll your eyes but you’re smiling too. “I guess I am.”

Carol had closed the gap between you as you made your comment, and she leans in close. You’re about to take a step back and tell her At least give it a minute! but it’s too late. She steals a kiss and laughs at your expression of playful incredulity.

“It hasn’t even dried down!�� You reach up to wipe the bit of lipstick that had transferred to her mouth, then grab the compact on the dresser to check if you would have to re-apply any on yourself.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

“That’s what you say every day.”

“Well, it’s true.” She shrugs matter-of-factly.

And you can never even fake being irritated for too long. Once you’ve confirmed that your lipstick is finally completely dry and transfer-proof, you kiss her. This one lasts a little longer, and she meets you with equal enthusiasm. She smells the lavender perfume you wear—every morning, two small spritz, in the soft spots behind your ears. By now, she has your routine memorized, but that’s no surprise because you’re her favorite book too.

The butterflies are immortalized in a small piece you create for your art class. You wave it off as nothing special, but just as with every other instance Carol has had the opportunity to see your finished art sitting on the easel, oils still setting and your familiar signature with its trademark loops and elaborate flourishes (“My signature is not that fancy!”) tucked away in a corner, she shakes her head and says, “It’s amazing.”

You stand side by side, surveying the canvas like you’re in a museum studying a painting on the wall. You’re mulling it over, considering her compliment and staring at the butterflies and she’s right, you think. It’s not so bad at all. You can’t help smiling because of how supportive she is, has been, and would continue to be, for it’s in her nature to pick you up when you’re down, and a warmth bubbles in your chest.

“Thanks.”

Carol’s watched your artistic endeavors from the sidelines, which she has been happy to do. She doesn’t have much to complain about when she has the front row. As such, when you come home one day and ask if she’d help you with your newest project, her brows raise at the unexpected request.

“I don’t know how much help I can be, but sure. What is it?”

“I need a model.”

Her eyes light up and her grin is big. “How should I pose? Maybe something dramatic?” She rests her wait on one foot and juts out her hip, setting her hand on it and angling her head slightly downward so as to look up at you in mock seduction. “Or maybe something fancier?” She stands back up straight and reaches over to grab an apple from the fruit bowl, then holds it up as if scrutinizing it closely, her other arm folded neatly behind her back.

You laugh at the various poses she strikes, and she breaks character quickly, laughing as well. “No, nothing like that, although that would be pretty fun.” You take a deep breath as you calm down. “I’ll have to get back to you on pose ideas. I’m not really sure what mood I’m trying to go for here. The prompt was really vague.”

“But that’s good right? More open avenues.” Carol sets the apple back down and leans back against the counter with crossed arms.

“It is, but it can be overwhelming too… The key is just to let the inspiration come to me. If I try too hard to come up with ideas, I might just get more frustrated than anything else…”

While waiting for this inspiration, you fill your time with sketches, thumbnail drawings of people in motion and positioned this way and that. You also draw Carol quite a bit. It’s your warmup for when you move onto the real piece, and if she hadn’t noticed whenever you stared before, she definitely does now, catching your eyes as you look up at her then back down at your sketchbook.

You draw her over and over again, pages of your sketchbook filled with her face at different angles and wearing various expressions. Even if the drawings are hasty, the care behind each is apparent. You ache to understand every detail, the natural sway of her hair as she turns her head whenever you call her name; the crinkle of the corners of her eyes when she flashes you a wide smile; the high points of her cheeks that catch the sunlight just right. And Carol peers over your shoulder at these pictures and she knows exactly what you are trying to do and she understands that you don’t just see with your eyes. You see with your hands.

One slow morning you’re doing it again, sketchbook in your lap and pencil in hand. Carol’s still laying down, drifting in and out, her body trying to cling to the last bits of sleep but she can’t tune out the scribbling and scrawling and the erasing. She’s not mad about it though; she probably shouldn’t be trying to sleep this late into the day anyway. So she rolls onto her side and props herself up on her elbow to look at you better—you’re sitting cross-legged facing her, which means she can’t see the page.

“How many times is this now?” she asks to break the silence.

You glance up at her but don’t answer immediately, your eyes tracing the line of her jaw, which you then replicate on the paper. “I dunno. Haven’t been keeping count. But I need to make sure I get everything… perfect…” You trail off, enamored with your task.

The fact is, you don’t draw many people. Portraits aren’t your forte, and that’s the main reason you’ve had to draw Carol as many times as you have before you take out your paints. Still, she can’t resist teasing. “You’ve never drawn me before this, have you?”

“No…” More scribbling.

“This isn’t quite playing out like those romance movies where the artist draws their partner all the time.” She tries to sound disappointed, but it falls apart the moment you look at her with a raised brow, and she cracks a grin.

“Since when have you wanted one of those storybook romances?” you shoot back, playing along.

“Hm…” She purses her lips pretends to be deep in thought. “Ever since you started drawing me I guess. I have to admit, it’s flattering, and you make me look good.”

You chuckle. “While by this point I’m confident I could draw you from memory, drawing from reference is always better.” You grow quiet again, presumably putting the finishing touches on your newest study, then set it off to the side as you turn your attention back to Carol. “And for the record, I only draw what I observe, so if anything, you make you look good, not me.”

Carol’s not one for bashfulness, but there’s something about your tone and how you look at her that prompts her to avert her gaze as she suddenly finds the white bedsheets very interesting. She only ever reacts like this to compliments when they come from you because you’re the artist and you can find the beauty in everything so when you say that you found it in her, well, that’s the highest honor, isn’t it?

Her eyes slide back up and you’re grinning because you know what your words can do to her. You want her to love herself like she loves you. Plus, you won’t lie: you like having this power. Shy Carol is a rare sight (and a sight, she would tell you, is reserved solely for you).

Deciding the space between you is too great, you crawl forward into Carol’s bubble to kiss her and she welcomes you because really, her bubble’s got enough space for two.

When you paint, you tie your hair into a bun and use paintbrushes to hold it in place. Carol won’t admit it but she really likes when you do that. You also change into clothes you don’t care about getting dirty, like a ragged and flimsy shirt with loose threads and a pair of sweatpants with holes. They’re well-used and paint-stained, much like the plastic storage cabinets in your art room.

The designated art room of the house is organized chaos, but there’s a certain charm to it. It’s the physical manifestation of all the ideas you have in your head, and Carol feels privileged that she’s able to take a peek into your mind via the drawings taped to the walls and the sketchbooks stacked on the desk. It’s the room with the largest windows and she’s not surprised you’d created more butterfly paintings since the first one; you can see them all the time.

She’s seeing them right now from the glass sliding door leading to the backyard. It’s dark out, but a few painted ladies remain exploring, not yet ready to turn in for the night. Her cup of coffee has been empty for a few minutes now, and her attention only shifts when she hears your footsteps padding through the hallway.

“You okay?”

It’s late and the darkness always seems to warrant lowered voices. Your enquiry is gentle and fatigued, and Carol turns to look at you rubbing your eyes, an attempt to fight off sleep but that’s a losing battle.

“Yeah,” she replies, speaking quietly in turn. You join her in staring outside. “There’s been so many of those butterflies.” While the painted ladies have been around for a few weeks now, she, as well as many others in town, still like to reiterate the peculiarity of the occasion. The subject hasn’t gotten old, and it might not anytime soon. It’s too special to gloss over that easily.

You hum and smile sightly, and Carol spots it in the reflection on the glass. Then you tell her you’re going to clean up and go to bed. You sound faraway, evidence of sleep finally taking over, and she grins as she nods okay. She kisses you quickly and says good night.

As for her, she lingers for a short while before following your lead, taking her time washing her mug and setting it on the drying rack where it would be ready for the next day. One of your sketchbooks is on the dining table, so she picks it up and walks to your art room to return it. The only light on in the house is that in the bedroom, visible through the crack at the bottom of the door, but she needs none to find her way to her destination.

The moonlight pouring in from the windows is enough to illuminate the canvas sitting on the easel. After Carol sets the sketchbook down with the others, she walks over to inspect your current work in progress. It’s not finished, but you’ve completed enough of it that she recognizes herself staring back, and she understands that you don’t make paintings; you make mirrors.

This is your final draft, she realizes. It’s the culmination of all your studies, in which you’ve enshrined the planes of her face on paper and on canvas and in your mind because your soul will live forever and you carry the thought of her like a rabbit’s foot tucked into your pocket.

One of your sketchbooks is open on the desk next to the easel, and she picks it up so she can see the page more clearly. It’s from the morning you’d drawn her while in bed, the picture she hadn’t seen at the time. This is the reference you’re using. She’d been wondering why you hadn’t yet gotten back to her about pose ideas, or announced that you’d be starting the final piece so she’d better clear her Saturday to be your model. She just assumed you wanted more time to practice and to settle upon the perfect pose for the mood you wanted.

And the perfect pose, it would seem, was no pose at all. Carol’s posture in the drawing and the painting is relaxed, half her body concealed by the bedsheets she’d struggled to untangle herself from that morning (they’d just been so comfortable). She’s propping herself up on her elbow and the hand of her other arm rests atop the blankets. Her eyes stare directly ahead, like she’s watching the viewer, and even she’s unable to deny the sense of intimacy this affords. It makes the viewer an active participant rather than a mere observer, which appears to be your goal—you want the viewer in your shoes. You want them to feel what you feel.

Carol’s eyes switch back and forth from the sketchbook to the canvas, comparing the details. The painting is still missing a date and signature, but they’re present in the drawing, at the bottom and off to the side so as to be non-invasive. There’s a title too, in quotation marks: My Favorite Place. Her chest blooms with warmth and her lips curve in a fond smile. You want the viewer to feel at home.

There’s a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach, an inexplicable mix of heaviness like there’s something there and an airiness like she’s about to sprout wings and lift off from the ground. Her heart wrenches hard enough she swears it might shatter—for you, always for you. She loves you with every bone in her body and perhaps the town’s influx of extraordinary visitors these last few weeks has been her doing because every time she thinks of you, she gets butterflies.

#captain marvel x reader #captain marvel imagine #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers imagine #captain marvel #carol danvers #marvel imagine #bubble-tea-bunny

111 notes · View notes

raptorginger · 5 years

Text

Snow Sparkles Like Stars: Chapter 4 - Sledding

I swear I post those teasers thinking it’ll be at least a day until I can post the chapter, but nope. Usually ends up meaning same day, lol

I had a hard time with this chapter. Life stuff. So, I hope it's okay. Fluffy winter chores and fun

chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3

Getting his car out of the ditch ended up being much easier than Kylo thought. Rey had told Kylo the basic commands for her dogs, so he was able to tell Thor and Sif what to do without them running off. As Rey worked on unburying her driveway in her nearly tractor sized snow blower, Thor and Sif plowed a small trail towards the car for Kylo to follow. Kylo quickly got his suitcase and leather messenger bag out of the trunk and followed the dogs back into the house. He changed into a fresh set of clothes, making sure to throw on his thickest socks and the heaviest sweater he’d brought. He went back outside, through the garage this time, and grabbed a shovel from a peg hanging on the wall. He paused to look at the dog sled. It was a handsome piece of woodwork, a six foot toboggan style sled made of white ash with rubber grips on the runners. There was a small seat for a passenger, and a mess of nylon cords and metal clips and hooks sat in the basket. Kylo hurried out to work on digging the car out while Rey finished the driveway.

No road crews had been by, and the road remained buried and invisible beneath the deep snow. Kylo still had no idea how he’d gotten this far off the highway. Rey’s home appeared relatively isolated. Kylo could see evidence of civilization way off in the distance, but otherwise it was mostly trees and open fields. He paused to admire the beauty of it. The huge swaths of undisturbed white, the grey-green of the tall pines, the loud rumble of the snow blower as it threw huge plumes of fluffy white were so different from the winter sights he was used to in Boston. Rey’s house too was something very different. It was indeed an A-frame design, almost a perfect isosceles triangle. Like the interior, the parts of the front exterior Kylo could see were a warm wood. The roof was covered with a generous heap of snow, broken only by the proud fieldstone chimney. Two ravens could be seen perched on the edge of the dark stone.

Kylo was studying the ravens intently and hadn’t realized Rey had finished until he felt her mittened hand on his shoulder.

“Kylo? You okay?” Rey asked concerned, her voice muffled by her thick scarf.

“Yeah,” he replied distractedly. He gave himself a shake. “Yeah. Just wondering if those were the same birds as this morning.”

Rey looked up at the chimney just as the two birds took off for parts unknown. “Hmm, I guess I never really thought about it. Now that you mention it, I wonder if you’re right. Two ravens always seem to visit every few days. Odin likes watching them, and they don’t really make a mess or anything, so I never thought about it too much. It could be the same pair.”

Kylo watched the birds get smaller and smaller against the bright sky. “Huginn and Muninn,” he murmured quietly.

“What?”

“Those are the names of Odin’s ravens in Norse mythology. They fly over all of Midgard and bring Odin news.”

Rey turned her eyes skyward and watched the ravens with Kylo. Soon enough, they were gone from sight, and the pair headed towards the garage.

“Help me push the sled out and next to the garage. Then we’ll hook your car up to the hitch of my truck and pull it out,” Rey commanded.

Kylo could see why she was a good dog trainer. Her voice was firm, but gentle and kind. He had a hard time imagining anyone saying no to it. He helped her push and maneuver the sled before heading to his car to wait for Rey. It took maybe twenty minutes, but with the car in neutral and Kylo pushing, they managed to get it out of the ditch and in the garage, safe and sound.

“I need to change into my mushing gear and hook the dogs up, then we can head out,” Rey said excitedly as she made her way back into the house. Kylo followed her, wanting to warm up a bit. Before she went off to change, Rey rummaged around in a bin and handed him a fleece hat, thick waterproof gloves, a scarf, and a pair of goggles.

“Sorry I don’t have a coat you can borrow,” Rey said apologetically.

“What’s wrong with this one?” Kylo asked, gesturing to his long black wool coat.

Rey smiled in an almost pitying way. “You’re going to be very cold by the time we get back,” Rey predicted. She sauntered away.

Not if you warm me up. He smirked devilishly at his own quip as he watched her go.

He waited in relative silence for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth of the laundry room and the hum of the heater. He was just starting to nod off when the sound of thirty-two paws hitting the hardwood floor erupted around him. Cold noses and furry bodies crashed into him within seconds, and Kylo found it hard to stay on his feet.

“Sit! Sit! Sit!” Rey shouted.

If Kylo had been drinking something, he might have done a spit take. Logically, he knew why she was wearing what she was. Winter outerwear tended to be bulky, made even more so if one wore normal clothes underneath, and bulk was typically not helpful in circumstances when one needed to be agile. However, the logical side of his mind was currently being shorted out at the sight of Rey clad in what looked like a scuba suit, but for winter. The thermal black leggings and top she was wearing clung to her slim form, her gentle curves on full display. She’d pulled her hair back into a high ponytail, and that combined with the high collar of her top accentuated the length and curve of her neck. Kylo bit down on his tongue, fighting the urge to bite down on something else.

Rey tugged on a pair of slim fitted snow pants, the style reminiscent of the kind snowboarders wore. Her boots went on next, then her coat. She slipped a headband over her ears and placed a pair of goggles around her neck. She shoved a pair of gloves into her pocket and turned to Kylo.

“Ready?” she asked, her face lit with excitement.

Kylo nodded, breathless. Rey threw open the door and the dogs raced out, bounding towards the sled and circling excitedly.

“Line out!” Rey called in her commanding voice. The dogs stilled and obeyed immediately, each one taking position. Odin was in front, Frigga and Thor directly behind. Mjolnir and Sif were directly in front of the sled with Loki and Freya in the middle. Heimdall sat patiently beside the sled basket. Kylo approached slowly, already in awe. Rey closed the door shut with a snap, a heavy looking Hudson Bay blanket in her arms, which she handed to Kylo.

“That’s for you,” she said with a smile.

“Heimdall doesn’t run?”

“He does sometimes, but not usually. Today he’s going to keep you company,” Rey replied as she worked to get the rigging set up.

“Do you need help?” Kylo offered.

Rey laughed, not unkindly. “Thank you, but no. Honestly it’ll be faster and safer if I do this myself. No offense.”

“None taken. Just thought I’d ask. That way I won’t feel guilty about not helping,” he teased.

Rey laughed brightly, making Kylo’s insides feel warm.

She had the dogs hooked up in a matter of minutes, and she went around to each one, tugging their harness and checking that their tug lines were secured to the tow line, explaining everything patiently to Kylo as she went along. He learned that Odin was the lead dog, Thor and Frigga were the swing dogs, Mjolnir (MewMew as Rey called him) and Sif were the wheel dogs, and Loki and Freya were team dogs. If Heimdall was acting as a team dog, Thor and Odin were leads. Rey tapped Heimdall twice between his shoulder blades, and he hopped deftly into the basket.

“You sit in the seat,” Rey said as she took her position on the runners.

Kylo climbed into the sled gingerly and sat as she had commanded, draping the heavy blanket over his lap. Heimdall sat down on Kylo’s feet, staring straight ahead. Kylo wondered if Heimdall had a kind of sight. He held onto the sides of the seat as Rey grasped the bar behind him, her hold wide. He felt her shift her weight from foot to foot, testing her balance. She took a deep breath and whispered, “Goggles.”

Kylo pulled down his goggles, looking back at Rey. Her expression was focused, and she took another deep breath.

“Mush!” she cried.

Kylo let out an involuntary yelp as he felt the sled take off. Rey laughed behind him and patted his shoulder reassuringly. He could still hear the jangle of the rigging over the wind in his ears, and his nose was filled with the scents of snow and winter. He watched in amazement as the seven dogs worked in unison, and it was clear there was an almost telepathic bond between them and Rey. It was exhilarating. Every so often, Rey would cry out “Gee!” or “Haw!” and the dogs would go right or left. She and the dogs seemed to know exactly where they were going, and she didn’t have to shout too much. They travelled for Kylo had no idea how long, mostly following the road, but not on it as it was in a sorry state. Eventually a pale yellow farmhouse came into view, surrounded by neat rows of different kinds of pine trees. Some were little saplings, some were large behemoths. Most were of a middling size for patrons to cut themselves. A nice selection was leaned up against a bit of fencing already cut and waiting. Several handmade wreaths were hung out as well. A small shack was set up near the tree baler where customers could pay and get a cup of cocoa if they wanted. Kylo could make out a couple of figures waving at them as Rey came up the drive to the shack.

“Whoa!” she called to the dogs as she applied increasing pressure to the break bar. They slowed to a complete halt, their tongues lolling out happily. Kylo didn’t realize dogs could smile.

“Hiya, Rey!” a cheerful male voice called.

“Hi, Finn! Hi, Rose!” Rey replied as she staked the sled. Strands of her hair had come loose during the ride, and her cheeks had been bitten bright red by the cold. All the dogs sat, ready and waiting. A young man and woman approached as Rey greeted them.

“Oooo can I give the dogs some bones?” the young woman asked. She was dressed snuggly, the ends of her dark hair flipping out of the bottom of her hat.

“Sure, Rose” Rey said. Rose ran quickly to the shed and dug around for something, emerging with a box of dog bones. She handed one to each dog, giving them all a pat on the head as she did so.

“Here to get your tree?” Finn asked, reaching for a handsaw.

“Yup!”

“Care to introduce us?” Rose asked teasingly as she stared up at Kylo. He smiled politely nodding to the both of them.

“Oh sure! This is Kylo. He got stranded at my house in the storm. He’s a professor at Harvard.”

Rose approached Rey and whispered something to her. Whatever it was made Rey blush an even deeper red and cough exaggeratedly. She nudged Rose with her elbow. Kylo saw Finn roll his eyes lovingly at the pair as he looked at Kylo.

“You guys gonna cut your own, or you want one of the ones we’ve already got here?” Finn asked Kylo.

“Umm, Rey?”

Rey was crouching with her dogs, petting each one gently and whispering quietly. She hadn’t heard him or Finn. Kylo felt a smile touch his lips as he watched her.

Finn stepped up next to Kylo. “Amazing, isn’t it? It never ceases to amaze me, watching Rey with her pack.”

“How long have you known her?”

“Since she moved here a few years back. Rose n’ me had just set up shop and ran into her in town. She’s...really something special.”

Kylo hummed in acknowledgment and agreement.

Finn eyed Kylo surreptitiously up and down. “You know, Rey’s favorite part about Christmas trees is the decorating. I’ve got a nice Douglas Fir already cut. Some guy wanted it, then never showed. She’ll probably have you hold it on the way back. After I bale it, I can wrap it in some canvas to make it easier for you.”

“Uhh, thanks. That’d be great. That okay with you, Rey?”

Rey looked up at him from her position in the snow next to Heimdall. “Huh?”

“Finn’s gonna get us a tree to go,” Kylo joked. Man, that was weak.

Rey laughed good naturedly anyway. “Sounds good. I want to get going again before the dogs settle in too much, anyway.”

Finn and Rose were already at the baler, setting the tree on the belt. There was a loud roar, and before Kylo knew it, the poofy tree looked like a closed umbrella wrapped in plastic twine. Finn tugged out a bit of brown canvas from the shack and wrapped the tree up, tying the giant tree umbrella with twine. Heaving the parcel against his shoulder, he slogged to the sled and waited for Kylo, Rey, and the dogs to get ready. Kylo reached into his pocket and pulled out a few tens and a twenty and handed them to Rose.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” Rey protested as Rose took the folded cash.

Kylo gave Rey a stern look. It was one he sometimes used on his students to prevent further argument. To his satisfaction, Rey’s cheeks grew a brighter shade of red, again, and her expression changed from one of protest to one of demure obeisance. Oh. Fuck, that’s hot. Not now, goddammit!

“Think of it as my way of saying thank you for helping me out,” Kylo said softly.

Rey bit her lower lip and nodded. She returned to the dogs, making sure everyone was hitched up properly.

Neither of them saw Finn and Rose waggle their eyebrows at each other as they hid their smirks behind their thick gloves.

#reylo #reylo fanfiction #fanfiction #my fic #rey #ben solo/kylo ren #rey x kylo ren #modern au #reylo au #winter #snowbound #reylo christmas

16 notes · View notes

atc74 · 6 years

Text

You Were The First - Two

Summary: Dean Winchester completed basic training in March 1941 and was offered an opportunity he can’t turn down, to fly with the Allied Forces and England’s Royal Air Force. It will provide a better future for him and his bride-to-be, but what he doesn’t know is it will change the lives of everyone around him.(This is loosely based on Pearl Harbor).

Square Filled: none for this chapter

Written for: na

Characters: Dean Winchester, Y/N Bennett

Warnings: Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 2048

A/N: Thank you so much to @crispychrissy for her patience and guidance, and exceptional listening/reading skills. This probably would not have happened without her. An Anon sent me a request that I will also fulfill later in the series for an Eagles song. Guys, it has been a really long time since I was this excited about a series! I hope you like it!

YWTF Masterlist

~Chapter 2~

Dean had waited not so patiently, checking his watch every few minutes. Thirty minutes later, Y/N descended the staircase. Dean’s breath caught his throat at the sight of her. She was as beautiful as ever. He had known this beautiful creature most of his life and there was not a day that went by when he was not captivated by the sight of her. Her gray patterned dress fit her like it was custom made.

“Y/N,” Dean breathed out, “you are stunning.”

“Thank you, Dean. Seeing you all dressed up, looking so dashing in this suit, I couldn’t put on any old thing,” she laughed for the first time since he had told her he was leaving and to him it was the best sound in the world. Hearing it again brought a smile to his lips.

“Doll, you’d look breathtaking in a paper sack,” Dean remarked. “We have a lot of places to go today. We better get a move on.”

~*~

Dean parked outside of the primary school. It was mid morning and classes were being held inside the red brick walls. He stepped out of the car and walked around to open the door for Y/N. He held out his arm for her and she slipped a gloved hand into the crook of his elbow. They walked for a few feet before Dean stopped her and pointed to area inside the school yard where the old steel swing set still stood, like it had for more than two decades.

“You see that swing, right in the middle?” Dean asked her.

“Yes, I see it. Dean, what are we doing here?” she looked up at him as he stood beside her, holding tight to her hand on his arm.

“The first time I saw you, you were swinging on that very swing. You wore a dress, the color of the sky that day. I may have only been five years old, but I knew that day, you were going to be very special to me, Y/N,” Dean reminded her.

“I remember that day. It was the first day of kindergarten. Billy Smith tried to pull me off the swing and you told him to leave me alone or you were going to give him a fat lip,” she recalled, a smile on her red lips.

“I sure did. No one messes with my girl,” he said. “Now, let’s get back to it, shall we?”

“Dean, are you going to tell me what we are doing?” she stopped him, locking her y/e/c eyes on his green ones.

“No, not yet. It’s a surprise, Doll,” Dean winked and ledher back to the car to continue on to the next stop.

“Dean, it’s March, the beach isn’t open,” Y/N scoffed when he pulled up in front of the public beach at Clinton Lake. They sat and looked out over the thawing ice on the lake before Dean spoke.

“Do you remember the summer you turned thirteen?” Dean probed her.

“Yes…” she replied, confusion pulling at her pretty features.

“I remember your mother and father brought you to the beach for your birthday. Man, it was a hot that day!” Dean laughed. “Your mother made a picnic lunch and invited me to have a sandwich, but I was playing in the water with Sammy, so I politely declined. You finished your lunch and ran full steam into the water. You started swimming out to the platform, but about halfway, you stopped and yelled for help. I looked up when I heard your screams. I told Sammy to stay in the sand and took off towards you.

“By the time I swam out to you, you were starting to go under. My heart was pounding in my chest. I took a deep breath and went down looking for you. Your eyes were open and I looked into them and reached out for you, grabbing your hand in mine. I pulled you above water, put you on my back and swam to shore. You were sputtering water and my heart wouldn’t quit beating in my ears. I was so scared that I was going to lose you.”

“You saved my life that day, Dean,” Y/N looked over at him.

“I am pretty sure you saved mine that day, too, Y/N. That was the day I realized I was in love with you. I didn’t know it then, but looking back on it, I think I fell in love with you on the playground,” Dean laughed and pulled her hand into his, lightly kissing her knuckles.

“Oh, Dean,” she replied wistfully.

“Don’t think I don’t know that I really buggered this one up. I still have a few things to show you; come on,” Dean reversed the car and headed back into town and pulled over across from the high school.

“Inside those walls, I asked you to go to the homecoming dance with me when we were fourteen. Inside those walls I asked you to go to Winter Formal. Inside those walls, I asked you to go to Senior Prom. Inside those walls I asked you to go to a hundred dances with me. And you said yes every time,” Dean didn’t linger this time, but drove onto his next destination. Y/N was speechless.

There was no denying the fact that she and Dean had a history. A very long history that started in Kindergarten and spanned the past sixteen years. Y/N looked lovingly at the man next to her. She knew he regretted his decision in waiting to tell her about his plans to depart for Europe this week. She also knew without a doubt that she loved this man with her whole heart and soul and always would, no matter what. She held his hand in hers as they drove through town. Finally the car stopped once more, this time in front of the soda shop.

“Inside this small soda shop, over a chocolate milkshake and a slice of apple pie, I asked you to go steady with me; to be my girl. We were fifteen years old and it was ten years after our story started. You’d been my best friend for a decade and I knew you were it for me,” Dean leaned across the seat and kissed her chastely on the lips. “Let me take you to lunch.”

Y/N and Dean enjoyed a quiet lunch at their favorite place. It wasn’t fancy, but it was theirs. Over burgers and milkshakes, they reminisced about their first decade together; summers spent at the beach, winters waiting for snow. Y/N grew quiet as they shared a slice of pie.

“What’s on your mind, Dollface?” Dean knew she was deep in thought by the way she chewed on her lower lip, worrying in between her teeth.

“What time do you have to leave tomorrow?” she asked, tears welling up in her pretty eyes.

“Let’s not talk about that; not right now. Our day isn’t over, so we don’t have to think about tomorrow,” Dean pointed out. “Come on, we have a couple more stops to make.”

“Dean, what are we doing here?” she was just as confused as she was this morning when they started off.

“Inside these white walls with it’s glass panes and wood floors, is where I told you I loved you for the first time. This is your home, where you grew into the most amazing woman I have ever known. The woman that I love. I asked your father for your hand in marriage inside this house. Inside these four walls is where I vowed to love you for the rest of my life and asked you to marry me,” Dean sniffled and Y/N noticed the tears welling in his eyes.

“Dean I have loved you forever. I will love you forever. I am sorry that I acted like a spoiled brat yesterday,” she whispered and slid across the seat to pull him into her arms, providing the comfort they both desperately needed.

“Okay, enough of me sapping out,” Dean released his hold on her and pulled himself together.

“Dean, you can be yourself with me. I have never and will never judge you,” she vowed.

“I know, but not yet. I have more to show you,” Dean cleared his throat and pulled back out onto the street.

He stopped in front of St. John The Evangelist Catholic Church. Dean made his way out of his seat and around the car. He opened Y/N’s door for her and hand in hand they walked through the front doors of the church.

They knelt together in front of the prayers candles. Lighting one candle each, they both said a silent prayer. Dean prayed for his grandparents who had passed on before Dean had been born. Y/N repeated the same prayer that had she had said several times in the last twenty-four hours. She prayed for Dean. Once they had finished their prayers, they stood and Dean walked them to the front row of the empty church.

Taking a seat, he pulled her down to sit next to him. “In five months, I am going to stand up there,” he pointed to the right side of the altar, “with my brother by my side. I am going to stare at those doors until they open and you walk through them. Then I am going to marry you and you are going to make me the happiest man alive. Right here is where we are going to start our brand new life together. In five short months you’ll go from being Y/N Bennett to Y/N Winchester. I like the sound of that.”

Y/N had heard Dean talk a lot throughout their sixteen years together. But she had never heard Dean talk like this. She knew he loved her, but he was never this open with his emotions. She felt the tears as they escaped her eyes and flowed openly down her pink cheeks.

“Y/N, please don’t cry,” Dean pleaded with her.

“What else am I supposed to do, Dean? In the past twenty four hours, I have experienced almost every emotion I have ever felt; pain, betrayal, sadness, love, anger, adoration. I cried myself to sleep last night because I know you are leaving tomorrow and I may never see you again. Then you show up at my house this morning and you drive me down memory lane, quite literally. I have never been so in love with you as I am right now. Part of me is still sad, and upset. But, I know, in my heart, that you love me just as much as I love you,” she blurted out before taking a deep breath. “The next few months are going to be the roughest of my life. I am going to miss you so much. But I will push forward with planning our wedding and before we know it, you will be home.”

They embraced there in the front pew of the church where they will marry, each of them silently praying to God for his safe return.

~*~

“It’s only a couple months, Sammy,” Dean looked at his brother. Dean had just pulled up outside of Fort Riley, Sam beside him.

“I know, but it just isn’t going to be the same without you here,” Sam replied, his voice laden with sadness.

“I need you to concentrate on school and keep your nose clean, kid,” Dean told his little brother. “And stop by to see Y/N once a week. Maybe take her for a milkshake; she loves those. And don’t forget to write.”

“I will Dean and I won’t forget to write,” Sam sniffed a little from the passenger seat. Dean smacked him on the chest, then got out of the car. He grabbed his pack from the trunk when Sam met him at the back of the car.

The brothers embraced, both holding tightly. “Take care of my girl, Sammy.”

“I promise, Dean,” Sam vowed as they released each other. Sam watched his brother walk through the front gates of Fort Riley, a silent prayer on his lips as his brother disappeared from view.

I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Forever Tags: @iwantthedean @d-s-winchester @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @just-another-busy-fangirl @mamaredd123 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @tankcupcakes @katymacsupernatural @winchesterprincessbride @chelsea072498 @meeshw777 @tmccarney @ruprecht0420 @theoriginalvicki @nanie5 @docharleythegeekqueen @megansescape @notnaturalanahi @impalaimagining @mrswhozeewhatsis @blacktithe7 @emoryhemsworth @bringmesomepie56 @devilgirlsarah @spnbaby-67 @myoutletforfanfiction @deansangelgirl @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel @kayteonline @rockhoochie @percussiongirl2017 @fanfreak07 @sandlee44 @moonstar86 @squirrel-moose-winchester @growningupgeek @charliebradbury1104 @evansrogerskitten @feelmyroarrrr @itseverythingilike @smoothdogsgirl @supernatural-jackles @ryantherandomhero @love-kittykat21 @kathaswings @crispychrissy @paintrider13-blog @bethbabybaby @ravenangel33 @shaelyn102 @roxyspearing @nosleeptillbucky @x-waywardaf-x

Dean Tags: @whimsicalrobots @akshi8278 @iamabeautifulperson18 @suzannebeaketa @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @deandoesthingstome @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @boxywrites @sparklesuperwholock88 @ericaprice2008 @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels

YWTF Tags CLOSED: @luci-in-trenchcoats @hexparker @meganwinchester1999 @bitchy-tacos @ultimatecin73 @neveah-potter15 @housav @thereisnolumos @frickfracklesackles

#You Were The First #YWTF #Soldier!Dean #Dean x Reader AU #Dean Winchester x Reader AU #Dean Winchester AU #Supernatural AU

80 notes · View notes

andonewillbringhisfall · 6 years

Text

Day 18. Stuck in a room together

For anyone who hasn’t read the previous chapters: instead of writing oneshots for Carry On Countdown this year, I’m writing an ongoing chaptered fic, where I incorporate as many of the prompts as I can into a single fic. There won’t be regular updates; I’ll just be posting whenever a prompt comes up that I was able to fit into my storyline.

Links to previous chapters: Day 2. Social media Day 4. Rainy day Day 6. Angst day Day 9. Flowers Day 10. Song inspired Day 14. Fairytale retelling

SIMON

Ms Avery, the librarian, looks surprised at my request.

‘Revealing spells? For someone who doesn’t want you to know who they are?’

‘Exactly,’ I say.

Penny said I might find some clues in some of the less obvious places in the library, but I have no idea where to start. I figured asking Ms Avery would be more useful than wandering around by myself.

‘It’d have to be powerful,’ says Ms Avery, ‘if they don’t want to be found.’ She narrows her eyes at me. ‘Should you really be doing this? I won’t pry, but…’

I shrug instead of answering.

‘Well, okay,’ she says. ‘I might have a few ideas.’

She types something into her computer, squints at the screen and then leads me through the rows of books to a spot in the back corner.

‘You’ll find what you’re looking for in this section,’ she says, then pulls one out. ‘Maybe try this one. I’m not sure you’d be able to pull this off at an eighth year level, I have to say.’

She winces as she says it, so I know she means she’s not sure an eighth year, especially me, could pull it off.

I shrug again.

‘Alright, I’ll leave you to it,’ she says.

‘Wait, what about fairy tales? Or why a spell from a fairy tale wouldn’t work? Or how could I know if it did work?’

‘Hm,’ she says. ‘You might want to look at some older texts for that.’ She points me in the direction of a little storeroom at the back of the library. She pulls an old-fashioned clip out of her hair and uses it to spell the door open.

‘Thanks,’ I say, stepping into the room.

She holds the door open. ‘What you’re looking for might be on the top shelf there,’ she says, pointing with one hand and returning her clip with the other. ‘But just be careful, a few of those encyclopedias there have a tendency to try to escape when no-one’s around, so the door won’t open from the inside. Make sure you close it on your way out, though.’

‘Okay,’ I say.

She uses her foot to wedge a wooden doorstop underneath the door, so it doesn’t close all the way. After she leaves I turn to look at the room. It’s small, just enough space for shelves along two walls and a desk no bigger than the ones we have in the classrooms along the third wall, and then the door. I turn back to the books on the shelf Ms Avery pointed at. I stare at them, reading the faded titles on their spines.

None of the titles jumps out at me, so I choose one randomly and set it on the table. I open it to the first page, already thinking that I’m wasting my time.

But I can’t give up, not until I’ve done everything I can to find him and convince him to give me a chance.

BAZ

Snow is gone by the time I wake up in the morning. I try not to dwell too much on what he might be doing with his early start. Hopefully wallowing in disappointment and pining for me. Hopefully not about to figure out who I am.

I roll over, and the first thing I see is his flower – my flower – still sitting on the nightstand. I heard him running up the stairs last night, and I saw the silver glow, so I can guess what happened. The fact that Snow didn’t throw anything at me – Anathema be damned – shows that he obviously hasn’t come to the right conclusion yet. Hard to see how he could have missed it, given that I was right there, but that’s Snow for you.

I skip breakfast. I have no desire to see him again after last night, after he looked into my eyes the exact way he has countless times in my dreams. Instead, I go to the library, hoping for someplace that doesn’t smell like Snow or decaying rats (that doesn’t leave me any of my usual options).

Of course, as soon as I get there I spot Snow in one of the storerooms at the back. It wouldn’t be my life if it was this easy to escape him. It also wouldn’t be Snow if he was giving up on finding T that easily.

It almost knocks me over, realising how much he actually cares. If I thought I could show up for one romantic night and disappear forever and have him forget all about me, I was wrong. He’s not going to forget. I wasn’t just someone who happened to be there at the right time to give him a break from everything.

I don’t know what to do with this knowledge. I can hardly announce myself as T and have him forgive everything I’ve done to him for the person I was online.

I can’t break his heart like that, either.

I step into the room behind him, kicking the doorstop out of the way so he’ll hear me coming, and cross my arms, leaning against the door.

‘Shouldn’t the Chosen One be at breakfast?’ I say, sneering.

SIMON

I startle when Baz speaks, the book dropping from my hands.

‘Great,’ I snap. ‘Now you’ve made me lose my place.’

‘How terrible,’ Baz drawls. ‘It must have taken you hours to read those five pages.’

I growl at him. I only got here ten minutes ago, but I don’t owe him an explanation. He can think whatever he wants.

‘Why are you here?’

‘To bother you, obviously,’ Baz says. ‘Or to plot your demise. Whichever works better for you.’

I roll my eyes. ‘For once could you just…’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘What?’

‘Just not,’ I snap. ‘Just not get in my way and ruin everything. This is important, okay?’

‘What’s so important?’ he asks. I’m probably imagining that his voice has gone softer.

‘Nothing.’

It’s Baz’s turn to roll his eyes. ‘Clearly.’

‘Could you just leave?’ I say through gritted teeth.

He stares at me for a long moment. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. (I can never tell what he’s thinking.)

‘Fine,’ he says, and reaches for the door handle. It doesn’t turn. He tries again. ‘Snow, what the fuck?’

‘Oh,’ I say. ‘The door doesn’t open from the inside.’

He turns around to glare at me. ‘And you couldn’t have warned me?’

‘You came in before I could!’

He doesn’t stop glaring. He pulls out his wand and tries to spell the door unlocked. It doesn’t work.

I gulp. ‘I think only the librarian can do it.’

He puts his wand away and knocks on the door sharply. He tries again, but no-one comes. With a heavy sigh, Baz sinks down and sits cross-legged on the floor, facing me. I turn away and open the book again.

‘Who were you dancing with last night?’ Baz asks abruptly.

‘What?’ I look up from the book.

‘Who was it?’

‘I don’t know,’ I mumble. I turn a page, but I’m not registering anything. Sighing, I close the book and sink down to the floor in front of Baz.

‘You don’t know?’ he sneers.

‘No,’ I snap. ‘Look, I – that’s what I’m doing. I’m trying to figure it out.’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘Right.’

I know I’m blushing furiously. ‘I know it sounds stupid. You won’t get it.’

He sweeps his arm towards the locked door. ‘We have time. Enlighten me.’

I shake my head.

‘Is it your secret email admirer?’ His tone is mocking. Of course it is. How does he even know about T? (I guess I’m not subtle. I’m never subtle.)

‘I – I – yes,’ I stammer.

‘And the flowers were for him too?’

BAZ

Fuck. I shouldn’t even have said ‘him’. How would I know that, if I’d only seen him underneath the mask? (Though it would have had to be a very tall girl.)

‘Yes,’ Snow mutters, his face flaming bright red. It shouldn’t be as endearing as it is.

‘How romantic,’ I say. I can’t seem to drop this derisive tone. Let him think I think this whole thing is pathetic.

‘You wouldn’t understand,’ he says.

I pretend that doesn’t feel like a punch to the gut. I laugh. ‘But you don’t know who he is.’ I shift closer to him. Our knees are almost touching.

Snow shakes his head silently.

SIMON

I want to punch him. Or go off on him, but then I’d probably take out all of Ms Avery’s precious old books too. There’s no room to move, and nowhere to look except him. His eyes. The greyness of them – grey that’s dark blue and green and oceans and stormy skies and everything in between.

BAZ

‘So you’ve danced with him, and you talk to him, but you don’t know his name.’

Snow is glaring at me. I lean forward. (I shouldn’t. This is dangerous.)

‘Doesn’t that strike you as a little bit suspicious?’ I say. ‘He sounds like a tosser, if he won’t even show his face to you.’

‘Don’t say that,’ Snow snaps. ‘Don’t talk about him like that.’

‘What’s he so scared of?’ I continue. (Playing with fire.) His blue eyes blaze into mine. (I want to dance with him again.) ‘Why doesn’t he want you to know who he is? Maybe he has something to be ashamed of. Maybe he’s some fucked-up –’

‘Shut up,’ he growls. ‘He’s not. He’s amazing.’

My breath catches. I turn it into a smirk. ‘You don’t even know who he is.’

‘I do. I know him.’

I shake my head. Snow’s stare is determined, defiant, like nothing could shake him. Maybe not even me.

I breathe out slowly. ‘What if you found out he was someone you hated?’

‘I wouldn’t.’ His knees press against mine. ‘I know him. I wouldn’t hate him.’

I feel myself tipping forward, like I’ve jumped off this cliff and now it’s too late to turn back and gravity will get me no matter what I do next. Snow’s gaze is intense, and he’s not leaning away from me, no matter how close I get.

‘Do you promise?’ I whisper.

SIMON

Grey eyes…

It can’t be.

BAZ

There’s a flash of light and we startle apart.

‘Simon?’ calls Ms Avery. ‘Are you still in there?’

The door opens. Snow blinks.

‘Sorry, Ms Avery,’ he stammers. ‘I – we were just leaving.’

He abandons the book on the desk and rushes past her. I realise my hands are shaking.

#snowbaz #carry on countdown #simon snow #baz pitch

238 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 7 years

Text

Kings and Queens {Chapter 15}

Summary: A Throne of Glass AU inspired by the Breakfast Club (1985). Five students come together for Saturday detention, and realize they are not all that different. You can read previous chapters here.

Author’s Note: Our story has come to an end. An epilogue will be posted soon, but this is the last chapter. I hope you all have enjoyed this story as it wraps up. I would love to know what you think! :) Thank you for reading, friends.

Aedion

2:30 p.m.

My lips were numb.

Lysandra tasted of coffee and smoke, a flavor I didn’t know I craved until I spent an hour pressing my mouth against hers. Aelin and Rowan had gone off while Dorian was hard at work on the essay we had to turn in to Maeve at the end of the day, and I had poured my heart out to her. She had her doubts, and I understood, but I couldn’t walk away without the girl I had spent so long pining after, thinking she was too good to be true.

But she wasn’t. She was real. And she was there, with me, leaning her head against my shoulder and doodling in her notebook.

“Come to my party tonight.”

The pencil being held strategically in between her fingers halted. “Tonight?”

“Yeah,” I replied, casually. “You should come. Stay with me for a little bit…”

She wouldn’t look at me, but I could see the wheels turning. “I don’t know.”

I nodded, trying not to push too hard, trying not to sound too eager. “Come whenever. The house will be full, but I’ll most likely be on the porch or in the backyard. If you don’t want to come to the party, you could come after. Or before. Or tomorrow. Or –“

I stopped when she began to laugh, the sweet melody filling the air. “I’ll try.”

“You’ll try?”

“To come to the party,” she shrugged. “At some point. Maybe.”

“If you’re trying to play hard to get….There’s no need. You’ve already got me wrapped around your finger.”

Smiling, she leaned up to kiss me on the cheek before something caught her eye behind me. “She doesn’t look too good.”

Aelin was leaning against the bannister of the second floor, her head in her hands. Something must have changed in my expression, because Lysandra moved. “Go check on her.”

Earlier today, I would have thought that she would have said anything directed toward Aelin with malice, or hatred, or judgement….But, she said it with a soft smile, nudging me in her direction.

As I approached the staircase, I looked around for Rowan, but he was nowhere to be found. They had been gone for a while. If he did something to her….

I quickened my pace.

“Aelin? Aelin.”

But when she looked up at me, she was smiling. Glowing. Her cheeks were rosy, her hair that had been down earlier now in a knot on the top of her head.

I froze a few feet away. Blinked. Raised my eyebrows and crossed my arms as I observed her tank top that was wrinkled, the lip gloss that had been wiped – no, kissed – away. “Mother’s tits.”

“Watch your language,” she laughed, but her heart wasn’t in it. Her mind was somewhere else, with him, wherever he was. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“You two fucked,” I whispered, telling her exactly what I thought it looked like.

The blush in her ivory cheeks deepened, but she didn’t deny it.

Shaking my head, I couldn’t help but grin. “The criminal of Havilliard High. I never would have guessed.”

“He’s not who people think he is,” she said, her eyes distant. “He’s….” She shook her head, finally meeting my gaze. “He’s amazing, Aedion.”

I could tell that she meant it. I could tell that she felt like she was on top of the world. That she was happy. “You’ve known him for a long time.”

“It’s a long story,” she replied, simply.

“I expect to hear it sometime.”

“Maybe tonight. I’ll come over early to help set up.”

Leaning against the railing beside her, I gave her arm a nudge. “I’m happy for you.”

And I noticed her eyeing Lysandra as she smiled a smile that I had not seen on Aelin for quite some time. “You’ve got a lot to tell me, too.”

Yes, I did. “Do you think that lives can change in just one day?”

She continued to watch Lysandra, calculating something that she wouldn’t say out loud. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Rowan appeared then, and Aelin’s back straightened. He had walked into the clearing, carrying an old, dusty copy of Pride and Prejudice, his messy, silver hair hidden by his hood.

But his face was perfectly visible, and he looked like a stranger. He didn’t look dangerous, or daunting, or bitter. Instead, he found Aelin and smiled. He actually smiled. There was a glint in his dark, green eyes that said more than I wanted to know about what had happened between the two of them only moments before.

“I’m going to puke.”

Aelin barked a laugh, a sound that had become foreign coming from her. And when I looked at her, I couldn’t help but laugh along.

Dorian

3:00 p.m.

I had written the essay five times, tossing each attempt in the garbage.

The others had gone off to do gods knows what, but I didn’t mind. I had encouraged them to do so.

I had a lot I wanted to say, a lot I thought Headmistress Maeve should know about what had happened during that long day in detention.

The clock chimed three, so I took a deep breath and made one final attempt.

I forced myself to forget the technicalities. I did not write formally, as my father had trained me to do with every essay. I did not write with an academic mindset, as I had a thousand times before. I wrote from my heart, and I wrote what was on my mind.

And as I read over the finished product, I did not regret it.

Then, as I read it aloud to my peers, and tears filled Aelin Galathynius’ eyes, I knew I had done what was right by them, and by me.

A quarter until four finally rolled around, and the room which had been far too tense this morning was now…..easy. Relaxed. Calm.

Aelin and Rowan were whispering in one another’s ears, and whatever Rowan had been saying....it was making Aelin blush. Two people who I would have never imagined would end up together now looked unbreakable. I wonder what would happen when Monday came.

Aedion and Lysandra were sitting side by side, doodling on opposite sides of the same notepad. I didn’t even know Aedion Ashryver could possibly be interested in art. That morning, I hadn’t known anything about any of those people.

By the time four came, I felt like I knew them as well as I knew myself.

Although, I was still trying to figure out who myself was. But I think I was getting pretty close.

The door was thrown open, and we all froze. We had all gotten so comfortable that we forgot she was nearby.

We had forgotten we were being punished.

Maeve’s dark eyes narrowed as she entered, keeping the door propped open before her. She did not look pleased. She did not look anything. She looked exhausted, permanently exhausted.

“You may leave your essay on the table. Other than that, you are dismissed. I will follow up on Monday.”

We didn’t argue. Before she could say anything else, we left as quickly as we could.

After quickly gathering my belongings - my books, sweater, backpack, laptop - I followed the others out of the door, and into the school.

I wish I could have seen Maeve’s face as she read what I wrote.

The snow was still coming down in clumps, a frozen chill still making our skin tingle as we entered the great outdoors.

We stood together, for a moment, in silence on the steps of the school.

“What now?” Lysandra asked the question we were all thinking.

“We move forward,” Aelin said, simply, with a smile in the other girl’s direction.

Which she surprisingly returned.

“I’ll see you all tonight,” Aedion asked, without actually asking.

No one protested.

I didn’t know how I was going to get there. I didn’t have a car, and my father sure wasn’t going to let me go. As if he noticed my discomfort, Aedion cleared his throat. “Do you want a ride? Why don’t you come hang out for a little while.”

“Oh,” I hesitated, “No, I couldn’t possibly –“

“Dorian,” Aedion smiled, making me stop, easing my anxiety. “It’s up to you, but if you want your freedom…..Let us help you.”

They all stepped closer to me, huddling around the kid that they never would have given a second look at eight hours earlier.

And I even surprised myself when I said, “Okay.”

Then, I prayed we could get the hell out of there before my father showed up to get me.

Aedion seemed pleased as he clapped me on the shoulder. “Alright. Let’s go. Aelin?”

“I’ll catch up later,” she promised, her hand sliding into Rowan’s. “We’ll see you tonight.”

Aelin shrugged on her coat as the couple walked away, climbing into a big, black truck that must have belonged to Rowan. I caught him lean over the middle seat to kiss her before starting the engine.

He didn’t even look like the same person. He had been changed, had gained a piece of his soul that he had been missing.

Maybe we all had.

My companion turned to Lysandra, and held out his hand. “A ride?”

“I’ll walk,” she grinned, tossing her bag over her shoulder, lazily. “I don’t mind the snow. Besides, I have to leave you wanting more.”

“I do love a tease.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Some of the tension seemed to fade from Aedion’s posture as he smiled. “Good.”

He watched her walk away, watched her thick, leather combat books trudge through the snow, her long, dark hair blowing in the breeze, until she disappeared around the corner.

“Ready, Havilliard?” Aedion asked, gesturing toward an old jeep parked in the front row.

“Yes,” I spat out, before I could change my mind.

My heart was beating rapidly. This was it. The first time I would disobey, displease, my father, on purpose. I was excited, I was ready, I felt courageous, but I also felt like I was about to dive into a shark infested pool.

I was going to vomit. Or pass out. Maybe both.

“Hey,” Aedion lowered his voice as we began our walk. “We’re here for you, you know that? We’ll protect you. Or, support you while you protect yourself.”

He believed in me, I realized. This guy, who was only recently a stranger, believed in me. He may not know everything about my life, but he believed in me.

They all did. And that was more than I could say of anybody else.

“Thank you,” I said, and meant it.

We got into his jeep, and pulled out of the parking space just as my father pulled into the parking lot. I kept my chin held high, and my back up straight, as I caught his eye.

I would never forget his face as he saw me through the passenger side’s window, and watched us drive away.

Dear Headmistress Maeve,

You wanted us to write an essay. You wanted us to tell you why we deserved to be here, in detention. You wanted us to punish ourselves, to make you feel better, to tell you that you were right for trapping us in this room for eight hours.

Well, I’m afraid we cannot do that.

We don’t deserve to be in here, because we are not bad kids. We don’t deserve to be here, because we are misunderstood. We are all fighting a battle that you know nothing about, and I will not let you feel like you’ve done the right thing by throwing us in here based on pure judgement.

There is so much about us that you don’t know. That no one does.

With that being said.....thank you.

Thank you for putting us here, trapping us in this room with each other. Eight hours ago, I knew nothing about my peers, and they knew nothing about me. We were nothing more than a brain, a jock, a princess, a criminal, and a basket case. But now? We are friends. Now? It does not matter where we have come from. It only matters where we are going.

What did I learn today, from this wild ride through detention? We all have value. High school is a shit show. People judge, and hate, and do anything they can to make the time go faster. But at the end of the day, it’s pointless. Everything I have learned thus far within these walls have gotten me nowhere.

But what I have learned today in detention will change my life.

You see, Headmistress, the world will always see us as they want to see us, and we will never be able to please everyone. Including you. Each one of us has our own strengths, and our own weaknesses. Each one of us is a brain, a jock, a princess, a criminal, and a basket case. We don’t care how the world sees us. We don’t care how you see us. And we sure as hell aren’t going to convince you of who we are by writing an essay.

We know who we are.

And we are not ashamed. Not anymore.

Sincerely yours,

The Kings and Queens of Havilliard High

youtube

^ Kings and Queens - 30 Seconds to Mars

I hope you all enjoyed. :) Epilogue coming soon.

@bigbangt1963 @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @sarah-akhavan@gcarroll@kortanna@nightquart @notjustanyoldfangirl @superhuman-imagines@iwouldtrusthagridwithmylife@callmeladytypewriter@saybell1994@2-bookmaster-2 @eye-of-elena @shadowsinger-fireheart@inejcalmarekaz@viridiantopaz @books-are-friends-not-objects@raven-the-dark-titan@theantisocialbookworm310@whydoyoucareaboutmyusername

#kings and queens #throne of glass #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #my writing #rowaelin #rowan #aelin #dorian #lysaedion #lysandra #aedion #final chapter #chapter 15

228 notes · View notes

nordicicequeen · 6 years

Text

Snowfall Proposal (YoosungXMC)

The MysticWriters Discord I’m a part of did a Secret Santa this year and I got my favorite Aussie @misskiku. I hope you like this honeybun, I rewrote this like seven times and honestly I’m still not sure I’m happy with it, but I’m very happy that I got to be your Secret Santa. I’d also like to say that this is the product of no sleep writing so I’ll likely do some rewriting on it soon.

Pairing: YoosungXMC

Words: 1592

Triggers: Very brief mention of death, when I refer to an old woman’s husband as late.

MC was certain that no Christmas Eve had never been as long as it had been this year, but then again she'd never set up a fundraiser on Christmas Eve before. The sound of the alarm clock made her groan as she slowly forced herself out of bed. It was going to be another long day, but she was going to get to spend it with Yoosung. Although they'd likely have very little time to spend with each other until after the fundraiser was over later tonight. MC had felt slightly neglected, but she would never say anything about it to Yoosung. She knew how hard he was working towards his dream of being a vet and how much the fundraiser meant to him, but she couldn't pretend like she didn't feel a little pushed aside this Christmas. She tried her damnedest to ignore it and stay focused on the planning. She hoped that they'd make up for the lost time during his break from classes. However, first she would have to make it through the fundraiser.

After a quick shower and a significantly longer time getting ready, most of the time having been deciding on her outfit, MC was ready to leave for the fundraiser.

"I'm so tired." She said with a yawn. "I'll stop and get coffee for everyone on the way."

There was very little traffic this early in the morning, in fact the longest line of traffic she sat it was in the drive thru to get coffee, and she made good time to the site of the fundraiser. A smile came to MC's face as she saw Jaehee and Yoosung making some last minute fixes to the decorations as she walked up.

"Merry Christmas! I brought coffee!" MC said her voice sounding more awake than she actually felt.

"Merry Christmas MC. Thank you for the coffee!" Jaehee said as she took one of the coffees from the holder in MC's hands before taking a quick sip. "I needed that. Between trying to get enough work done for Mr. Han to enjoy Christmas and work on the fundraiser, I didn't get enough sleep last night. I hope I don't look as tired as I feel."

"Merry Christmas Honey! Thanks for bringing coffee." Yoosung said as he took his coffee from MC before giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Jaehee you really do work to hard. Jumin will official be a Grinch if he makes you work three Christmases in a row."

Laughter broke the silence of the cold morning air as they all thought of Jumin as the Grinch. The three of them taking a seat at one of the set up tables that would soon have snacks and refreshments on it for donors. They sipped their coffees and talked as they waited for catering and donors to begin showing up.

"I'm actually a little nervous you know? I mean do you think we got everything? I know we've been planning for weeks, but I just can't help but feel like something is off. How many people do you think will show up?" MC said in more of a thinking out loud kind of way than directly to anyone.

"Off?" Asked Yoosung. "What do you mean off?"

MC shrugged. "I hope it's nothing, but something just feels weird."

"Well I hope we didn't miss anything. Though to answer you question about the guests, last year we were busy up till we closed. I figure it'll be similar this year, especially after the amazing party we threw earlier this year. I suspect the donors will start showing up within the next thirty minutes. The catering should be here-" Jaehee was cut off by the ring of her cellphone. "Yes. Yes. Alright thank you. Goodbye." She hung up and quickly finished her coffee. "The caterers are here. MC will you help me set up the food? How bout you help the donor that just showed up Yoosung."

An old woman had showed up a few minutes early. Yoosung remembered her from last year, well maybe not her so much as her dog. It was a papillon that was 2-4 years old, but the name escaped him. "Merry Christmas ma'am! Are you here to make a donation?" Yoosung asked with a smile.

"Oh, yes I am." She answered with a little shiver at a gust of wind.

"Great! Allow me to help you up to the donation machines." Yoosung extended a hand to the elderly woman.

Taking his hand the old woman followed him up to the donation machines. "My late husband loved coming to this fundraiser. He came every year it was held. I knew that I had come in his place this year and make a donation. I hope it can help someone in need." She smiled at Yoosung before turning to a donation machine. "Okay, so how do I work this? Name, Amount, Card or Transfer..."

"I'm sorry about your husband, but I think he would be happy that you are continuing to donate to a cause that he believed in." Yoosung smiled at the woman and started to explain. "Where it says name you can enter your name or donate anonymously. Where it asks for an amount you enter the amount you want to donate. Card or Transfer is where it gets complicated. You can enter information for a credit or debit card or enter the information for a bank account and transfer the funds that way. We also have a donation box where you put a check if you would rather do that."

MC and Jaehee had finished setting up the food and drinks while Yoosung was helping the elderly woman with her donation. Watching him as helped the woman made MC smile. It was moments like this that made her so happy to with him. Sure he had been busy, but he wasn't the type of guy that would intentionally ignore someone without good reason. Well, at least her gift for him would more than make up for the slight iciness that he may have felt from her lately. She'd gotten him the new expansion for LOLOL. He'd been talking about it since it was first advertised and MC was sure that he would love it.

At first the donations were slow, but by 9 am there was a pretty steady flow of people making donations. When Zen showed up at 10 am they were thankful for the help. The people in line were more patient when taking pictures with a up and coming musical star. It also didn't hurt that they learned from last year and had gotten a second donation machine to help with all the donations. With Zen there they were able to make sure that everyone got a break around lunchtime. Gotta eat right? Jumin and V showed up at 5 pm. Both of them made sizable donations and joined everyone else helping out.

They had just closed up donations when Seven showed up. His presence there confused MC. She knew that he had no love for Christmas and as the fundraiser was over all that there was to do was clean up which didn't sound like something that Seven would want to volunteer to do. She didn't have long to ponder this before Yoosung grabbed her hand.

"MC... I have something very important to talk to you about. We've been together for few years now and I can honestly say that you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You've inspired me to work hard to achieve my dream of becoming a vet. You've help me realize what I'm capable of when I put my mind to something. Honestly, every minute with you feels like a dream. I love you and I know I haven't been that attentive lately. Between school and the fundraiser, I'm sure you must've felt neglected, but I want you to know that every little thing you did for me while I was working was appreciated. From taking care of Lisa, to cooking for me, to making sure I slept, not to mention being there for all the doctor visits and headaches because of my eye. I know that when I have my surgery that you'll be there with me then and it makes me feel brave. I can see by the look on your face that you have figured out that something is up. So I won't drag this out too long." Yoosung dropped to one knee and reaches into his jacket pocket to produce a black velvet ring box. "MC, I've done a lot of thinking about what my future might look like and while a lot of things change every time I think about it, one thing stays the same: The only person I can see myself ever sharing a future with. You. So MC will you marry me?" Yoosung flipped open the ring box as he finished his question and stared up at MC with hopeful eyes.

A choked sob came from MC as she heard his question. Too dazed for words, all she could do is nod at first as she tried to keep from ugly crying. The claps, congratulations, and flashing of Zen's camera were all drown out to MC as Yoosung put the ring on her finger and she clung to him as though he might disappear.

"Yoosung, you spoke about dreams before so I'm sure you can understand, if this is a dream then don't wake me up."MC said as the snow began to fall.

#secret santa #Merry Christmas MissKiku #mystic messenger #mysme #mm #yoosung x mc #Yoosung Kim #yoosung mm #yoosung mysme #mc mystic messenger #Christmas fic

22 notes · View notes

weshallc · 6 years

Text

Nonnatun Christmas Card Exchange FF4 Chapter 3

Thank You for all the amazing comments I have received about these 4 fics. I enjoyed writing all of them and am so glad people have enjoyed reading them.

Guess who forgot about Freddie’s Christening when she wrote these 2 chapters. For the purposes of this story it has been postponed until January. Sorry this turned out to be a lot longer than planned!

Chapter Three: The Flat

“That went well.” Patrick shook his head, as he pulled away from the London.

“ It wasn’t that bad,” Shelagh protested, “He is bound to be frustrated and frightened.”

“ You didn’t have to stay all day, you know?” Patrick continued, “You could have gone to Fred’s with the Sister’s.”

Shelagh shot Patrick a stern glance. “ I know exactly where I should be.” Patrick said no more, but Shelagh noticed a slight smile on his lips.

Back at the flat, they were met by a mountain of good will. There was twice as much as yesterday. News had obviously spread of Timothy’s admission. Shelagh recognized among the multitude of mince pies and Christmas Cake, lots of different parts of many different turkey’s, but mostly their legs. There were sausage rolls, pork pies and scotch eggs. Numerous handmade gifts and cards. Patrick discovered a belated Engagement card, which for some reason he seemed to find hilarious.

He looked at Shelagh and asked, “Still worried about what people think?” She didn’t reply.

She changed the subject, flummoxed by what they were to do with this new found bounty. Patrick suggested taking some to the hospital the next day and some to the rescue centre that night. So the midwives could distribute among those who would be glad of a little extra.

“ As long as they don’t distribute it to the people who donated originally to us,” Patrick laughed. Shelagh was aghast, horrified that someone should receive back a gift they had donated with the kindest of motives, this made Patrick laugh even harder.

Their overloaded car set off for the Leopold Institute. He had been calling it their car, since he had rescued her from the Essex fog. It had been, their flat, their home for almost as long. Earlier she had heard him talking to the On-Call House Officer about their son and her stomach had turned over. This morning he had referred to it as, their bed, but she didn’t want to think about that now. Not when she was about to face Sister Evangelina for only the second time since she had left the order.

It wasn’t just Sister Evangelina though,was it? Unlike the other night. It wouldn’t just be the Sisters, it would be everyone. The first time they would have to face everyone as a couple. Suddenly her courage left her. They should now be Dr and Mrs Turner of Kenilworth Row. Patrick had been treating her like his wife and his son’s mother, he seemed completely oblivious to the fact,that the wedding hadn’t took place. This may have been acceptable at the London and even among their Poplar neighbours, but Nonnatus was different.They would know all to well that she wasn’t Mrs Turner. Yes,maybe in Dr Turner’s eyes but not in eye’s of the law and definitely not in the eyes of God.

She had known who she was when she was known as Sister Bernadette. She had a clear vision of who she would be as Mrs Shelagh Turner. But, who was Shelagh Mannion? How was it she felt more comfortable being someone, she had never actually been, rather than someone she once was and who she was now.

She told him, he should go in alone. She would help him get the bundles up the institute stairs and then comeback and wait for him in the car.

Up until Timothy’s emergency, every time she had caught Patrick looking at her, he seemed to be smiling. Ever since he had put his coat around her 2 months ago - was it only 2 months ago - and brought her home.

He was not smiling now, he was just looking at her intently, almost studying her. He said nothing, she felt uncomfortable. She remembered feeling like this before. On the long drive to the sanatorium. There were times when he seemed to see right into her soul. He wanted her to say something then and she couldn’t. Here she was struggling again. She felt disconnected to herself and her past. She didn’t want to feel disconnected from him. When she saw herself through Patrick and Timothy’s eyes, it was the only time she knew who she really was.

Her mind went back to last night;

Sister Gibbs had finally persuaded, no, actually ordered Patrick to go home late on Christmas Eve.Timothy was out of danger and breathing independently.

They both knew the evacuation was over, Shelagh had contacted Sister Julienne while Timothy was being removed from the Iron Lung. Patrick didn’t offer to take her back to Mrs Penney’s and she hadn’t asked.

Patrick had held onto her hand so tightly on the way to the car, she started to get pins and needles. They drove back to the flat in silence. Once away from the harsh hospital lights, relieved by the improvement in his son. Patrick began to feel the unexpressed anger he had been harbouring rise. He had tried so hard , since his bride-to-be, had managed to track him down at the rescue centre and told him by telephone that she was with Timothy at The London.

Finally it came to the surface, he was angry at himself mostly for being so blind. At Timothy for managing to conceal his illness until it nearly took his life. At Sister Gibbs for making Shelagh leave,or was it at her for leaving them, for leaving him?

Timothy’s illness ripped open the highly polished veneer of Shelagh and Patrick’s relationship. The rawness of the events of the last few days, mocked this very proper, completely appropriate love affair.

Patrick Turner combusted. He shouted, he ranted, he cursed. Shelagh had worked as a midwife in Poplar for a long time and was familiar with quite a few words, her fellow nuns following a different vocation, would probably never hear. What surprised Shelagh was not that Patrick didn’t temper his vocabulary in front of her, but he didn’t apologize for it either. Shelagh said and did nothing, she just let him vent.

Eventually he burnt himself out. Exhausted by his 24 hour sleepless vigil at his son’s bedside. He collapsed into the waiting arms of his fiancée. When the tears finally came. Shelagh held him in her arms against her breast, like she would a beloved child. Stroked his hair, his face, kissing the tears away. Whispering gently, that she loved him and that everything would be alright, that they would find a way.

In the early hours of Christmas morning, for the first time, they talked properly, intimately as lovers do.Previously they had only chatted, made plans or sat in comfortable silences.Watching the snow fall silently through the closed window. Wrapped in blankets nursing a glass of Glenlivet, courtesy of Chummy, in appreciation for holding the Cubs Christmas party.

Patrick was calm now, a little embarrassed maybe? He fussed over her smoothing her hair, showering her with tiny butterfly kisses intermittently. He asked her if she wanted to share a cigarette, she did. When he asked her to light it,she became confused. He gave her a tiny box tied with a red ribbon and an oversized bow stuck on top. She had no idea where he been hiding that. She guessed he must have retrieved it when he went to pour the whisky.

Shelagh had never owned a lighter and although she struck a match almost everyday. Whether to light the gas or light a spirit lamp. She struggled with the action resulting in 2 very sore and very black thumbs and a very unlit Henley. Patrick roared with laughter, which made it worth the humiliation, Shelagh did not like to be seen as inept in even the smallest undertaking. When she finally got a flame the couple both let out a cheer and Patrick told her to practice once her thumbs had healed. He did take a look at them and did give them a little more attention, than she thought necessary, but she didn't complain.

#ctm #fanfic #nonnatun christmas card #shelagh mannion #patrick turner #christmas 1958

16 notes · View notes

find-greatness · 6 years

Text

Rosamond Cross | Trip Report | 1.29.16

*Scroll down for trail report or read this long post about the best grandparents in the world*

California holds such a special place in my heart. It's where most of my family is from and where I was born. I only lived in California until I was about six. My parents always talk about when we moved to Washington that I refused to wear pants because I'm a girl meant to be in sundresses and back then skorts! Summer is still my favorite season!

Since moving to Washington I've only been back to California a handful of times but favorite time was the summer of 2004. Our house at the time was currently full with people, we had a dog that was about to have puppies, it was summer break and I was bored teenager and was losing my mind. Not sure if I begged my parents or my grandparents but I was able to get out of my house and spend the entire summer with my grandparents.

Now everyday wasn't a vacation in fact I spent the summer at my grandmas Hair Store but it was the first time I got to really get to know my grandparents. That summer I got to watch my grandma run a business from the inside and out. My grandma was equal parts stern and loving which made her the BEST boss ever. I also got to spend time with my grandpa! I really think I get some of my habit skills from him. This guy would work night shifts as a janitor, go swimming at the gym, then follow that up with some hearty McDonald's with friends and then come home before we left for work. I also get to be subject to endless stories about growing up in South Dakota and walking thru the snow to school in shoes with holes in it. Together we spent a lot of time at home or at their favorite place, Home Town Buffet talking and really enjoying each other’s company.

My grandparents were truly the kindest people in the world! To open up their home and put up with my sassy teenager self is a testament to them. They made a impact on my life that summer and I will forever cherish those memories. Soon enough (not any time soon) I'll be able to share my story about that summer with my kid or future grand kids.

Date: January 29, 2018 Miles: 2.16 miles RT Elevation: 510 ft. Highest Point: 2561 ft. Parking Pass: None Location: Rosamand, CA

I had big plans to go to where they filmed the Flintstones but I didn't have much time and this place was conveniently located right behind my aunts house! Now I should say this isn't a hike or at least one that comes up AllTrails or Google so all the info above is based on my fitbit. I did this hike 3 days in a row. The first two days were short and sweet and the 3rd day I got some exploring mileage in and that's the route i'm counting.

Day 1 | January 27th |

Now the first day I did this hike to the cross I went from the front. The path to the cross that goes directly up is about 500 ft of elevation of gain in 1/4 of a mile! It's pretty freaking difficult and it's all dirt and rocks. I share the photo of my dad because even though it was hard and he to take a break halfway up, he finished and made it to the top.

Day 2 | January 28th |

I had all intentions of making this my long hike day but I didn't get much sleep and was planning on driving to LA with my dad and brother. This time on the trail I went up another way my aunt told me about. It wasn't much different then the direct route but it was a little less steep. It was a calming early morning and it was this day that I starting falling in love with desert landscape.

Day 3 | January 29th

This was the day of my grandpas service so I needed the trail to give me all the energy for the day and it delivered. This is the day i'm counting as #4 of the 52 Hike Challenge as it was the longest. From the previous two days I had a route I wanted to tackle which took me around the base of the cross and up the opposite side. This side took me up close and personal with the rock formations that I was eyeing!

The desert of Southern California is so drastically different then where I hike but I found so much beauty in it. The gold color of the dirt, the random colorful succulents and plants, endless views of the desert landscape, and the mysterious rock formations make hiking in California an amazing adventure. It was also a first that I didn't have a map or some sort of guide. I know it was only two miles but being on this hill every day and choosing my own adventure was something that I've never gotten to do before.

#Hiking #life #Trail Reports

4 notes · View notes

trueloveseyeroll · 6 years

Text

When The Tide Turns (11/16)

Summary: The plan was to go to England, finish the case and head back home in a matter of days. Of course, nothing in Emma’s life ever goes according to plan. Not only does she end up travelling across Europe, looking for a Liam Jones in order to finish her case, she ends up travelling with Liam’s brother - an annoyingly handsome Killian Jones. And she doesn’t trust him one bit.

Rating: T, for language - and there’s a bit of light violence in this chapter

Beta-reader: writing a multi-chapter for several months without feedback can get pretty lonely, but thankfully I had an amazing beta by my side - thank you so much @forget-me-not-s !!

Artists: these artists are seriously such talented and amazing people, and they deserve so much praise!!! @theblacksiren - check out her beautiful artwork for chapter 1 here and chapter 7 here! @optomisticgirl created the awesome banner - and soon you’ll get to see the amazing masterpiece created by @fairytalesandtimetravel

Word count: ~4181 (68k+ in total)

AO3

Emma barely slept. Scratch that, she didn’t sleep at all. Not knowing Killian was so close, not with her head spinning as it was. But she had made the right decision; going home was the right thing to do. At least that’s what she kept telling herself as she lay awake throughout the night and as she left in the morning with the first bus towards the airport. She didn’t bother to call Regina or Mary Margaret or anyone. She was just done with talking for the moment.

The sun rose while Emma leaned against the window of the bus, staring out at the passing landscape. She might as well enjoy the view while she could. The mountains, the endless rows of pine trees. There was no snow yet, not this far south in Norway. She almost felt sad for not getting to see the small villages and vast forests decked in a blanket of white. But New York was beautiful too with its skyscrapers and never-ending activity.

Yes, coming back home was going to be wonderful. No more uncertainty about a hopeless case. No more internal battles on whether to trust her ‘partner’ or not. No more crazy talks of Neverland and magic.

No more stupidly blue eyes and too-handsome-for-anyone’s-good faces.

She could sleep in her own bed again and throw herself into new cases. Sit back on her couch and enjoy a glass of wine with some Netflix. Emma had all kinds of things to look forward to back at home.

Yet telling herself she’d made the right decision became harder and harder the closer she got to the airport.

Emma ran her finger over the cut on her palm which Killian had tended to that night in the cave. She never did return his scarf.

When the bus finally came to a stop, Emma felt weird stepping out alone. Dragging her suitcase without listening to cheeky comments that she could ignore or counter left Emma feeling bitter.

Where would the cheeky bastard be now anyway? Probably on his way to Denmark to look for that stupid spyglass. Emma shook her head, telling herself she was glad not to be with him on such a fool’s errand. She wondered how long it would take before he gave up on finding his brother, ignoring the part of her that was angry at herself for giving up first.

Emma tightened her grip on her suitcase. She had to stop her thoughts from spiralling. The case was done. Liam was most likely dead, Killian would learn to deal with it, and if he didn’t, it wasn’t her problem. She needed to get back to her real life, to New York, to new cases that actually made sense. Not some crazy feud over Neverland.

Besides, if it really mattered so much to Killian that she stayed, he wouldn’t have let her leave so easily.

The airport in Kristiansand was rather tiny. In the early morning there wasn’t much of a crowd, only a few people in line for check-in. Emma had bought the cheapest ticket from Kristiansand to Oslo to New York on her phone and could look forward to being back home in about thirteen hours. Hopefully, the airport in Oslo was interesting enough to spend three hours in while waiting.

Emma knelt on the floor, looking for her passport in the front pocket of her suitcase when something caught her eye.

Someone.

A dash of bright red in the corner of her sight made Emma look up. And she could’ve sworn she’d seen it before. A red woollen hat. A red woollen hat on an also familiar, short, round man with a beard. She’d seen him in Barcelona, she was sure of it. And maybe sometime before that too?

That unnerving prickle at the back of her neck returned.

This guy was following her.

Emma tried not to stare at him for too long in case he realized that she’d noticed him. She pretended to change her mind about standing in line for check-in, slipping her passport back in its pocket. Proving that the red-hatted guy was following her was the only thing that mattered now.

She walked down a narrow hall to her right. She wasn’t sure where to it led but she didn’t intend to find out. Once she’d rounded the corner, out of everyone’s sight - including the red-hatted guy’s - she stopped and pressed her suitcase and herself against the wall.

She waited silently, her heart beating just a bit faster. Emma was a lawyer, not some secret agent, but she’d been in this kind of situation before. If only she could confront the guy somewhere a bit more private.

Emma considered the door a few feet to her left. It was probably locked, but she checked anyways, hoping to find some small storage room or something.

For once, she was lucky enough to get what she wanted.

A few minutes more passed in silence. No one followed her down the hall. Emma was beginning to feel restless, all this pent-up frustration and adrenaline with no one to take it out on. Yet.

About two minutes later, her target rounded the corner. To say he was surprised when Emma grabbed him by his jacket and shoved him inside the unlocked storage room was an understatement. A mop was knocked over as Emma shoved him against the wall. The door shut and lights flickered on and Emma hoped to god that no one had heard his yelp.

“Who the hell are you?”

Emma held her arm at his throat while pinning him against the wall. Sure, he was bigger than her but Emma had been in this kind of situation before. She knew how to stand her ground. Knew how to throw a punch if she needed to, too. Foster kids were always easy targets in the schoolyard after all, but Emma had made sure she wasn’t one of them. And she couldn’t deny, letting out her frustrations on a punching bag from time to time was pretty satisfactory.

Besides, this guy was hardly struggling. He all but accepted her arm pressing against his throat.

He didn’t answer her question, so she asked a bit more forcefully. “You’ve been following me and I want to know the hell why.”

“I... Smee. My name’s William Smee and I swear I haven’t been following you,” he stuttered.

Emma’s blood ran cold. She’d heard that name before.

“You’re the guy who told Gold about Neverland,” she said, strengthening her hold on him.

Smee lowered his head. “Yes, yes, okay? I told Gold about Neverland, and I may have been following you, but I swear, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Not as bad as it looks?” Emma repeated, unable to believe the nerve this guy had to say that. “You’ve been following us since - I don’t know - England?”

“Yes, well-”

“How the hell is following someone across countries not as bad as it looks?”

“Hey, there’s been no harm done, has there?”

Emma scoffed. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that and tell me why the hell you’ve been following me.”

Smee squirmed, not wanting to answer. But it suddenly seemed pretty clear to Emma. Gold had paid Smee for information about Neverland. He had tried threatening Killian - by threatening his own wife - into telling him about Neverland. She would never be able to understand how a successful millionaire could believe in fairy tales, but if the guy was crazy enough to threaten his wife...

“Gold put you up to this, didn’t he?”

Smee’s silence was answer enough.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” she muttered. Her momentary lack of questions and accusations gave Smee the idea that maybe it was his turn to ask something.

“I just don’t understand; why aren’t you and Mr. Jones going to Denmark together?”

What?

“I’m not going to Denmark.” She stared at Smee, confused and frustrated. “But how do you even know to guess that’s where we’d be going? Exactly how closely have you been spying on us?”

Smee began stammering out an answer again, some awful cover-up.

Emma remembered the first time she’d felt the prickling at the back of her neck. It was in her hotel room in Barcelona - she couldn’t exactly place her finger on it then, but it felt like someone had been in her room. Knowing now that that could very well have been true, made her feel sick.

She glared at Smee and it didn’t take much more for him to break.

“I’m sorry, okay? I never meant to get so involved. I just wanted to earn a bit of coin, I never knew Mr. Gold would end up taking it this far. The- the picture of the mermaid was a false clue. It wasn’t my idea though, it was hers. All of the ideas have been hers or Mr. Gold’s, I’ve just been doing what I’ve been told, I swear.”

The arm pressed against his throat slackened a bit as his words sunk in. The drawing was a fake. They must have broken into her room, found Liam’s drawings and discovered the Santa Maria del Mar before them, planting a fake clue for them to find. Killian was going to go to Denmark on the grounds of a lie... But something else bothered her as well.

“Her?” she repeated.

“Aye, uh, Miss Zelena West.” The name meant nothing to Emma. But from the look in Smee’s eyes, she guessed Zelena wasn’t the most pleasant of people. “She’s keeping an eye on Mr. Jones right now - ordered me to follow you in the meantime.”

Emma couldn’t believe it. How could all these people be so crazy to believe that Neverland existed and some old objects would help them get there? Obsessed enough to threaten and follow people, create false trails and-

“Wait. If the drawing was fake, what was really behind that brick in Barcelona?”

“Uh,” Smee hesitated again. Emma caught the way his eyes flickered towards his satchel. She hoped for his sake he would never end up in a real interrogation, because he really sucked at this.

“Listen, I can tell you don’t want to be a part of this,” Emma said, “so why don’t you give me what you found, stop following me and disappear for a little while. If you’re afraid of Gold or this Zelena you can contact my firm and see if they’ll help you.”

Smee seemed to consider her offer very carefully. To be honest, she was proud of herself for handling it so rationally when the frustration inside her rather longed to knock him over the head with the fire extinguisher in the corner, take his satchel and get the hell out of there.

“They’ll find me anyways,” he finally answered, shaking his head.

Emma sighed. As much as that fire extinguisher called to her, she knew blunt strikes to the head were a lot more damaging than the movies let on. She’d rather not end up committing a murder because of this damned case.

“Then why don’t you just show me what you found, and we’ll each go our separate ways and no one will have to know.”

That idea got through to him at least. Emma slackened her grip, enough to let him open his satchel while she kept a wary eye on him.

“We found the spyglass,” he said, pulling out the object. A part of Emma ridiculed her for being so excited to see the spyglass. She wasn’t supposed to care about any of this; it was all a load of bullshit. Why don’t you just go home anyway?

She ignored that part of her though, grabbing the spyglass from Smee’s hand and taking a closer look at it.

I’m sorry, buddy...

Emma pulled back and swung her fist at Smee’s face, tripping him over with her legs. It was a rash decision - probably one that would get her fired - but with the adrenaline pumping through her, she really didn’t care. This was the best way to do it anyways. Her knuckles hurt and his face most likely did too, but there would be no lasting damage.

As he yelped and scuffled on the floor, Emma pulled the door open with the spyglass tucked under her arm. She clicked the mechanism in place which would ensure the door would lock behind her when she left. Her head buzzed with excitement, every nerve telling her how terrible this decision was. But she did it anyway.

The door closed behind her before Smee could get out. He pounded on the surface, crying out, but the sounds were only faint. Emma couldn’t help but smile. Her luck had stretched far enough for a somewhat soundproof door.

Someone would find him sooner or later, but in the meantime, Emma grabbed her suitcase (thankful no one had walked by and noticed it) and walked away with the spyglass in her other hand.

She wouldn’t be going home after all. She had a certain Jones to find first.

Two Joneses actually.

Emma’s new-found determination lasted for about five minutes. Stepping out of the airport marked the end of her confident spree. She couldn’t be sure if Killian was in Arendal anymore. She couldn’t be sure if Smee hadn’t contacted Zelena - damn, she should have taken his phone - and for all she knew Killian could be knocked out and lying in his own little storage room. Of course, she’d never thought to get his phone number...

So Emma went from feeling pumped and proud about making a decision that would probably get her fired, to sitting on a bench near the airport, searching hopelessly for a way to find Killian’s phone number.

In the end, Anna was her salvation. She couldn’t remember the name of the bar, only that it was something with Sven. (Reinsdyret Sven was the name - apparently, they’d named their bar after a reindeer). A phone number on their site led to an awkward conversation with Anna, who was actually surprisingly understanding of Emma’s situation. That phone call led to an even more awkward conversation with Elsa, who was a bit more skeptical. Not that Emma could blame her.

Though hesitant at first, Elsa gave Emma the details she asked for. Such as the fact that Killian had just left for the airport after eating breakfast at her place. And his phone number.

Emma wouldn’t have minded talking to Elsa a bit more. Maybe asked what she thought of the whole Neverland-business, what with her sounding like a normal, sane person. Emma could use the perspective of another sane person.

If she told Mary Margaret what was really going on, the woman would either hug her for taking a chance on someone or slap her to try and wake her up from whatever madness she had spiralled into.

She couldn’t decide which was worse.

But after having thanked Elsa for her help, it seemed weird to stick around and ask further questions.

Finally, she was left with the chance to call Killian and tell him she had changed her mind. Oh, and that she’d found the spyglass.

What the hell am I doing? She could be finding her seat on the plane soon, on her way back home. But no, she was on a bench near the airport, trying to get herself to call Jones and hoping like hell Smee hadn’t gotten out yet and that neither he nor Zelena would find her sitting there.

Before she could chicken out, Emma dialled the number Elsa had given her. A moment passed in silence, no beeping indicating the call had gone through. Emma checked if she had pressed call. Which she had. As soon as she held her phone to her ear again, it went straight to voicemail though.

Emma frowned. Was he ditching her call? That wouldn’t make sense though - how would he know she was the one calling?

She tried again, and once more the call went straight to voicemail and she hung up. Maybe his phone was dead.

Emma all but growled in frustration. Of course his stupid flip phone would be dead right when she needed to call him and tell him-

She paused at that. What exactly was she going to tell him? Of course, the gist of it would be her admitting to believing him to some extent, and that she was willing to travel with him to “Neverland”. But how could she say that without his ego inflating to the size of Manhattan?

And how was she going to say it when his phone was dead?

The answer to that question was simple enough though. The bus route from Arendal to the airport included a change at a station about twenty minutes from the airport. She’d just have to catch him there and tell him everything face-to-face. Which didn’t sound awkward at all.

A coffee-to-go in hand, Emma waited at the bus station for about fifteen minutes before the bus from Arendal rolled in. Her leg bounced as she sat on a bench and dammit, she couldn’t deny she was nervous. But why should she be nervous? It was just Jones. Insufferable, cocky Killian Jones. There was no reason to be nervous about this.

But when the door opened and people started stepping out of the bus, Emma’s stomach coiled. She stood up, waiting to see that familiar face stepping out.

Why was she so nervous?

Granted, last she’d seen him she had turned her back on him after he had told her some pretty personal stuff - but she hadn’t been wrong to do so. She didn’t owe him anything. And he didn’t owe her anything. If he wanted, he could take the spyglass and leave her to go to New York: which should have sounded like the ideal option for Emma as well, but it just didn’t.

None of the people spilling out of the bus were Killian. Not yet at least. As one stranger after another stepped out, Emma realized something almost even more frightening. She wasn’t just nervous. She was excited. Excited at the idea of seeing him grin at her when he found out she hadn’t left, and she’d know that she had made the right choice... But what if he didn’t grin at her?

Emma realized she was biting her lip and mentally berated herself, straightened her posture and looked up-

And that’s when Killian walked out. For a second, some traitorous part of her imagined kissing that stupidly handsome face like in some cliché movie, and that’s when Emma knew she had made a huge mistake.

“Swan?”

Of course, he noticed her right then. He seemed to have trouble with believing his own eyes, and Emma took some small pride in that at least.

“Hi.”

They just stood there for a moment, several paces between them. Him with his surprised look, scratching that spot behind his ear; her with her coffee-cup in one hand and suitcase by her side, trying to forget the unbidden image that had flashed through her head.

“I thought you’d left for New York.”

“Yeah... I guess I changed my mind.”

“So you’re... not going to New York?”

“No. Well, I am at some point, but not today.”

A small grin started to spread on his face. Something genuine, something Emma hadn’t seen on his face before (or refused to notice before), and she couldn’t account for the things it was doing to her stomach. Before he could open his mouth and say something that - who knows - might turn her legs to jelly or something equally embarrassing, she rushed to explain herself.

“I’m not saying I don’t think all this Neverland-talk is crazy, because it is, but well... I guess that doesn’t mean it can’t be true.” Okay, she had to say something to make that grin go away. “I’m still pissed at you for not being honest with me from the beginning though, and don’t think I’ll let you off the hook that easily.”

“I wouldn’t dare, Swan.” Dammit, the grin only became cockier. Only for a second though, and then it turned back to that shy, hesitant smile and Emma couldn’t tell which was worst. “But you truly believe me now?”

(The shy one. Definitely the shy one.)

“Yeah.”

Neither said anything, as if both of them needed a moment to realize what she’d just admitted.

She didn’t need to say much more. Didn’t need to explain that though it hurt, she understood why he hadn’t told her everything from the beginning. And though she found everything pretty insane, she was willing to go through with the case.

And Emma didn’t need Killian to say anything to know that he understood.

He gave a small nod in gratitude. “I hope I’m not too presumptuous in thinking you’ll be joining me on a trip to Denmark then?”

It was Emma’s turn to smile now.

“Actually...” she drew it out, looking at her suitcase wherein she’d stashed the spyglass. “I don’t think we’ll need to go that far.”

Killian followed her line of sight towards her suitcase. He cocked his head in question and Emma could almost hear his ‘what are you on about, Swan?’ in her head.

“I ran into someone at the airport about an hour ago.” Killian’s eyes darkened and Emma guessed he’d jumped to the worst conclusion with Gold being the one she’d run into. “William Smee.”

“Smee?”

“Yeah. Looks like you were wrong about me being Gold’s spy but right about him having spies. Apparently Smee’s been following us since England along with some woman named Zelena West.”

“Bloody hell.”

Emma shot him a look of agreement. “Smee said Zelena was keeping an eye on you while he followed me to the airport, and I’m not sure where she is now, but last I saw Smee I’d punched him and locked him in a storage closet at the airport.”

Killian broke into a chuckle, eyes swimming with someone akin to pride. “I knew there was a little pirate in you, Swan.”

Why did that sound like one of the best compliments she’d ever gotten?

“I guess I’m only proving that by saying I took the spyglass from him before locking him in.”

“Smee had the spyglass?”

“Had being the keyword. Apparently he and Zelena found out about the Santa Maria del Mar painting before us and after breaking into my room and finding Liam’s drawings, they discovered the church first too. And the spyglass. The drawing you found was a diversion. Doesn’t matter now though, because I’ve got the spyglass.” Emma nodded towards her suitcase again.

The pride in Killian’s eyes turned to honest wonder. “You’re a bloody marvel, Swan.”

Okay, that was the best compliment she’d ever gotten. And how she was still standing was almost a marvel in itself.

“Yeah, well...” she shrugged, a blush creeping up on her face along with a smile. Fuck she hated herself like this. “Anyways, we don’t know where Zelena is - or if she’s heard this entire conversation - so I suggest we get a move-on. Please tell me you know where to go next.”

“Well, we’ve got all three objects now, so all we have to do is set sail.”

Somehow he made it sound natural. Like they were off to some fun relaxing sail-trip and not on a hopeless journey without a real course. And hell, other than during boat tours or ferries, Emma had never actually been sailing before.

Didn’t they usually fly to Neverland anyways?

“Right. Sailing. And uh, do you have a boat for that?” Emma asked.

“I’ve got a ship docked in Westport harbour in Ireland - taking a few tourists on board every now and then served as my livelihood for a while, alongside my attempts at writing. Alas, Westport’s too far away. Elsa told me Liam sailed to Neverland from a harbour in the northwest of Norway; my intention was to begin our journey the same.”

“So we’re going further north?”

“Aye. It seems a warmer coat doesn’t sound so foolish now, does it, love?”

Emma glared at him. He was right though. And what the hell - she’d already spent way more than should be allowed on a simple ‘overseeing of a business transaction’, travelled to four different countries in one week, straight-up punched a guy and locked him in a storage closet in an airport, disobeyed Regina’s orders by travelling further with this case and had all but started to believe in Neverland. How much harm could a new, warm coat do? She was going to get fired anyway, Emma was sure of that by now.

But the look in Killian’s eyes when he realized she wasn’t leaving him after all... and the way it just felt right to not give up on this case quite yet -

Well, getting fired was about the least of Emma’s worries now.

#csbb #when the tide turns #cs ff #my writings #cs fanfic #chapter 11 #enjoy!#cs au

41 notes · View notes

benjamingarden · 4 years

Text

Weekending

Oh my how things have changed in the past month..... We are hunkered down at home, having fun with the animals and taking the opportunity to get a few things done at the house that we didn't think we had time to do. Might as well make the most of it, right? We are not currently selling at our farmer's market. Although the market is still going, for now, we are trying to make the most responsible decision for us and our customers. Since our products are shippable we decided it's really best to limit our exposure to others at this time. I mean honestly, it's just the two of us. No kids, no parents, and no relatives around us at all, so in the end, it is us solely responsible for our farm and our business and because of that we want to try to stay healthy. Our customers are wonderful and have seemed to understand so our online store has been busy the last two days. For that we are incredibly grateful!

Most of the schools around us are closed for the next 2 weeks and our grocery stores have been hit like what you are seeing on the news. Shelves completely emptied. We did our monthly grocery shopping (plus a bit extra knowing eventually we'd need to isolate) about 2 weeks ago. At that time everything was in stock and we had no issues at all. We didn't feel the need to stockpile a year's worth of toilet paper, instead, about a month and a half's worth of food, animal food, coffee, tea, and toiletries. When I shop monthly rather than weekly we eat the fresh fruit and veggies first and then switch to frozen for the last couple of weeks. If you truly don't want to visit the grocery store for a month it is possible to make it work. Many fresh fruit and veggies last a month (root vegetables, apples, oranges, etc.) and you can freeze meat, milk and butter. If you don't make homemade bread you can freeze bread too. As far as meals go, you can either create a full month meal plan or just wing it with what you have in your stocked pantry, fridge and freezer. It's really a matter of buying what your family eats regularly. As long as you do that, you are good to go.

Coop Girls - they are loving the fact that the weather has been decent and the snow is (finally) melting. Eggs are being laid regularly (we are getting about a dozen a day) and they are enjoying patrolling the property.

Oliver - I had a woman ask me at the park yesterday how old he is. We took him for a walk to get him (and us) out of the house and out in the beautiful weather. When I said 10 she was amazed. She said she would have never guessed he's that old based on how he acts - running around like a crazy man and having a blast. I'm so grateful that he really is doing well. He certainly has his moments that scare me but in general, he is thriving.

Jackson - when I walked down the stairs this morning I could see something in the middle of the dining room floor but couldn't make out what it was. It was Jack's toy basket. He had drug it out from where it lives to the middle of the floor and proceeded to almost empty it. He must have been looking for a specific toy and couldn't find it. He does this sometimes. I'm guessing he got bored in the middle of the night. So what I'm telling you is he is the exact same. I don't think he will ever mature.... He will forever be a kitten in an adult cat's body. The other night he was pretending someone or something was chasing him. He raced around, crashing into furniture, jumping and carrying on like he'd lost his mind. He is a piece of work. Oliver, Jay and I just watched him and shook our heads.

What's Cooking - I'm going to work on creating a new veggie burger recipe this week. I love them and thought it would be fun to do. For dinners I've been enjoying homemade burrito bowls (Mexican rice, beans, and corn salsa) these days. I like making the beans in the instant pot. Quick and easy. I make a huge batch and freeze them. Jay does not enjoy having the same dinner more than once a week so I just make quick and easy things for him. I have a list of recipes he loves and we alternate depending on what protein he's having that day (poultry on Mon, Thurs & Sat; pork on Tues; Beef on Wed & Sun; Seafood on Fri.). He will NOT eat poultry or seafood two days in a row (isn't that funny?) so this makes my life a bit easier, assigning protein to the days. I just look at the list of poultry, pork, seafood, or beef recipes and cook one up. For lunches Jay has been on a pizza made on homemade naan bread kick (I make this recipe from Budget Bytes). We add tomato sauce, cheese, and other toppings then cook it in the air fryer for 8 minutes and voila. A perfect mini pizza! I have been loving quinoa salad (no recipe, just cooked quinoa, chickpeas and whatever veggies I have on hand - fresh and frozen).

Breakfasts are usually cereal (Jay has eggs a couple days a week) but I've been craving cinnamon swirl bread toast so I made a batch of that today. I was thinking of it last night and realizing I haven't made it in forever. The recipe makes 3 loaves but I usually make 2 loaves plus a batch of cinnamon rolls. So that's what I did. Hoping you had a wonderful weekend!

Link Love: Finding Your Purpose And Pursuing Your Passion (SallyAnn Miller) 10 Things To Remember Before You Take Things Personally (Marc & Angel) A Well-Stocked Pantry (Prudent Homemaker) - Brandy's list of her extensive stocked pantry. We Are Not A Zero Waste Family (This Simple Day) Farm Notes - you may know Kristin Kimball from her book "The Dirty Life". She and husband Mark farm in Essex, NY on an amazing farm they built from scratch. We've had the absolute pleasure of visiting a few times. She writes weekly notes to keep their CSA members in the loop and publishes them to her site. (Kristin Kimball)

Weekending was originally posted by My Favorite Chicken Blogs(benjamingardening)

0 notes

kimbapwrites · 7 years

Text

Soulmate Au - Ong Seongwoo

Member: Ong Seongwoo // Wanna One

Genre: Fluff

Plot: When everyone is finding their soulmates, what if you miss yours?

Word count: 2064

“It froze!” Joohyun screamed, her tiny hands clutching her clock pendant tightly. 19 years, 4 months, 28 days, 13 hours, 4 minutes, and 58 seconds. You watched as your best friend looked around the cafe frantically, before meeting eyes with a cute boy, his own eyes rounded with shock. “Is that really you?” You almost laughed at her amazement at finally meeting her soulmate. You two were both late at encountering The One, but clearly she was faster than you. You nudged her towards him, and he sent her a bashful smile.

“I’m Kim Jaehwan, a university student who’s majoring in music and composition. And you?” You sat down, muting their conversation. You did not want to impede on their privacy any longer than necessary, and instead fiddled with the delicate silver chain that held your own clock. Now it was 19 years, 2 months, 16 days, 9 hours, 52 minutes, and 4 seconds since you were born, and your watch had yet to stop. Other friends had met their soulmates as early as birth, in the crib next to them at the hospital. You would wait patiently, you decide, and convinced yourself that it was ‘save the best for last’.

“____. Do you mind if we… uh… go out?” Joohyun interrupted your thoughts. You nodded, sending a sincere smile, before shooing them out of the cafe. You took out your sketch pad instead, and looked around. It was a quaint and quiet nook of the college town that you attended. You had promised to take Joohyun here when she visited during her break, as her university started winter break sooner than yours had, but here you are now alone. I guess I can take credit for their amazing love story when their wedding rolls around, you thought to yourself with a miserable smile. You flipped through the pages, studying your past sketches. You and Joohyun were both insistent on majoring in things you were truly passionate about; for you it was art and for her it was law. Your sketchpad was worn out and frayed, but it still contained content that you considered valuable.

You can’t remember how long you sat there, listening to the soft guitar and piano instrumentals from the overhead speakers, flinching periodically at a sudden clatter of plates and cups or scrape of a chair against the wooden floor. Instead you poured yourself into drawing the flower arrangement that decorated your table, fresh despite the frigid weather. Or at least, you had been, until a rough shove of your table knocked your hot tea onto the surface. You frantically scooped up your pencils and pad, but it was too late. A yellow stain was splattered across the top page, and your past works were mushy to the touch. You furrowed your brows, before glaring upwards. A pair of boys stood there, one with a hand over his mouth in surprise and the other stuttering at your gaze.

“I-I’m so sorry!” He stammered, before grasping at the napkin dispenser and dabbed frantically at your art. You snatched it away, gritting your teeth in anger. You pressed it downward, absorbing as much of the liquid as possible, while the boys wiped off the table top. When the mess was cleared up and damage control done, you stared at the ruined sketch pad. It was not as terrible as you had thought it would be, but it was not the perfect bundle of effort you had put in prior to the episode. You stood up, shoving your belongings into the bag. The two boys had their hands folded over one another, staring at the floor. They were clearly expecting an outburst, but instead you just shook your head.

“If you two need a table to sit at, then sit here.” You stalked away, shoving the heavy glass door open and stomping across the freshly fallen snow. It was too late to ask Joohyun to keep you company in your sour mood– she was probably hitting it off with Jaehwan. The faces of the two boys were forever etched in your mind. One had brown hair, while the one who had grabbed the napkins had natural hair. You shook your head. What was the point of being cute if you were a mess?

You dragged yourself into your dorm, plopping onto the bed. Joohyun’s bed was empty, her desk a mess of pencils and textbooks, while her clothes were strewn over the tiled floor. You picked up, folding them absentmindedly while you hummed some holiday festive tune. Perhaps you could go watch a movie by yourself, or you could take a nap to forget the incident. You sighed, before wrapping your fingers around the cold metal of the clock pendant, your eyes fluttering shut as you lay down on your mattress.

“____! Wake up!” Joohyun’s excited voice rang in your ears as you shot up from your bed. You winced at the harsh morning sunlight and stared sleepily as your best friend threw an outfit for you to wear. “Jaehwan is singing at the multi- university concert today with his friends and he asked if we wanted to come! I got us backstage passes for before the show and front row seats.” You nodded, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“What time is it?” You ask, before glancing at the clothes. White cropped sweatshirt and a denim skirt and stockings to cover up for the cold. You changed, listening to her blabber about the details of how perfect Jaehwan was. He had humor. He had the most adorable laugh. His voice was like an angel’s. The list went on and on, and you tried to not cover her mouth as you finished tying half of your hair up.

“- and I was wondering if you would find your soulmate and we could go on double dates.” Joohyun finished. You sighed at the sensitive topic. It was another day closer to 20 years of not knowing where he was. There were always rumors of soulmates never meeting. One would die in an accident. One would never fall in love. Someone would grow old without anyone at his or her side. It was tragic, and something you feared.

“I’m sure he’s out there somewhere.” You mumble, before checking your pendant. You froze, feeling tears well up. Joohyun immediately tensed, before running to your side.

“What’s– Oh crap!” It was frozen. 19 years, 2 months, 16 days, 10 hours, 37 minutes, and 56 seconds. You had seen your soulmate yesterday. “B- but who?” Your mind whirled. The two boys. It had to be one of them.

Secretly, you had wished it were the boy with darker hair. While you had undeniably been angrier at him, you were touched by his efforts to save your sketch pad. His manners softened the doubts you had about one of the two being your soulmate. The brown haired one was not a bad guy either from what you had seen; he had an adorable eyesmile that he made when he was flustered, and a Busan dialect that had started to leak as he would stammer words to his friend. Still, you leaned towards the former rather than the latter.

“What if I never see him again?” The words stuck to your throat. So close. So so so close. How could you have missed it? You normally checked after meeting any new guy. Sure, the pair had pissed you off, but you must have been stupid to not have thought about it. Hope flaired in the pit of your stomach. You would recognize the two anywhere, and you would figure out when their clock had stopped, and if it matched the time at which yours had.

“You will. Come on, let’s head to the performance hall and we’ll think up of ways to meet him again.” You allowed Joohyun to drag you across campus, wiping away stray tears from your eyes. By the time you arrived to the sound check and rehearsals, your eyes were tinged with pink, and Joohyun was handing you her handkerchief. The image of the boy burned in your mind.

“Do you want to see Jaehwan with me or?” You nod your head, before following her backstage. The halls were full of rooms where the performers were getting ready. Racks of clothes lined the walls, the scent of cosmetics heavy in the air. She knocked on a white door, and it opened to reveal Jaehwan’s smiling face, who rushed to embrace her. A cough strangled out of you before you could help it, and you turned away. Keep walking. Walk it out.

Your feet dragged heavily, dodging oncoming traffic as other performers rushed to finish their hair and styling. Once or twice you almost walked into props or pieces of a set for the stage. More than once people had thrown pitiful looks at your tears. You finally sat down on a chair outside of one of the rooms, not minding the rush of boys running in and out. Your eyes closed as you sighed, leaning your head back against the wall.

“Exactly 14 hours, 28 minutes, and 1 second ago, I met you.” A familiar voice startled you. It was soothing to hear, unique to the ear but comforting at the same time. You looked up. It was the boy with darker hair, the one who had spilled your tea. The one you had been waiting for.

“The one I’ve been waiting 21 years, 2 months, 7 days, 52 minutes and 11 seconds for.” He remarked, before offering a hand to you. You stood upright, mouth gaping but unable to utter a sound as you grasped his outreached hand. It was rough but warm, something like his neutral expression but his contrastingly teasing tone. He was wearing a white hoodie, with a ripped denim jacket and matching torn jeans and white shoes. It’s so similar to my outfit, you thought. He smiled at you, and a triangle of beauty marks on his cheek caught your attention. “It would be nice if you could talk to me too. I thought I was going to be single–”

You cut him off with a constricting hug, arms wrapped around his lean but sturdy frame. He tensed in surprise, before a hand reached up to stroke your dark hair. Tears framed your eyelashes once more as you hiccuped pathetically. He laughed at the sight, and it sounded like music to your ears. You loved the way he smelled like cotton, and how his hair was messy and fell perfectly around his face. You loved how tall he was, how his tongue poked out just a little when he laughed, and how willingly he made you drop your former grudge.

“You’re still a clumsy ass.” You mutter, and he rose an eyebrow at you. Wrong words to say. “I mean you still ruined my art and made me think I didn’t have a soulmate and I hate how cute you are now that I forgave you and I’m so glad I finally met you but I was so scared I didn’t know it was you until it was too late and–”

“You really need to breathe.” He remarked, before wrapping his arms around you. It was a warm embrace, something you had been waiting for all your life. He simply felt like home. “I never thought the first words I would ever hear from my future wife would be that I’m a clumsy ass. Colorful language. I assume my future is about to get a lot brighter.” You blush out of embarrassment, but mentally check off that it would be hard to win an argument with him. He simply had a way of making his words humorous and direct.

“Can I at least have your name before I can agree to be your wife? I think you’re proposing a little too fast there,” you counter. He grinned even wider at this, a warm glint in his eyes as he peered into your face. He was obviously admiring it, and you blush a deeper shade of red, much to his delight. He cleared his throat slightly.

“I’m Ong Seongwoo. I’m a student who majors in dance and theatre from one of the visiting colleges. I’m graduating this year and this is my last college performance. And I’m so glad you made it.”

#admin leah #produce 101 #scenarios #ong seongwoo #wanna one #soulmate au #sorry for the wait #produce 101 scenarios #kpop scenarios #wanna one scenarios #fantagio #kpop #fluff

577 notes · View notes