#and!! this year i have the greenhouse so i can do more!! maybe tomatoes finally | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nose235678 · 3 years

Text

So, I’m really late to the party on this one...

Turns out, through all this time that I’ve been putting off my writing, because I was unable to properly envision my OC’s appearances in my head, I never knew about a little website by the name of picrew.me. It has changed the game...

What the hell, right? I just went on TikTok today and saw people posting with the available character creators and I felt like an idiot for two reasons:

Because I’m a writer, not an artist. I’m too impatient to sit for that long to draw out as many characters as I need to for my main original novels or the occasional fan fiction I write to test out new OC’s personalities.

Because I grew up playing “dress-up” games like every other member of my 2000’s baby generation (I’m 20) and I never for a moment thought of trying to find a program that might be able to do my art for me for free (not that I don’t support people going to freelance artists, I intend to seek one out for book covers soon, but I just lack the budget to get portraits done for the number of characters I have).

So, what the hell is wrong with me, right?

I’ve been wasting all of this time struggling with what I couldn’t see and now...? I’m writing more than ever and I’m not confused! It’s a huge weight off my shoulders and I finally intend to share a few of my creations to show off some of the different art styles offered by the selection of character customization programs...

My first example is Persephone from my latest endeavor into writing an X-Men story.

She’s a young mutant who was born into a Jewish family with the power to control and manipulate plant life. However, this ability didn’t develop until she turned ten and ran away from the hand of a violent father and straight into the care of a marooned alien. One we all know and love, Groot who crash landed on Earth (an event that will eventually lead him to Rocket in the years to come, but for now this moment is set before X-Men: Days of Future Past. Before Magneto’s speech is given on tv and life changes for mutants forever).

With the help of her mutation, she’s able to hide Groot’s true identity as an extraterrestrial. Claiming upon her arrival to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters that she made him by accident when her mutant-phobic father raised a bat in hand to kill the "abomination" he'd brought into the world. Not that it was entirely a lie, she could replenish and understand him through her abilities. And we all know how protective our beloved seven foot tall tree monster can be of small, mostly defenseless, screaming creatures.

As for the details of her abilities, they follow thusly:

Her canine teeth are elongated and incredibly strong along with the rest of her chompers as her mutation affects her metabolism and she needs to eat a large amount of heavy protein to maintain her strength, meaning beef, chicken, eggs, fish, etc. She identifies as a carnivore, because eating uncooked veggies can get a little awkward when she can hear the cherry tomatoes in her salad talking. Asking not to be eaten. As a result, she takes classes and puts herself in charge of planning meals/grocery shopping for the team. She’d rather die than eat unseasoned food.

Her hair grows like a weed and resembles the color to boot. Flowing in lengths of green, but it changes with the seasons. Going from lime green in the spring, to emerald in the summer, red, yellow and chestnut in the fall and in the winter...seasonal depression kicks in with a force to turn her flowing tresses black as potting soil. This however can be treated with her depression through the use of stimulants, mood stabilizers and a cubic butt-load of coffee, because just like pine trees, her internal biome loves acidic foods.

Though, because of its composition and advanced growth rate, she keeps her hair teased neatly into locs and can be often found preening herself whenever she’s not grooming every last sprout and bud in the Manor’s greenhouse where she lives with Groot to keep him company. And depending on her mood, her hair can sprout flowers based on whatever she’s feeling. Anger will sprout a crown of thorns, heartbreak grows anemones and intense love could cause whole bushels of forget-me-nots to bloom in their mesmerizing blues and violets.

And who do they bloom for? For the very first time after years of attending Xavier’s school? After being kidnapped by and defeating Apocalypse? Saving Warren/Angel’s life...? Why of course it would be one Mr. Kurt Wagner, fresh out of the circus who would take one look at her green hair with freckled, clay-colored and his blue features would go straight to purple after the fight in realizing that he wasn’t alone. There were other mutants out there in the world who looked different and Percy...? She was nothing short of her namesake. A true Spring goddess who melted the moment he wandered lost into her green house and wasn’t afraid of Groot. Even after the giant tree tossed the boy across the room like a rag doll, thinking he was attempting to sneak up on his little green-thumbed friend...

Needless to say, they would hit it off, despite a few trials given the disapproval of her new best friend, Warren who was still bitter about Kurt accidentally burning his wings during the cage fight. Though, with the new, fluffy white ones that Percy would help him grow with a special herbal brew...? After the X-Men agreed to take him in an hide him from his family...? He really had no right to complain...

And you never know...maybe one day because of them, a new generation of X-Men might come into the world...

I was able to come up with all of this story because of Picrew, so if you’re struggling like I often do, why not give it a try? It’s totally free and even fun if that’s your sorta thing. So, feel free to let me know if any of you want me to show off anymore of my OC’s sometime. I’d be happy to oblige...

42 notes · View notes

inevitablesurrender · 3 years

Text

Silence is just scraping together energy time. Kinda need to use it for other things.

Like shelves. Dear god the shelves. Gotta finish getting them on the wall before I can bother unpacking things, though. ...And even then I’ve only made an estimate of space. *cough*

How sick of winter am I?

Avocado pit sprouting race. So many seasonal plants perished regardless of attempts to keep them alive, but they all lasted much longer than they would have outside I suppose.

I finally saw avocados on sale that didn’t look like they’d been in a stampede and made fucking guacamole and ate it all in three days and I regret nothing. Except that it’s gone.

Which leads me to having accomplished food... a little more often than I have been. Made the last batch of cranberry sauce because superior sweet and sour sauces and also good on toast, but winds up looking like a crime scene in photographs no matter how good the food is. Guacamole is similarly a horror movie-looking food, so no pictures there either. No excuses for not having taken pictures of the giant chocolate chip cookie except that I’ve been too busy enjoying the fruits of my labor and I still have over a week’s worth left.

Also in plant stuff, I planted ginger root on a lark and heeded the advice, “just be patient and water it”. The sprouts broke the surface very suddenly, and now all I have to do it... keep watering it for the rest of my life. Well, that’s plants. I’m a little surprised it was hat easy but it does have a ways to go before I can divide it up and give it separate pots. ...Because the goal always seems to be overwhelm with green, right?

...Which reminds me I need to finish ordering seeds. Simple things this year; herbs, peppers, carrots, peas. Maybe I’ll try some tomato seeds I saved last year, and a few more of the passionflower seeds I have left. I have no energy expectations, but things are certainly a little easier regardless. And I’ve accidentally landed on a local farm’s mailing list, but the one that happens to have the enormous spread of greenhouses and local flowers so maybe that will be... nice. Later on. Given the huge drop in insects we had last year, I’d at least like to get more flowers for the bees.

...Also, no, the lemon still has not ripened. I am starting to wonder a lot of things.

Plants, man.

#yammering #yammering with pictures

2 notes · View notes

nicememerino · 4 years

Note

you asked for prompts. Steve and Billy own a farm when they are older. They spend their days taking care of the animals, and the gardens. At the end of the day they end up cuddling in a hammock.

Thanks for the prompt!!! I hope this is what you were thinking of because this is how I imagined them living on a farm. lmao. You can read it under the cut or on AO3

It was rough escaping Hawkins, between trying to save up the money and leaving behind all the shitheads, Billy thought they would never make it. It took 10 years but they finally saved enough up to move to a ranch house about 3 hours away from Hawkins. It, of course, took 5 more years for it to become the farm they always wanted.

Billy got out of bed at 6:29 AM. A single minute until it would go off and wake Steve up and Billy was making sure he won their daily bet. He quickly turned the alarm off and glanced over at Steve’s side of the bed, which was empty.

He threw his boots on as fast as he could while hobbling down the steps, he was determined to win for the first time that week, it, of course, was only Wednesday but Billy didn’t care much for losing.

A year ago the two men, still embedded in their childish ways, decided on a bet. Whoever woke up first made breakfast and in turn, the loser had to sit at their stand up the road all day and sell their produce in the hot sun. Some days, after particularly bad nightmares or a sleepless night, they would both sit at the stand and keep each other company. This was not one of those days. When the weatherman the night before told the two boys that the low would be 80, both of them had hurried to bed, neither wanting to sit out in the blazing sun the next day.

Billy quickly ran out the door to the chicken coop, trying to collect the eggs as soon as he could without getting attacked by the hens. Figuring that they still had milk in the house fridge he ran with the eggs back to his and Steve’s shared kitchen to find his boyfriend still missing.

He slowed his steps and called out around the house for the brunette. When there was no response, he put the eggs in the fridge and walked out to the barn where they kept Dustin, one of their milking cows. Henderson had a fit when he found out Steve named a cow after him.

“That’s insulting Steve! Do I remind you of a cow?” He had yelled after meeting the animal for the first time.

Billy thought that maybe Steve decided to go ahead and get a jump start on what had to be done that day and just lost track of time.

When Billy walked in the barn he found Dustin and their other two milking cows, but no Steve. All of their equipment was exactly where he had left it the day before and it looked like nobody had been in there that morning. Dustin looked at him with wide eyes as Billy walked out and closed the barn door behind him.

He quickly headed over to the stables where they kept their two horses, still no sign of Steve. Billy became frantic when he checked the greenhouse and he still couldn’t find him.

Right when he was about to head back inside to call the sheriff and report Steve missing, the brunette pulled up in the truck Billy had bought two years prior. In all his haste, Billy never thought to check the garage to see if Steve had maybe gone somewhere.

Billy ran up to the truck and threw the door open before his boyfriend could even unbuckle his seat belt. He wrapped his arms around him and put his face into his neck inhaling deeply.

“Woah, I didn’t expect you to get up so soon. I wanted to surprise you” Steve said as he clicked his seat belt off and reached into the passenger side floorboard.

“Surprise me with what? A heart attack and a missing boyfriend?” Billy asked.

Steve quickly handed over the small sack he had been keeping in the floorboard. Billy opened it to find 6 peaches and a ton of green plums. His jaw became slack as he stared into the bag.

“How the hell did you come across these?” He asked as he pulled a peach out and rolled it around in his hand.

Steve shrugged as he carefully moved Billy back so he could get out of the truck and shut the door.

“Got a text around 11 last night from Robin, she told me that her family was gonna be riding through at 5 today and that she had made sure her mom packed some stuff for us. I had to go meet her in town before they passed through” Steve explained.

He put his arm around Billy and led him inside as the sun started to shine unbearably bright for his unprotected eyes.

“I couldn’t find you anywhere. I woke up and I thought you were tryna avoid going to town today and then I couldn’t find you in the barn, or the stables, or the greenhouse. I thought something had happened princess” Billy explained as they stepped inside the kitchen, worry filling his voice.

Steve planted a kiss on his boyfriend's forehead before taking the sack from his hands and sitting it down on the table.

“I’m right here babe. I was thinking instead of going to town today, we could skip the market and you could teach me how to make the peach cobbler you always talked about. The one you said your mom used to make?” Steve suggested.

Billy used to talk about his mom's peach cobbler all the time, whenever they would pass a peach stand the two of them would stop, but Billy never deemed the peaches ‘good enough’ to use on his mom's recipe. From the way he was staring at the one in his hands, Steve hoped these were up to Billys standards.

Billy grinned and looked up at his boyfriend, “That is probably the best idea you have had in a few years, pretty boy. What are we supposed to do when Mr. Creerly shows up asking where his tomatoes are?” he asked.

Steve just hummed as he placed another kiss on his boyfriend's forehead.

“We lock the doors and pretend like we aren’t home.” He suggested as he pulled the rest of the fruit out of the brown bag.

Billy groaned and gently shoved his boyfriend away. Steve sighed and furrowed his brows, trying to think of a plan.

“Fine, when he shows up asking about his stupid tomatoes, we'll sell them to him and ask him once again to stop showing up at the house, deal?” Steve asked.

Billy hummed in content as he wrapped his arms around Steve’s torso.

“I’ll only make that deal if you promise we can lay in the hammock later before you go clean out the stalls,” Billy said, bargaining.

“Oh, so I’m cleaning out the stalls today? When did we agree on that?” Steve asked as he washed off the fruit.

“When you undecided to leave me this morning and make me think something happened,” Billy explained as he walked towards the back door, going to milk Dustin and the others.

“Fine, hammock time before I go deal with literal shit. Now go let Dustin out before she starts yelling.” Steve said as he continued to wash the fruit off.

Billy walked out the door with a grin on his face and a green plum in his hand.

#Nice Writes #Harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #Stranger Things #billy x steve

26 notes · View notes

necrowriter · 4 years

Text

monday thing: april 27th (the myriad challenges of growing)

it is the last Monday in April, warm and sunny today after a cool, wet weekend. many of the trees in the back woods were hit badly by a late, hard frost, which has made the view outside my window look oddly like early hot autumn. there are so many young green leaves gone brown and dead. the poplar tree in particular is all over brown and I worry about it. but today there is a lot of green out there glowing soft in the sun, so I will take that as a good sign.

it seems like a good day to think about gardening.

for a lot of my life I have thought of myself as having a black thumb, unable to grow anything. I kept plants in my dorm rooms all throughout college, lined up on sunny windowsills and carefully packed back and forth at the end of every semester. some of them lasted longer than others, but they all died in the end. I still remember bemoaning the loss of a mint plant to a friend and getting the incredulous response how did you kill mint?

during my last semester I had a labor position at the college greenhouses. for reasons too lengthy and bothersome to go into here, I had to stay on an extra semester in the fall and graduated in December. also for entirely different reasons too lengthy and bothersome to go into here, I was determined to not spend that semester working in the same place I'd been in for the last several semesters. the greenhouses weren't my first choice, but it was the first one that was willing to accept someone coming in new for only one semester.

bit of a misnomer, that: the 'greenhouses' were one glass greenhouse, several plastic hoop houses, and a few assorted small fields, along with a processing and packing building; a small shed-like building with a bathroom, an office, a sink and a fridge where we kept water bottles and a pitcher of gatorade; and a clearing in the woods that was home to a truly enormous amount of compost-in-progress. they grew produce and herbs, which were either sold locally or used by the college cafeteria.

working there left an impression on me, I think.

it was hard work, and I'm not a very physically sturdy kind of person. I also have no tolerance for heat, and more of that semester was hot than it wasn't; it was worst at the beginning, in late August, where I often found myself out working in the mid-90s, a temperature range I can barely abide sitting still in. even when the hottest days were past, that tail-end of summer clung on tight for a long time afterward. days warm enough to need a cold wet bandanna tied around my head popped up well into November.

it brought out a fear in me that is rarely far away: of falling behind, being lazy, not being up to the task. I was sure that I would find myself getting told off for not working hard enough, or accused of shirking. but it didn't happen.

"it is pretty hot out here," my supervisor said when I started getting sick on one of my first days on the job, out picking tomatoes with her in one of the fields. "you better go sit in the truck for a bit and drink some water. don't pass out on me."

I sat in the truck and drank some water, and did not pass out. we finished picking the tomatoes, and went back and sat outside the office-shed and drank cold gatorade. never in my life had gatorade tasted so good.

the other thing I discovered was that I liked gardening.

it seems a bit of a cliche but I was surprised to find how much satisfaction I got from watching seeds that I had planted start to sprout, or helping harvest enough butternut squash to fill up the back of the pickup truck. I worked through podcasts and audio books while weeding plots in the hoop houses or washing and boxing sweet potatoes alone in the packing house on a cold Saturday morning. I helped plant things, and water things, and pick things. it was hard sometimes, but I was able to do it.

then I graduated, packed up the houseplants from my dorm room windowsill, and went home, and watched them die.

well, I suppose a part of it's this: when you're having a hard enough time looking after yourself, it's perhaps not surprising to find yourself struggling to look after anything else as well.

sometimes it's easier. sometimes you need to look after something else; sometimes watching something else grow gives you what you just don't get from the care and keeping of your own self. but sometimes it just becomes another task on a list that already feels too long to bear.

but there have been other obstacles, and it's only in looking back now that I'm starting to piece together what they were.

so let's talk about ADHD and houseplants.

it wasn't something I knew I was dealing with while I cried over homework and watched my plants die on the windowsill in college. depression and anxiety, sure. I figured that much out well before I was ever actually diagnosed with either one. but ADHD was not a consideration at the time. sometimes I would look at a list of symptoms and think could it be...? but then I would shake my head, close the tab, and admonish myself that surely having ADHD did not look like getting straight As and showing up to all your classes on time, no matter how many anxiety spirals you went down at one in the morning.

so if I didn't realize ADHD was a problem there, you can bet I didn't realize it might have anything to do with the plants. I just kept admonishing myself over and over: come on, just remember to water them. is that really so hard? surely you can do it if you try.

when I finally got my diagnosis I started thinking: well. hm. maybe that explains something.

memory is the most obvious thing that comes to mind. remember to water them, or remember that you did water them so don't do it again now or they'll drown. remember to put this one out in the sun, and take that one away. did you repot that one like you were going to? no, you didn't, and it's been a week. have you ever fertilized any of these? lord! I'll do it when I've finished this paper. it's half past midnight. I'm going to bed.

etc.

but--like most things that have to do with ADHD, as I've been perpetually discovering the past two years--it's a bit more complicated than that.

you get a plant. you saw it at Lowe's, or Wal-Mart, or Trader Joe's, or the nursery while your mom was buying tomatoes, and you knew you probably shouldn't have, but you couldn't resist. you want to try again. you always want to try again. so now you have a plant, and you don't know much about gardening but you at least know that the tight little plastic pot it came in is probably not optimal growing conditions for anything, so you'd better do something about that.

only, you don't know what this particular plant needs and you don't have anyone on hand to ask. so you have to look it up. you google it. (if you're lucky enough to know what it is--if not, you have to find out, setting you back even further.) you find several websites with information about this plant. you open one. you stare at it. you go back and look at another one. you stare at that one for a while too. the information is not entering your brain. all of these websites seem to have slightly different information. you try to coalesce this mix of information into a series of steps you can follow and fail utterly. at this point you probably close your laptop and, now too frustrated to think about this anymore, decide you'll get back to this later.

(you probably will not.)

ADHD makes it hard to do anything that requires a series of steps. on bad days, this includes things like making lunch or taking a shower. you sit there thinking about how many different things you have to do to make a sandwich (get the bread out, get the peanut butter out, get a knife, get a plate, put the peanut butter on the bread, god, it never ends) and each step feels like its own task entirely and it's just too damn much to even think about so you sit there and scroll tumblr endlessly while getting progressively hungrier and crankier.

that difficulty increases tenfold if the steps required aren't clear to you. if you have to actually work out what they are yourself? and then go do them?

forget it!

and then--and then!--you have to retain that information. you have to remember for each plant: this is what it needs, and this is what I need to do and this is when I need to do it. the plant is not much help in this regard. the plant will not shout at you in the morning like a hungry cat, nor will it pop up a handy notification telling you when it is too dry or too wet or has had too much sun or not enough. certainly there are some indications it will give you--but you have to know how to read those, too, which brings us back to the first problem.

the amount of information you need to be able to keep in your head about a plant may not seem like very much. certainly it apparently isn't to many people, or we wouldn't have gardens in the first place. but ADHD doesn't tend to give you a choice about what knowledge you're going to be able to hold onto well enough for any of it to be useful. sometimes you can read up on something and then the moment you look away from the page, it's gone. sometimes you can take in the information, but will only be able to recall it at erratic times, which will almost never be when you actually need to do so. and sometimes you will absorb an astounding amount of information, but this will almost always be about something like Pokemon which has fairly limited applications for everyday life. if I could remember and reliably access as much information about my plants as I can about the making of the Lord of the Rings movies, I'd never be in this mess in the first place.

suffice to say, while remembering to water the dang things was a significant problem, it certainly wasn't the only one.

and that, I eventually realized, was why I could garden just fine at the college greenhouses, but couldn't seem to do so on my own. it wasn't--as I'd started to suspect--that I had some foul curse on me that killed everything I touched. I didn't radiate something that killed off any plants in my radius. and I wasn't incapable of doing the tasks required, or of understanding what those tasks were and why they were important. it was figuring it all out for myself, and then remembering it, that was getting in my way. when I showed up to work at the greenhouses, I was told what I needed to do that day, and if I didn't know how to do it, I'd be told that. and, barring the occasional problem of heat sickness or sensory overload while dumping food waste in the compost piles, I could go do the job just fine.

when I look back at that semester, I realize it didn't only teach me that I could do gardening, and get enjoyment out of it. one thing I will tell you about why I left my previous labor position: part of why I was miserable there is that I often wasn't given clear instructions--sometimes not any instructions--and thus spent a lot of time feeling miserably incompetent and behind everyone else. I'd have to choose between asking for clarification on something I seemed to be expected to know how to do, or risk doing it wrong and getting told off for it.

god bless my supervisor at the greenhouse! before giving me any new task she'd check to make sure I knew and fully understood what to do. she made it clear that I could ask questions, and if I did misunderstand something she didn't take me to task for it, just explained what I'd done wrong and how to do it right. it has become a valuable experience to have had as I am still trying to work out what I need to do things without so much pain and anguish over it.

when it comes to gardening, I don't have much in the way of answers yet. I don't know the secret key to dealing with all of these problems well enough to keep my houseplants alive and healthy. I'm still working on that. I'm sure there is an answer. I suspect it may involve a lot of writing things down, and possibly a lot of sticky notes with "WATER ME" written on them.

but I think--for all that I have tried and failed at this many times by now--

I think I'd like to try again.

so maybe I will plant some flowers this week.

and we will see what happens.

#nonfiction #monday thing #monday thing april 27

14 notes · View notes

thefandomlesbian · 4 years

Note

“You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?” From one of the Drabble lists. Pre-seven wonders. Foxxay :)

Thank you so much for the prompt!

Read here on AO3!

“I'd do anything for you

But it's too late and I know I'm making

A fool, a fool of myself

But I can't conceal the way that I feel.” -Fleetwood Mac, “The Way I Feel”

Misty lifted her head as she crossed the yard from the greenhouse to the academy. She climbed the steps and slipped out of her shoes, leaving them on the porch so she wouldn’t track anything gross into the house. Miss Robichaux’s was by far the nicest building Misty had ever occupied, and the last thing she wanted to do was tarnish it. She had dirt up to her wrists and streaks all over her clothes. I gotta shower. Before, it never would’ve bothered her, but she had Cordelia to impress now--especially since Myrtle had given her new eyes. I really liked her the way she was… But I might like her even more, now. A blush ran up Misty’s neck. She couldn’t let herself think too much about it; otherwise, Cordelia would See her thoughts.

Drumming her way up the stairs, Misty noted the silence of the house, the absence of other people. Is anybody else even home? she wondered. But she shrugged off the notion. She was used to being alone, even if the house frightened her more than any night in the woods ever had. She gathered up a towel and headed to the bathroom, locking the door behind her, and then she stripped herself of her dirty clothes, dropping them in the hamper and cranking on the hot water of the shower.

She had missed the showers of civilization during her days in the swamp. Everything else about society, she could live without--even electricity was optional for somebody who knew how to grow and wash vegetables and start a fire. But the goat soap she stole from the old lady a few miles up the road from her house just couldn’t touch the chemical smelly-good stuff the girls here liked to use, and the swamp water would never be as clean as the steaming hot flow from the shower tap. Stepping under the scalding stream, Misty shivered, relishing in the feeling of it reddening her skin. She liked to feel herself swell under the water. If it didn’t hurt, it wasn’t hot enough.

She hadn’t felt that way before. But now, she could never truly shake the stench of the smoke and her own rotting, toasted flesh from her body, no matter how fresh her new skin. The odor haunted her and reared up when she least expected it. She tried to smother it with Madison’s perfumes and colognes and Zoe’s lotions, but it sprung back up, nothing wholly eliminating it.

Scrubbing herself with a washcloth and vigorously scrubbing her scalp, Misty picked through her curls under the running water and washed the dirt from her leg hair where it had gotten caught and matted. It only took a few minutes for her to feel clean, the fruity and flowery scents of women’s soap surrounding her, and she stepped out, patting herself dry with a towel. She dug around under the cabinet. They’re gonna find out I’m stealing their stuff, eventually. She would handle that when they caught her. Pulling out a tube of Bath and Body Works, she opened the cap and smelled it. “Oh, yummy.” She didn’t even bother to read the bottle as she squeezed out a copious amount of it into her hands and began to rub it all over herself, anywhere she had patted dry, and let the lotion butter up her skin. As she absorbed the scents, she tilted her head back. Oh, she savored this feeling.

Looking around, Misty surveyed the steamy room for her clean clothes, only to find they weren’t there. I must’ve forgot them. She wrapped her towel around herself and opened the door, stepping out into the hall, face-to-face with Cordelia. “Eep.” She peeped the quiet sound as she blinked at the older woman. Oh, boy. I’m naked. Her throat closed up. I’m naked in front of Cordelia. Trying to push her crush down inside her, she gulped. “Er--Miss Cordelia. Sorry, I just forgot my clothes… I didn’t think anybody was home.”

Cordelia’s eyes widened. “Oh--it’s just us. Don’t ask me where everybody else is, though. Nobody tells me anything. I was looking for you. I cooked dinner.” She smiled. Her odd eyes, the one blue and one brown, darted up and down Misty’s exposed body. I’m pretending I didn’t notice her just check me out. Misty flushed, clutching her towel tighter around herself so her knuckles blanched white. She couldn’t judge; after all, Cordelia had been blind when they met, and she had only seen Misty with her eyes a handful of times. “I suppose I should let you go get dressed.”

Misty grinned. “Yeah, I might appreciate that.”

Stepping out of the way, Cordelia let her pass. “You smell good.”

Misty beamed. “Thanks!” Her heart fluttered. She fumbled around with her bedroom door, sliding in and closing it behind her before she gave a gleeful, relieved sigh.

In a few minutes, she clad herself in some fresh clothes--clothes which were probably altogether too dressy for her to be wearing around the house. She hadn’t been able to salvage much from her old life, mostly things she could steal and barter for at the Cajun markets where she trusted no one would recognize her. This left her choice of outfits somewhat barren. She wiggled her body into a dress she had borrowed from Madison, complete with tall boots, and she carefully picked through her hair so it looked neatly careless.

Cordelia was at the end of the hall, staring down the staircase, a forlorn look on her face. Misty approached her from behind. She’s so pretty. Her caramel-colored hair matched the wood floors, and her white blouse let just a hint of her bra underneath appear through the sheer fabric. Her jeans were skin-tight. Cordelia hung her head. Misty frowned, touching a hand to the small of Cordelia’s back. Cordelia flinched away in surprise, a hand fluttering over her chest, as her eyes widened in fear. For a moment, Misty didn’t see herself reflected in Cordelia’s odd eyes, but someone else. “Oh--” Her voice was breathless. “Misty. You startled me.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. Are you alright? You’re looking a little downtrodden.”

Nodding, Cordelia waved off her feelings. “I’m fine,” she assuaged. Misty wasn’t sure she believed her, but she gave a slight smile. “C’mon. I cooked.” As she headed down the stairs, Misty followed, and the first thing that met Misty’s nose was the smell of… cooked meat. Oh god. Misty chewed the inside of her cheek. Cordelia hadn’t told her she was planning on cooking. If she had, Misty would’ve given her a heads up. Maybe there’ll be a vegetable on the side. Something I can eat.

There wasn’t. As Misty entered the kitchen, a large, beautiful lasagna awaited her. Can I, like, scrape the meat out of it? “This is beautiful, Miss Cordelia,” she complimented. No. Too many layers. She’d get suspicious. She didn’t want Cordelia to think she was ungrateful. Misty was from a place where she ate what was put in front of her or she didn’t get to eat, and while she doubted Cordelia would institute such strict rules, she feared a refusal to eat what was cooked would hurt her feelings.

“Thank you.”

Resigning herself to her fate, Misty cut the smallest piece of lasagna she could manage. I’m just going to have to be an adult and eat it. Was it dishonest for her to eat it without telling Cordelia? What if this started a trend? What if she and Cordelia fell in love and Misty started eating meat because she was afraid to tell her and ten years from now they were married and she finally confessed that she used to be a vegetarian and it destroyed Cordelia’s trust in her and they got a divorce? Okay, that’s taking it a little far. Licking her lips, Misty got a bottle of water and sat down at the table across from Cordelia, staring down at the lasagna.

Cordelia sat, as well. “So…” Misty looked up at her. “How are you liking things here?”

Misty hurried to cut the lasagna into pieces with her fork, hoping it would make it look like less. I haven’t even tasted it yet. It may be fine. Maybe I can just eat it and then tell her that I don’t eat meat afterward, for future reference. “I, um… Well, it’s a lot better than getting shot at in the swamp in the middle of the night and running around in the slime wearing a nighty.”

Giving a soft chuckle, Cordelia shook her head. “You’re funny.” Her eyes kept darting back up to Misty, like she didn’t want to look away, and Misty felt her face warming at the notion of Cordelia staring at her. “I--I’m glad you’re here. I like having some company in the greenhouse.” Nobody was using it when I got here. “And now, for dinner.”

“It’s better than boiling vegetables with swamp water over an open flame.” At least I can eat those vegetables. Misty would not complain. She was hungry, but she could always sneak back downstairs later and eat some buttered toast or some tomatoes. “I really like being with you, Miss Cordelia.”

Cordelia tilted her head. “But?”

Blinking, Misty shrugged. “But?” she asked. “That’s it. It was a complete sentence.”

Cordelia looked just as astonished as Misty felt. “Usually when someone says something nice about me, they follow it up with a but.”

“Well, I’m not,” she reassured. Cordelia had an odd look on her face, heartfelt, tender. “I don’t know if I fit in well with everybody else.” She blinked down at her lasagna. She couldn’t take a bite while Cordelia was looking at her, just in case it made her gag. The smell of cooked meat alone made her stomach turn. “But I love being with you.”

“Thank you, Misty. That’s very sweet of you to say.” Cordelia hesitated, looking down at her own food. “I enjoy your company a lot, as well.” Now, while she’s not looking! Misty took a small nibble of the lasagna. Oh, shit, spit it out discreetly, hurry! Cordelia looked back up at her, and Misty forced herself to swallow with a dry gulp, praying she didn’t turn as green as she felt on the inside. “Are you alright? You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?”

Misty made a quiet, “Ahem,” wondering if she should tell the truth or try to lie on the spot. “I, um… I’m a vegetarian,” she confessed. She wasn’t a very good liar. Cordelia’s eyes widened with shock as Misty spoke the soft words, and desperate to keep from offending her, Misty decided to ramble instead. “My mama made me help cook the Thanksgiving turkey when I was twelve, and when I stuck my arm up its butt, it came to life and it chased me and Mama all over the house, and now whenever I eat meat, it makes me afraid it’s gonna come back to life, which I know is crazy if it’s already been chopped up and cooked, but I still have nightmares about turkey guts splattering all over the house, but I didn’t want to say anything because I really like you and what if it offended you and then we wouldn’t be married in ten years but then I thought what if we are married in ten years and you still don’t know that I’m a vegetarian and I’ve spent ten years going behind your back trying to eat raw broccoli when I’m alone and I’m basically cheating on you with kale, which is a sin all of its own?”

One could’ve heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. Misty closed her eyes tightly. “I’m just realizing I probably should’ve stopped talking after I told the Thanksgiving story.”

Cordelia laughed. Misty dared to open one eye at her, and she, too, had turned as red as the marinara sauce on the lasagna. She covered her mouth as she laughed, but the crinkles around her eyes were mirthful and filled with delight. Misty was afraid to move. “Misty--I made this meal so I could talk to you about going somewhere with me tomorrow. But, for the record… I don’t think you can cheat on me with kale.” She giggled.

“Somewhere like where?” Misty didn’t quite understand.

“Somewhere like anywhere?”

“Oh, somewhere like a date. Well, shoot, yeah, as long as there aren’t any turkey carcasses!” How did this work out in my favor?

Cordelia took the bowl of lasagna away from her. “There’s a vegan restaurant a few blocks off from Bourbon Street,” she offered, “if you’d like to go.” Misty nodded vigorously. “And we could go shopping afterward.”

“You want to go shopping with me?”

“You’re wearing Madison’s look at my legs dress.”

As she stood, Misty looked down at it. It did, indeed, leave very little to the imagination. “Well, I reckon I am. I didn’t know it had a name.” She left the kitchen table and took the plate from Cordelia. “Let me. It’s my mess.” As she passed, Cordelia’s hand brushed down the small of her back and then just a little lower, sending lovely tingles over her entire body. Yep, it’s my mess.

9 notes · View notes

this-lioness · 4 years

Text

Weekend Update, Admittedly a Bit Late

I am in a mood today, so forgive me for just brain dumping. Hoping it will improve my outlook.

Well, we put off both sushi-making and counter-refinishing this weekend because Saturday was going to be (and was) so, so nice. We did get sushi from Q-Mart, which satisifed me just fine.

We were on a hunt for dwarf cherry trees, but the overall pickings for fruit trees of any kind are pathetic right now. I suspect everyone is gussying up their back yards right now, hence the shortage. Failing that, I’ve since ordered something called a “columnar apple tree”, which we should be able to grow in pots in the back. We ordered one so far, and will get another -- of a slightly different variety -- once they’re back in stock, so they’ll be able to cross-pollinate.

Picked up some additional goodies for the garden, and filled up those five garden bags I got off Amazon. Really liking those, I think next year I’ll get more of those instead of the buckets.

So right now we’re growing the following: Regular tomatoes (x2) Candyland tomatoes Red bell peppers (x2) Eggplant (x3) Zucchini Cucumber Pinto beans Corn Jalapenos Tobasco peppers Watermelon Acorn squash Onions (still not sure what kind, but I guess we’ll find out!) Parsley, Oregano, Basil and Catnip Sweet mint and chocolate mint Lavender Citronella Strawberries Plus the resident blackberries, raspberries and blueberries.

We still have the fig tree, and it still appears to be alive, but it’s in an extended dormancy. It would be nice if it leafed out and sprang back, but we really don’t know what’s up with it.

The new garden bench arrived as well, so while Marc was assembling it I scrubbed the old one back to a nice bright white and we brought it over to my Mom’s, along with a big hanging flower basket for the front. This weekend we’re going to go over and install some white lattice around the front porch, and I’m going to power-wash the siding. You can see a certain pride of home ownership in them now, which feels nice. Jim wanted more flower baskets because a neighbor across the street had some out, and he needed to show them up. Her veggies and herbs appear to be doing pretty well, too.

Their freezer came in yesterday! We brought it over and got it all set up, so some time this week I’ll probably take my Mom to BJs to stock up on Stouffer’s meals, which she is already excited about. She’s really keen to use it, which makes me happy. She’s also going to go through all her Christmas ornaments and sort out a smaller quantity to keep so that we can sell the rest. I actually plan on doing the same with ours tonight. More room in the attic, less to fuss with at Christmas.

Jim is not walking very well, in part because he’s 86 and in part because he absolutely refuses to do any kind of exercises or physical therapy that would actually help him regain some mobility. He’s finally conceded to a transport chair, so I spent quite a bit of time researching and pricing them. They sell basic ones at Walmart for like $150, but he’s 6′2″ and with long legs, so most anything “regular” doesn’t fit him. It also has to be collapsible and light enough for a 5′1″ woman (that’s me) to get it into and out of her trunk without too much hassle.

I (think I) finally found one that will fit him comfortably, however, and now it’s on order.

With any luck he’ll like it more than he hates it, and we’ll be able to take him to the lake and for little outings. At the worst he’ll despite it but he’ll suck it up for short trips to the doctor.

The greenhouse arrived today as well, and Marc has snuck off to start the assembly ahead of some expected wind and rain. We’re also waiting on the delivery of a small fountain / water spout for the front pond, as the original is really at the end of its lifespan.

Oh, that’s the other thing! While we were out looking for cherry trees we found a “bird feeding station” at one of the nurseries. They’re normally between $400 - $500 online, but this one was just $220, and I talked them down to $200.

Basically it’s an iron arbor with some miscellaneous bits and pieces to hold bird feeders. Instead we installed it in the back, straddling two of the blackberry beds, and are using it to hang any veggies that we don’t have room for on the ground (as well as the catnip, to keep it from getting loved to death.)

The berries are coming along nicely, in a bit of a bid for who wants to ripen first. Marc helped me assemble some home-made bird scares out of CDs, tin-foil and laminated brightly-colored paper with drawn-on eyes. I hope it works, although once things start ripening I may need to keep a closer eye on things. I am highly suspicious of birds.

Just the same, I cleaned out two of our old feeders, bought two more, and we filled them and hung them out front for the birds to enjoy. Maybe if we keep them fat on seed they won’t fuss around in the back (although I suspect Fidget has a lot to do with that as well.)

It’s been really nice to see the garden growing... little plants I had doubts about are getting tall and plucky. They love to grow. Sometimes we just like to walk around and check on everything, identifying the new bugs that are showing up to pollinate or just live in this tiny ecosystem we made. My cityboy husband marvels on the regular how much he’s learned, and how much he loves the garden, its maintenance and care.

I have been having some... health frustrations for the past year and change. They’re not serious, that I know of, but they have been greatly affecting my sense of self and well-being, and as time goes on and they don’t resolve it’s just getting more and more stressed out. The only medical solution may be worse than the problem itself, so I’ve spent a lot of time today trying to get hold of a doctor or counselor or someone who can point me in the right direction, and won’t just keep giving the same trite advice without actually running tests on me. I almost bit the bullet and took the damn pill they were recommending, but upon calling the pharmacy discovered it’s almost $120 a month. For something that 1) May not work and 2) May actually make me feel worse. Yay.

So no.

I have a virtual visit with an endocrinologist on the 22nd, so we’ll see how that goes. I’m tired of feeling like I’m living in someone else’s body, and that everyone’s response is basically to shrug and say, “Oh well, guess you should just suck it up forever.”

Today I made some banana applesauce muffins, and they were good.

Other than that, everything seems to be well. Cats are fat and obnoxious and happy. So are we, I suppose!

#personal

2 notes · View notes

blankdblank · 5 years

Text

Anaticula Pt 7

Hermione enters! Blowing through to the second year to keep the story going.

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 -

Tags –

Tag All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars

Voted for me to post -

@theincaprincess, @inhabitant-of-the-void, @emrfangirl

…

“So let me get this straight-…” Regulus groaned in your passing the kitchen. You walked towards the stairs leaving Neville snuggled up comfortably reading through his latest book on Herbology while you went to change out of your stiff clothes still partially frozen from your hour long snow battle with Harry, Ginny and Ron. A clear tie had to be called before you would all come inside and Neville had to practically be peeled off your leg from his near fall in the snow covered fountain. Here in your bubble charm protected manor out in the middle of the vast ranges now buried in feet of snow while a blizzard raged outside.

After you had been tasked to help the twins fix the cocoa and stew when they had been torn from their final touches on an essay due when you returned for extra credit. The whole while all you could think of was the Longbottom were coming, the Tonks were coming and even Lucius had wiggled himself an invite playing his wife’s maiden name to do so. Your father’s side would all practically be here and that simply left the Dursleys.

Petunia had lost her sisters and according to the muggle world, you. That sting dug even deeper and seated at your desk in your room you spotted your owl peeking up as soon as you picked up your pen. Her beak worked at the door to her cage she freed herself from and she hopped out and trotted over to you.

On the paper you brought out you wrote simply,

‘Aunt Petunia,

I know this may come as a shock but for the past eight years I have been living under a fake name with disguises to protect me. Those were left behind when I got accepted into Hogwarts though. This comes way out of the blue, however, I simply hoped to wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Maybe one day if you are willing we might meet up for tea get to know one another.’

Wetting your lips you signed your name then shifted your gaze and found a photograph of you from today, seated in the snow beside your uncle Regulus crafting a giant Cerberus out of snow, both giggling at its refusal to sit still. Carefully you folded the letter around it and sealed it. An enchanted pouch was added around your owls back and chest to help keep her safe in the distance through any bout of weather. A pat on the head later you opened your window and watched her soar out into the distance growing smaller by the second.

Changed into a fresh pair of pajamas and a thick sweater matching your socks you were down again to snuggle up to Neville’s side to hear all about the plants he found the most interesting. These would all be from the regions you would trek through on your summer break with Regulus and the Twins, again returning to your collecting rare venoms.

All of which only adding to your amassed credits for your Magical Creatures youth program the three of you had been part of for years now run by the Ministry. No matter Fudge’s problems with you those venoms came back with vastly little risks compared to when others were sent for them. You were needed and paid fairly handsomely by the companies in charge of brewing up the antivenoms you collected for.

With a promised list of seeds and cuttings you would return with to be added to your vast greenhouses you helped Neville to tend to. Bedtime came soon enough and you were back again in your own bed fairly early knowing you had an appointment the following day.

Between the Twins you were bundled up and hatted with your curls tucked in a long braid down your back with your curly bangs tucked behind your ear. Through the doorway on Grimmauld street you headed off to your right and paused at the base of the stairs clapping your hands over your mouth to muffle your loud squeaking laughter as the Twins loudly snorted and laughed around you at Bill and Charlie both slipping on the ice and stumbling oh so ungracefully to the bottom of the steps. Groaning lowly they jumped up and brushed themselves off narrowing their eyes at you three in your turns to lead the way off to your appointments.

The pale yellow waiting room folded around you and for the first time you would be arriving as yourself, though with your normal black eyebrows and hair showing at the roots to give the impression you had dyed it the silvery blue color it bore. All over your stagnantly purple eyes. Easily you wrote out your name and thanks to an earlier drop in by Remus with an allowed charm to swap out your name on all your dental records you took your seat and waited.

As it went the Grangers seemed nice enough, though each time you came their daughter seemed to have her attention fixed on you instead of the books they kept trying to remind her to read. Another hopeful pair wishing for a great future for their child it seemed, though halfway through your cleanings an unruly bird broke through a half cracked window knocking over a bouquet of flowers.

One sneeze from their daughter was all it took and all the furniture started floating. With wide eyes Bill and Charlie hurried through the building ensuring only the parents and child were there before they drew their wands muttering the counter spell. The panic of the parents ceased while the girls cheeks stopped halfway to tomato red and she looked at you all hopefully with her bright blue eyes. At your side Mr Granger peered down at you as you said to his daughter, “Bet you thought you were the only one that could do that, huh?”

She nodded and neared your chair as you extended your hand, “Jaqi Black.”

A proud grin spread across her face firing back, “Hermione Granger.” With a reach up to shift an unruly string of curls that had slid free from her braided bun.

Mr Granger, “You, you can do that?”

You nodded and Charlie added, “You wouldn’t happen to have an odd relative up your family tree, likes solitary life, seems a bit shifty when having others over or sharing about their jobs or education?”

He nodded, “My great Uncle.”

Charlie grinned and sat down as he continued to finish your cleaning, helping you up as Bill finished, “Well we all go to Hogwarts. Off for the holidays. No doubt if her sneezes are that powerful she’ll be getting a letter.”

Out of the chair you called K mentally and had him fetch two books, both of which you handed over to Hermione with a soft grin, “You’re my cousins age, so when you turn eleven you should all be in the same year. Now, here’s a Muggles guide to magic, sort of an introduction to our world. And this one is Hogwarts : A History, obviously the history of our school.”

On your feet Mrs Granger asked weakly in a bear hopeful tone, “Your parents can do magic as well?”

You nodded, “Ya, um, here,” you turned grabbing one of their cards to write down the enchanted muggle phone in your home, “I know it looks like an odd number, but it rings at our home. You can call anytime you need help, like if the furniture floats again, and also you could come by for tea, or, cocoa, whichever and you can talk to them about it instead of us Friday would be good, they’ll all be home. If you’d prefer.” The card was cradled and they grinned helping you to make your next appointments for another checkup and then watched you head out the door with another thanks and a beaming grin from Hermione before she rushed back to her seat to begin reading her gifted books.

Free of the steps without a fumble this time you all chatted in your trips to the shops nearby. All the added guests meant you needed extra presents. A point Charlie used to his advantage for more time with you at your side outside of school grounds and your parents’ watchful eye. Thankfully two magic shops were nearby passing easily for muggle ones, mainly selling muggle goods but able to be paid for with wizard money, a common stop for those mixing between worlds. Books, odd figurines, a couple interesting hats and as many blankets as you could manage later everyone would have at least one gift, the Malfoys getting the oddest, except for Draco, who would be getting a full set of Peter Pan tales complete with enchanted copies of the Animated Peter Pan film.

“Alright, which one of you cast a spell in front of a muggle?”

Remus’ hands were planted on his hips and Charlie answered, “In our defense you said we could go unsupervised.”

Bill swatted his arm and added, “The Dentists little girl sneezed and the furniture started floating. We just righted it.”

Regulus shifted a bit more out from behind the couch he was lounging on, “Muggle born?”

You all nodded and the twins added with you, “She looked about in tears.”

Regulus nodded and stood up moving to the phone, “I’ll call in the report then.”

Sirius, who was leaning against the wall moved closer to peek into one of your bags, “You explained it to them?”

You nodded, “Even gave her the typical intro book and the one on Hogwarts history. You should have seen it, such a powerful spell from a sneeze.”

Remus, “Any other patients?”

Bill shook his head and Charlie answered, “We made sure it was clear.” Then he chuckled and added, “Expect a call, Jaqi invited them to cocoa or tea.”

Sirius chuckled and leaned in kissing your forehead then asked, “Who gets the cow figurine?”

“Uncle Lucius.” That made him chortle and Remus chuckle through Regulus’ loud laugh in the other room, “Just thought of him.”

Sirius grinned eyeing the upright cow in a tuxedo jacket with a monocle, top hat and cane. “I am certain he will love it. And for Narcissa?”

“Um, she always had this peacock pin on, so I found this fuzzy blanket with one on it.”

Sirius guides you in to help you set it all out to wrap properly and add under the massive tree in the main sitting room already Christmas themed overlooking the glass wall exposing the mountains you were hidden inside across from the homier one they had been resting in after work. “She will adore it then.”

“And I found these Peter Pan books for Draco and an enchanted version of the muggle animated version.”

Remus nodded, “No doubt we could also play the Robin Williams version after dinner as well.”

“Exactly.”

Regulus entered the room stating, “Alright, related the event in question. It matches the reports from the walk in they sent to inspect the Dentists and their daughter, who has been added to the list of discovered Muggleborns.”

Your grin grew, “Good. She seemed so happy.”

Fred, “No doubt a lot of kids her age aren’t levitating things with a sneeze.”

George, “At least now she can bond with Neville, seems bookish like us. Ron n Harry might need some coaxing to be buddies first.”

“Here is your tea and your cocoa.” Sirius grinned at Hermione as she peered around the house then grinned when she saw you walking into the room briskly.

“Sorry, snakes were a bit unruly today. Draft somewhere…”

Mr Granger’s brows rose, “Snakes?”

Sirius nodded as Regulus answered, “Yes, part of my job, me and the triplets go to search out rare snakes and collect their venoms to sell and for antivenoms.”

Mr Granger, “You take children?”

You grinned at him, “I can talk to snakes. Not so dangerous.”

Mrs Granger didn’t blink as she asked, “You can talk to snakes? Is that common?”

“Oh, I have a great Uncle that can talk to cockatoos.” You wet your lips then added, “I’m not being a smart ass, they really do talk. Their language sort of sounds like Yiddish.”

Sirius added, “Speaking to certain animals are mainly passed down by blood. Jaqi inherited it from her mother.”

You grinned at Hermione saying, “Why don’t I show you the library, my cousin Neville’s in there.”

She glanced at her parents who gave her a nod and cradled her cup and stood to walk with you as Mrs Granger asked, “And is her mother at work?”

Sirius drew in a breath and as you left the room you heard, “No, there um, there was a war, a few years after Jaqi was born-.”

Hermione glanced up at you stirring another grin from you and she said, “Thank you.”

You shook your head, “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I really thought I would have to learn all this alone.”

Weakly you chuckled and then paused, “I should warn you about one thing though.” She nodded, “My family is very old, and very prejudiced.” She nodded again tentatively, “Up until about my father’s generation was the idea of associating with Muggles considered. Now, my mom, she was adopted by a muggle family, so please don’t take this the wrong way. The Weasleys all love muggles, hell their father’s entire job has to do with muggles. Though when you get to school there will be students who will treat you differently, even be cruel to you for being muggleborn.”

With another confident nod she replied, “I will bear it. To learn all I can.”

“I promise you, when you get there I’ll do my best to look out for you. The Weasleys too,” your head tilted for a moment, “Though maybe not Ron right away, him and my cousin Harry tend to keep to themselves obsessing over Quidditch, it’s our top sport.” She nodded again and joined you in restarting your walk, “If it helps they didn’t give me such an easy time either when I started. Actually I got sorted to Slytherin and then got moved to Hufflepuff on my first night for my other cousins coming after me for being so lax on remaining pureblood and holding to their ideals.”

“Is it better now?”

Your head tilted again, “Well a group of them got expelled after our fight. Though after a while it sort of died down to occasional insults. Mainly when they fail at something or have their egos hurt.”

“When do you go back?”

“14th we ride back on the train, 15th I believe classes start again.”

“Is it difficult?”

You smirked at her, “That, is entirely dependent upon the effort you put into studying. First year isn’t normally too trying, a nudge to get you into the schedule, all working up to fifth year for the big exams, the O.W.L.S followed by the dreaded N.E.W.T.S in seventh year.”

“They don’t give tests till fifth year?”

You let out a weak giggle, “Those for fifth years help to determine which field you work in. Usually by then you’ll have an idea what you want to do, they cover a great deal of jobs available in your fourth year, and then certain jobs don’t just accept grades for OWLS you have to get a certain amount of NEWTS too.”

Through the doorway to the library a gasp came from Hermione seeing the endless bookshelves making you grin and say, “It’s enchanted to make a copy of every book ever written, all fireproof and all that, pristine copies.” Wetting your lips you guided her farther in to where Neville was lounging on a round couch and grinned up at her sheepishly and offered her a hand, “This is my cousin Neville, Neville, this is Hermione.”

Neville released her hand and said, “I’m just finishing this book on the Endlessly Crying Pickle Plant from the Sahara Dessert. All of its fruit taste like pumpkins.”

You giggled as she sat beside him as he turned to the first section showing her the pictures of it, you sat on his other side while he carried on, “You’d be surprised at just how many odd plants there are out there. Jaqi’s heading out this summer for a hammer tailed soaring sniper, it’s a form of snake bred with a scorpion, one of the meanest out there, and they live off these, she promised to bring me back a seed, I’ve already got the habitat set up in the greenhouse.” After a pause he added, “A lot of people overlook Herbology in magic, but a great deal of survival skills and even potion masters would heed the warning to master the subject. I’ve cleared out nearly three full bookshelves on the subject in here. Though they keep writing new ones so Jaqi’s bought me little ribbons I can fold in them to hang out, so I know which I’ve covered already.”

Her smile grew and she stated, “Well I won’t overlook it. I intend to learn all I can.”

His smile doubled, “Well if you ever need help with it I’ll help as best as I can. Besides, this is the best place to learn.”

A few more books were added to her supply, mainly the History of Magic book from the first year with a few good introductory books to Herbology Neville had suggested for her to borrow. All of which added to an enchanted bag and eased over her shoulder, whatever your father, uncle and Remus had told them had eased their worries from the topic of the former war. Even to the point that between your trips you had been asked if Hermione could come by for day visits while they were at work to be among kids like her near or at her age to ease her into the change. Plus while you were in school you had given her the address to the Muggle Post Office box that would direct it towards you in Hogwarts.

…

Your third day was when the Tonks arrived, a bit confused at the muggle entrance for a small hidden brownstone only housing an enchanted doorway at the end of a hall feeding into your distant shielded home. Only for them to be awed at the two days they hung around with Tonks thoroughly loving the practice pitch you had. By the next day however on Christmas Eve the Malfoys arrived. Also through the muggle entrance and ready to claim their bedrooms for the night, both quite lavish and fully stocked for them. Though for all he should be doing Draco claimed all the time he could with you, bonding with Neville instantly as he was clearly your favorite while trying to at least get to know the Weasleys and Harry.

All day you explored the library after they got too cold playing in the gardens with you. By dinner you had been cornered with an odd suggestion, looking you straight in the eye Lucius said, “Surely you could find time for Draco to come and visit during your summer break.” His eyes turned to Regulus, “He does hate it when we have to bring him along on our work trips.”

Regulus glanced at you and nodded, “Sure. The more the merrier. We would love to keep little Draco entertained while you’re away.”

The tension was clear between your Uncles, mainly coming from Lucius, however all that dropped the moment your presents were unwrapped. The stoic face of Lucius cracked into a weak smirk as he looked over at you saying, “I will treasure it always.” Right before protectively shielding the gift against his chest from Theodore Tonk’s arm moving to draw his blanket and gift of book on paper airplanes. “I know just where to place this on my desk at work.” His smirk deepening as he eyed the blanket earning a wide grin from Narcissa while Draco’s mouth fell open for a loud gasp that brought on a full tackling hug complete with muffled thanks into your shoulder making you giggle.

Though all that tension was gone and after watching the film pre chosen for the awed boy in love with Peter Pan and his world you were all off to bed. Breakfast followed and still all in your pajamas a couple hours later lounging in the sitting room as Draco watched te animated version of the film he was gifted beside you all eyes turned to Frank and Alice when they arrived. The stoic pair greeted their son and accepted the tea offered. Both sheepishly asking random questions until an innocent comment on the flowers they had passed on the way leading Neville into a spilling conversation on all he’d read bringing on a trip for the pair to be pulled into the greenhouse where they both gasped seeing all they boy had accomplished so far in his self taught studies. A timid common interest eased the door open for a possible friendship between the trio and by the time they had left Neville had calmed that the plan wasn’t to take him away from the only home he knew.

…

The mingle of relatives and the few visits from Hermione before her muggle school started up classes again had ended and two weeks after another tug away from sight by Charlie, where you were wished a happy new year with another stolen kiss, you were back at the station again. Peering over Bill’s arm at the extra bundle of books he had borrowed from your library you asked him with a grin, “I thought you were taking it easy this year.”

With a shrug he said, “Seven NEWTS can’t be as difficult as all twelve OWLS.”

You nodded and giggled, “I’m not certain it wouldn’t be. There have been some to have panic attacks with three to study for you know.”

He nodded and slung his arm around your shoulders, “That’s why, my dearest baby sister, I am going to hire you as my study buddy.” Making you giggle, “All the sour skypops and whistling moonhips I can manage on my trips to Hogsmaede.”

Poking him in the stomach in the walk from the luggage car to your first year car you said, “You are lucky I have a weakness for taking on impossible tasks. Seven NEWTS to study for in barely five months.”

“Best sister ever!” He said with his hands up easing through his hair in his turning walk back to the cars up front for sixth and seventh years while Charlie chuckled tugging him along easing his fingers through his again blonde hair after his own set of bribed treats to dye it back again.

The second week back held the third game of the year, Ravenclaw vs Slytherin, another loss for the new green team, though the two hour rumble gave your team seeker a good chance to stare at the object of his affection once again. Cho Chang, a fellow Seeker who shared most of your classes and with a cousin in Hufflepuff she tended to eat at your table since your second weeks project with another Ravenclaw student brought you to forcing a seat for yourself. That move triggered Cho to swap for your place conveniently next to Cedric and across from her cousin with a couple Gryffindor students sighed and moved to the Slytherin table to get a start on theirs. By Christmas the tables were free reign mainly a welcome sight for the stunned professors awed by what you had started.

February had the big show down, Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff, the Weasley players split down team lines, two brothers against one another. Though neither expected the sheer hell their younger brothers would put them through. Between the bludgers to avoid they could handle and the easily enough traded quaffle they thought they had the game sealed but in the time off and back again your practices had been well used as it unleashed all shades of crazy. The Chasers were barely able to keep their eyes on the quaffle long enough to even try and steal it between the skillfully batted bludgers leaving only Oliver seeming like he knew what he was tasked to do. All in all it wasn’t that bad of a score, matched at 50 each until Cedric managed to snatch the Snitch right in front of Charlie’s face while he was mistaking a glint of gold by Tonk’s side for the coveted flying ball.

March came with a sting granting you permission for a night at home when, by surprise, Frank and Alice had written to share that Alice was expecting another baby. An easy sting for you to mend as Neville was halfway excited to be a big brother and show a younger sibling about plants too. By that Monday he’d started a list on all he wanted to share with them and you were relaxed into your same routine of classes, studies, choir and another set of studies with Bill between random detentions and extra credits lumped on top of your quidditch practices.

Leading up to April, the best game for Slytherin yet and up against the Puffs no less. Two games in a row, as usual for the team lineups. A win by ten over the Snitch’s capture points thrilling the crowd in the close game brought on by the settling newcomers. But that game left you little comfort as Bill’s study sessions increased and grew tenser by the day only eased by you and your forced bouts of walks or swims were you reminded him to breathe and live a bit.

The morning the testing began in the third week in May all younger students were asked to be respectful of those testing and to steer clear.

Monday was Charms. Nice and easy for his best subject. A must have for a treasure hunter and curse breaker.

Tuesday was Transfiguration. Between your studies and the not so subtle hints from McGonagall he didn’t feel as stressed as he thought he would.

Wednesday was Herbology not his best subject but with your help he seemed more confident than he was in his OWLS. A subject he knew if he failed Neville would never let him hear the end of it.

Thursday was DADA. Another easy one for him.

Friday was Ancient Runes. Arguably his hardest to study for, but another mandatory one for what he wanted to pursue.

Two days off freed him to curl up and wrap around you, both in relief for what he’d accomplished on top of more cram sessions for what was left.

Potions was on the second Monday. The written part he felt he did tolerably but the practical side let him feel he’d bested it over what he had assumed he could accomplish.

With another day to spare between that and Arithmacy that Wednesday he relaxed some more and tried not to drown in the puddle of sweat Arithmacy seemed to be. A subject Charlie had to mainly tutor him in as you hadn’t understood most of it quite yet, even after trying to read the textbook for yourself. But even if he came home with a Troll in it at least he gave it a shot and his mother would be pleased for how badly he had tried to show her he was grateful for the sacrifices she and their father had made to get him through school with all necessary tools and trinkets so he could get to his graduation, even with so many other children to raise after him.

June was last with a final bout between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. A much needed win for the exhausted Gryffindors who struggled at Bill’s hectic schedule and study habits to match yours keeping most up at his irritated shouts in the common room. A study group soon growing in popularity when they knew just why the seventh year was shouting at two in the morning. The final month was theirs to relax in while the first two weeks held the OWLS for fifth years. Again silence and respect for their struggles before the final two weeks of bliss ending with yet another train ride home again.

Pt 8

#Frank and Alice Longbottom #Hermione Granger #The Grangers #NEWTS #Bill Weasley

18 notes · View notes

pastelninjaimagines · 6 years

Note

★☆♡♥♦ൠ for my boys Shino and Sai? Maybe Gaara and Hinata too? Sorry if this is alot

Shino

★ - sad headcanon

When Shino’s upset he doesn’t show it. He internalizes it and anyone looking would just assume he’s his normal stoic self. He’s definitely a bit broody and when he’s sad he’d prefer to be alone.

☆ - happy headcanon

Shino is happiest when, you guessed it, he’s surrounded by his insects. One of his favorite things to do is categorize them. Literally nothing makes him happier than spending his time doing that. He even names them. Like he remembers every single one. Idk how but it just makes him to happy to do it.

♡ - romantic headcanon

He’s clueless when it comes to romance. Doesn’t know a thing about it. What is flirting? Shino doesn’t know. He’s awkward and would rather just stay silent than talk to his crush. He’d have to swallow his pride and ask Kiba all these questions, and then question Kiba’s common sense because do you really pretend your yawning to put your arm around your crush Kiba that doesn’t sound right. He’s hopeless.

♥ - family headcanon

I think Shino would be very close with his father. His father was the one to teach him all about insects and he has fond memories as a child of him and his dad going to search for bugs with his dad watching fondly as Shino ran around with a butterfly net. Shino was a cute kid y’all. And as Shino grew up he stayed very close with his dad, who supports him in everything he does.

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

A quirk that Shino has is that every morning before he gets out of bed, he has to count to thirty. It’s his way of bracing himself for the day, especially when he knows he has to deal with a lot of people. He gives himself that thirty seconds of preparation before getting out of bed in the morning.

ൠ - random headcanon

He can’t stand the cold. At all. So to prevent himself from getting the shivers, he always bundles up, even if it’s like 90 degrees outside this boy is in a jacket, pants, he might even have gloves on and you bet he’ll be wearing layers. It’s unnatural af.

Sai

★ - sad headcanon

When Sai is sad, it comes from his feelings of emptiness and loneliness. His biggest fear is being left alone and abandoned. When in a group setting, if he feels like he’s not really apart of it, if they are ignoring him (whether subconsciously or they actually are) he just wants to fade into the background and he will leave to be by himself. Sai doesn’t have to put up with that. But he doesn’t really fall into self pity, he’ll shirk it off pretty quick and go back to his smiley self if confronted over why he left. He just doesn’t like feeling that way, like he’s not even there to people. He doesn’t deserve it.

☆ - happy headcanon

Engaging Sai in conversations about his art makes this boy glow with happiness. He can ramble about his art for hours so please, do it. He will be a blushing, giddy mess if you complement his drawings like wow he’s so cute and appreciative of it. When he’s talking about things that make him happy he’s just so smiley and radiates happiness, like make this boy’s day and let him ramble to you.

♡ - romantic headcanon

Sai is very by the book when it comes to romance. At first, he never really knew what to do, until he consulted the romance section of his local bookstore. He legitimately takes all of his ideas about romance straight from sappy romance novels. So yes, you will get fancy candlelight dinners, and walks under the moonlight, and rose petals covering the bed, because that’s what Sai is convinced what romance is.

♥ - family headcanon

Shin was the only family that Sai had ever known. Whenever there was a festival going on in town, Shin would convince Sai to sneak away from wherever Danzo was keeping them and go and enjoy the festival. These were some of Sai’s fondest memories growing up because he and his brother could act like the children they actually were, playing games, eating good food, watching the festivities. Looking back on those memories, they glow with a shiny fondness.

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

Sai is nothing but quirky. He does this thing where he rehearses full on conversations in the mirror, pretending to be in different situations, filling in what the other person would say, etc. These conversation can go on for a full thirty minutes. Like he’s for real. He also totally practices different facial expressions in the mirror too. He wants to know what he looks like when he’s smiling, laughing, scowling, etc. so that he can make the “perfect expression.”

One of Sai’s hobbies, besides painting/drawing, is practicing calligraphy. He has super good handwriting and he loves to just sit down and copy different texts into his absolutely beautiful handwriting. He finds it so relaxing and a way to be doing something without much effort.

ൠ - random headcanon

He loves being amongst nature. Not only does it fuel his creativity, but it makes him feel very peaceful. He’ll wake up early, even on his days off, to go for a morning stroll through a garden or even a wooded area, soaking up the silence and the early morning radiance of the world just waking up. It starts his day off right and when he doesn’t do this in the morning he tends to be grumpier.

Gaara

★ - sad headcanon

Pls don’t make this cinnamon roll sad. He’s too precious. He’s the type to isolate himself. He also has that single tear aesthetic going on. But he will cut himself off from literally everyone when he’s feeling particularly down. He doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want any mention of it. He’s an internalizer of his pain and doesn’t want to burden anyone with it. Eventually he’ll work himself out, normally he has to go out in the desert and work out his emotions by himself there. What he does is a mystery to everyone but him.

☆ - happy headcanon

Gaara loves hugs. Almost nothing makes him happier. He was so touch starved for most of his childhood, that literally any form of physical affection makes him so, so happy like he’s just glowy and smiley for the rest of the day when someone gives him a big hug.

♡ - romantic headcanon

Gaara is more cutesy than romantic. He loves holding his s/o’s hand, especially when they’re out in public. He also loves kissing their knuckles. He blushes so hard. Also nose kisses. Yes. He’s a cutiepie.

♥ - family headcanon

So obviously, when Gaara got older he became much closer to his two siblings. He has a very teasing relationship with Konkurow. Like they’re always on each other about one thing or another, but it’s all in good fun. Especially because Konkurow is very protective of Gaara. And so is Temari but in a much more obvious way. She is sort of Gaara’s mother figure, especially because she is the eldest sibling. They have a very good dynamic, Temari’s always reminding Gaara of things he’s forgotten and Gaara always manages to make Temari smile no matter what kind of day she’s having, he always brightens her mood.

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

Gaara really likes gardening. He’s got an army of succulents and cacti. They litter his office and his bedroom to the point that both Temari and Konkurow have said that he doesn’t have room for more. Gaara ignores this and goes and buys like 20 more to take care of. He’s got an amazing green thumb. He often volunteers in Suna’s greenhouses, and he’s somehow able to tend to plants that even professionals have a difficult time cultivating to make it so the plants are now thriving. It’s a wonder to everyone who works in the greenhouses. They don’t know how he does it.

ൠ - random headcanon

Gaara is 100% band from entering sand sculpture competitions. It just wouldn’t be fair considering he can bend the sand to any shape with his will. So no participating in sand sculpture competitions for him. But he will be a judge. And he’s very critical, except when he’s judging a kids competition. Then he always gives everyone a solid 8/10 because how could he judge children? They all have such potential. He’s a softy.

Hinata

★ - sad headcanon

Hinata is a crier. Whenever she’s sad, she tries to get as far away from prying eyes and just let the tears flow. She really can’t help it. She curls up in a ball, holding herself makes her feel better. And after she’s had a good cry, most of the bad feelings have left her, like she’s expelling all of that negativity through her tears.

☆ - happy headcanon

The littlest kind gestures make Hinata so happy. Oh you held the door open for her, you’ll receive the biggest smile. Oh, you helped her pick up something she dropped, again you are graced by an angelic smile. It just puts her in such a good mood for the rest of the day to witness any good deed being done.

♡ - romantic headcanon

Hinata is a hopeless romantic. So when she finds herself in situations that she had fantasized about for years, like a cute date, or finally kissing her s/o, she becomes a blushing mess, like as red as a tomato. She becomes so flustered it’s adorable. She also has all these ideas in her head that she herself tries to make happen, but she always ends up “messing up” aka it coming off as perfect and romantic, and then feels bad. Her s/o has to explain that everything she did was perfect and then she becomes a stuttering, blushing mess again.

♥ - family headcanon

Hinata didn’t always have such a great relationship with her dad, he was very hard on her during her childhood, until he had a change of heart and accepted her for the person she was, not who he wanted her to be. Now he’s extremely doting on her, but a little less protective of her, he lets her do her own thing. But he’s her shoulder to lean on and her comfort always and he loves when Hinata comes to consult with things going on in her life.

Hinata and Hanabi get along very well. Hanabi is also very protective of her big sister, she gets very fierce if she sees anyone disrespecting Hinata in any way. Hinata taught Hanabi how to crochet and they bond over crafting and they are their going out to eat partners. Hinata loves to go clothes shopping with Hanabi and pick out outfits for her little sister to try that the younger girl would never pick for herself. Hinata loves to get Hanabi little gifts whenever she goes shopping alone too.

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

She love to crochet, and along with that Hinata is very crafty in general. Also she’s great at baking. One of her favorite things to make is chocolates. She makes them in really cute shapes and likes to get creative with them. Her favorite thing is to make things for her friends and loved ones, so you bet for special occasions they are getting knitted sweaters with cute saying stitched on them, long crochet scarves, and homemade chocolates.

ൠ - random headcanon

Hinata is really good with small animals, like kittens, bunnies, birds, small dogs (though akamaru is the only big dog she is comfortable around). They always just find her and she could pet them for hours and hours. She sometimes takes strays home (to her father’s chagrin) and takes care of them for a while until finding them a good home.

237 notes · View notes

fluttering-by · 5 years

Text

I hope you don’t mind me going on about the garden, I’ve just wanted to do this for so long and I’m excited to finally do it 😂

And I don’t have much money at any one time so it’s going to be a really long project and it’s always nice to have one of those

I’m wanting to buy some pots and planters at first and grow potatoes, carrots and herbs, I want to start easy because despite growing up in a farming area, I have no idea how to grow my own food and it’s embarrassing 😂 My grandad grew potatoes and strawberries so I know in theory how to do those but that’s about it

I then want to add in a lemon tree and an apple tree - actually had an apple tree for as long as I can remember but for some reason the soil in the back garden isn’t good and it died. It’s still there, it just doesn’t grow apples any more.

I eventually want to buy one of those plastic greenhouses and grow strawberries and tomatoes... not sure what else. Maybe melons? ;)

I’m not sure what to do with the side and back garden though. I don’t know if anyone maybe has any ideas?

Long story short, I need a way to stop my neighbours from lifting the fence up and walking onto it at their leisure/ letting their aggressive guard dog onto it despite the fact we have cats and foster rabbits so cheers mates.

Also it’s really sloped and difficult to work with so it’s just been sort of... left 😂

There are various trees and bushes around it, and the poor retired apple tree. There also aren’t any steps so you kind of have to climb onto it and jump off 😂😂 It’s not even remotely practical

But my priority is the front garden. Also I hope I can find some cheap enough garden furniture because the old ones were broken over the years by delivery people / the twister / general wear and tear

#Personal #sorry #I'm just really enjoying talking about it #I've wanted to do this for years #maybe one day I'll get around to fixing the house #today is not that day #finally trying to be an adult and doing stuff #I don't know if giving my free reign over the garden is a good idea

1 note · View note

kyloswarstars · 6 years

Text

where do i belong?

Divergent, Oneshot Summary: Reader is confused and tries to find out where she belongs. Pairing: Eric x Reader Warning: swearing Words: 5.4K A/N: I hope this is not a disaster. Enjoy. Any similarities to other writers’ work are not intended. All ideas used in a fanfiction I post are made up in my brain (as long as it is not a request).

/////

You didn’t quite get why Amity was the way it was. Everyone was happy and all about peace and harmony. Smiling day in day out. Growing vegetables, harvesting, speaking in low voices, no running – just peacefully coexisting.

And then there was you. Internally screaming from all that rage that has built up inside over all those years. You couldn’t stand all this bullshit about living together in one big family. Your parents always used to tell you that Amity was your family, not just the people you were related by blood.

Bullshit, you thought. All of it. And you punched that bullshit out of the sandbag in front of you. Since you arrived at Dauntless after the Choosing Ceremony, you felt that shift going on inside of you. That shift you couldn’t name. There was suddenly more peace that calmed your soul than you ever had when you were still back in Amity.

„Y/N! Come.“ A hand on your shoulder stopped you from hitting relentlessly your enemy – the sandbag. Eric. With a quick glance you realised everyone else was gone. Training was already over?

„What’s going on?“ His squeezed eyes locking with yours. Capturing you like a few days ago your team captured the flag of Four’s team.

„I… I just…“ All of that rage was still seething inside of your head, your whole body. It made you unable to form eloquent sentences.

„I?“

„I was just giving everything to that stupid thing dangling down the ceiling.“

He took a deep breath, probably trying not to lose his temper. „Yeah, I saw that. What’s going on?“ And he mumbled something like ‚won’t ask you a third time‘.

Maybe you should be intimidated by his very existence. But the thing was: you weren’t. You weren’t because you came to Dauntless to be surrounded by intimidating things and people. You sucked them in like air. You thought they would make you feel like you finally belonged somewhere.

You weren’t intimidated by Eric, nor his nearly exploding muscles or his always present anger he never tried to hide. Actually in some kind of freaky way you were feeling the slightest of attraction for him. Not sexual attraction but spiritual attraction. You respected him because he was badass and never backed down. At least you didn’t see him back down since you were here. Eric was extremely unfriendly – something you could finally be too. In Amity you had glued a mask over your face. You ripped it off as soon as you let your blood drop over the hot coals of Dauntless.

„I tried to release some aggression.“

„Makes sense.“ His eyes were still locked with yours. „Now go and grab some dinner. Aggression is not the only key to fighting. Food provides energy. You’ll need that.“

You nodded and walked off to the locker room.

One cold shower later you sat down along the other initiates. They already finished dinner and went onto drinking.

/////

That week Eric told you every day to stop throwing punches to your beloved sandbag when training was over. You never noticed when Four would release the initiates to dinner. You just punched and punched and punched.

„Still aggressive?“ Erics lips curled up into a mischievous grin.

You thought about telling him what you were thinking. And you were like ‚fuck it‘ so you did. „Apparently aggression is not willing to leave me, no matter how hard I hit that fucking thing.“

„You remember what I told you, Y/N?“

„Yeah.“ Aggression is not the only key to fighting. Something your father would say if he believed in fighting – which he didn’t.

„Well, aggression may not be the only key to fighting but it sure is a good catalyst for hard punches.“ You walked side by side through the training grounds. He stopped when you passed the ring. „But aggression can also be… devastating in some situations. It blinds you, makes you vulnerable. You should learn how to control yourself better.“ He stepped onto the mat. „Fight me.“

You shook your head. Yeah, you had a lot of aggression inside of you. And yeah, you punched for hours a sandbag every day. But fuck no, you weren’t good enough to step into ring with fucking Eric-the-Dauntless-leader.

„Too weak?“ He made fun of you. „Too afraid?“ He made more fun of you because he knew it would work just the way he wanted. „Are you still an Amity?“ And it so did work.

You moved your feet onto the mat. Aggressively breathing and locking eyes with him. You were probably red like a tomato, neatly grown in Amity’s greenhouse. You hated those. And that was good because you built up even more anger thinking of tomato salad and tomatoes on sandwiches and tomatoes in every shape Amity put it in.

Then everything came naturally to you. In the past few weeks you had learned a lot about fighting, strategies and winning.

First your fist reached out for Erics face. He easily dodged that punch. He also dodged the next ones. Eric kept being passive – he didn’t attack. That made you even more furious. Your hands tried to hurt him but his body was always out of reach no matter were you two stood. Like you tried to catch a fish in it’s aquarium. It always slipped because you were so eager to get it.

Then you stepped back. In your head you tried to come up with a plan to throw him on the mat. You were small. Not to small. But a lot smaller than him. You needed to take advantage of that.

So you distracted him for a little while. Throwing punches that didn’t make any sense. You waited for that one second he was too bored by your sloppy fighting. And when it came, you made yourself small and rammed your fist in his guts – so hard you sent him to the mat.

A satisfied grin grew on your lips and you lent him a hand to get up.

„That was alright, Y/N.“

Alright was alright for you.

„Tomorrow again?“ He smiled too. It was kind of odd to see him with a genuine smile on his lips.

„Yeah.“

/////

After training started real training with Eric. He explained how you needed to train you to get through initiation. You didn’t exactly know why he wanted you to become a Dauntless member but you appreciated it and didn’t ask any questions about it.

So you two were fighting forever that evening. He didn’t stay passive like he did yesterday. He attacked. And that took everything you had. At some point you were losing your temper because Eric hit your nose again and again. It was bleeding like the water was rushing down the chasm.

„Why the fuck can’t you let my nose be my nose? You’re a broken nose fetishist or what?“, you shouted. Training with Eric was exhausting. Way more than just hitting the sandbag. Or training with other initiates.

„What would you do if i said i am?“

„You don’t want to know, Eric.“

He smiled mischievous. Again. „Come on, hold your back up. Just because your in pain you can’t let your posture turn into that of an old woman that needs a cane.“

He asked, you answered. For another at least ten minutes you attacked him as hard as you could, working yourself through his defence and placed some punches that were fuelled by anger and aggression but not controlled by it. You controlled them. And that was the difference you learned from Eric. When you were in control you could do nearly everything when you worked hard enough.

But because Eric was Eric and this time he did fight back – you landed with a hurting back on the mat at the end of the training session.

„I’d say we’re over for today.“

You nodded in agreement, stood up and wiping away the blood of your still bleeding nose with the back of your hand.

„That was alright, Y/N. Tomorrow we’re doing this again.“

„Alright.“

„Now let’s grab some food. I’m starving.“

You both changed into some clean black clothes and headed out together. Apparently you trained too long. No sign of food available to satisfy your hungry bodies with new energy.

„Never mind“, Eric turned around and walked off. „You’re coming Y/N? If not I’m gonna eat all the stuff I have in my room on my own.“

You hesitated for a moment. Was it appropriate to go with him? Eric was still one of the leaders of Dauntless. You didn’t want to get into trouble that could cause you ending up as a factionless. But in that moment you were craving food so much that you could still care about being factionless if you were kicked out of Dauntless.

/////

Eric’s emergency-food-closet was filled with canned food, bread, peanuts and bananas. You both grabbed as much as you could.

„Over here.“ He guided you to a window, opened it with his elbow and headed out onto the roof. It had already gotten dark but that was alright. Darkness was always alright for you because you had to stand in the burning sun for years when you were in Amity. Not that you dreaded the sun or working in general. You just dreaded standing in the sun and working Amity work.

You didn’t talk while you ate. You for sure didn’t dare to say something. What if you asked a question and Eric flipped? That wouldn’t end good.

Canned beans with bread and peanuts with bananas never tasted that good. Ever. You were kind of losing yourself in euphoria because of food and new energy flooding your worn out body and food and new collected knowledge and food.

„Why did you leave Amity?“ Eric getting personal? Huh.

„I didn’t belong there.“

Eric hmmmmmd and stopped chewing. „And you belong to Dauntless?“

You shrugged and tried to sound casually. „Yup.“ You didn’t want him to know that you desperately wanted to be a Dauntless. For years you couldn’t think about something else than finally getting into Dauntless and become something you’re cut out for: guarding the fence. Why you knew you were supposed to do this? Your whole life was spent by doing things in an environment that insisted on peaceful interaction to function as a faction. But you simply didn’t have it in you. Your sister did. Your three brothers did. But you wanted to use your hands differently. You wanted to hold a gun, to throw punches if it needs to be, to use your brain as a weapon – not for growing tomatoes.

Also you wanted to be in Dauntless because you were tired of wearing red and yellow. You wanted black.

„Then you’d better get in.“

/////

Weeks passed and you got in. Months passed and you got your job. You were guarding the fence. You were good at it. You enjoyed it.

More months passed and your body was covered in tattoos and some piercings.

After a year or so you got promoted. First you didn’t want to agree because you didn’t want to leave the fence, but then you did. You started taking responsibility for ten to twenty people under you, guarding trains loaded with goods departing Amity grounds.

It was strange to come back to Amity, seeing all that people you used to be around. Eventually at some point seeing your siblings. And one day your mother. She smiled at you – she hasn’t taken it personally that you left, told you all the time it was your own decision what to do with your life. She smiled at you, started walking towards you. But you couldn’t do this. With your gun in aiming position you turned around and erased her out of your vision. You had a job to do.

That was honestly your first bad day since you started your initiation nearly two years ago. A really bad fucked up day. Besides that one where you took a bullet.

For the rest of your working hours you couldn’t concentrate, afraid your mother would come up and try to speak to you. You weren’t able to handle this if she would. Good for you she didn’t. Maybe your appearance was to intimidating.

When the train started to move back to the city, breathing was a torture.

When you were back at Dauntless you gave final instructions to your people then disappearing to your room. You threw your heavy gear onto the floor and stripped down to your underwear and then put on your sports wear. Heading straight for your beloved sandbag in the big training hall. Everyone knew it was yours, no one ever dared to train there. So you punched it heavy. For hours. But nothing changed. You had seen your mother today and that was… shit. You always thought about what you had left behind when you came to Dauntless. Never who you left behind.

Your knuckles tried to punch it out. That you were missing your mother, your family. Even if they were Amity through and through. Even if you weren’t supposed to miss them because faction before blood.

„Y/N!“ Erics voice shouted through the hall. You didn’t stop. „One of your people told me you were distracted and didn’t fulfil your duty properly.“

You didn’t react. You just punched the sandbag again and again. Faster with every punch. „Y/N, I’m talking to you as a leader of Dauntless. Not as your mate.“ He could suck your not existing dick. You didn’t answer him, you just threw wild punches.

„Y/N.“ Eric came around and grabbed the sandbag, forcing you to look at him. You were raging and could hardly keep your cool. „What happened?“, he asked and let go off the sandbag. As soon as he stood in front of you, you pushed him. He stumbled back. Only one step but still. You pushed him again. And again. Then you started to hit him against his broad chest. As long until he grabbed your wrists.

„You wanna fight, huh?“

„Hell yeah.“

Eric dragged you to one of the mats and then you two crushed into each other. Since your initiation your fighting had changed a lot. Back then you were alright. Now you were a fucking machine. Muscles everywhere that burned to hit Eric. To bring him pain. He could deal with that. You couldn’t deal with what was going on inside of your head.

„What happened?“ Eric’s arm around your neck, pushing you down. You slammed your elbow into his balls, grabbed his arm, turned it and threw him to the ground. You could hold yourself on top of him for a few seconds, then he rolled the two of you around, him on top and staying there. „Tell me.“

„I can’t.“

„Wrong. You don’t want to.“ Now he wasn’t speaking to you as a leader of Dauntless anymore. He was talking to you as your friend he became over the years.

„Yeah, you’re fucking right, Eric. I don’t want to talk to you about bullshit that is only my business.“

Eric didn’t think about getting off you. He just stayed where he was and leaned back. Unimpressed by your shifting under him to get free.

„I guess you’re right, Y/N. I totally shouldn’t try to help my friend with her problems. Especially not as a leader of her faction that needs to make sure his people can do their work they’re supposed to do.“

You hoped he could sense your fury towards him. Eric was right, of course, but you wouldn’t admit it. Not in his presence. „Get off me, Eric.“ His dull, cold eyes didn’t change. Words wouldn’t get him to do what you wanted.

Being friends with Eric wasn’t like being friends with someone else in Dauntless. The friendship with Eric was strange. He transferred from Erudite and most of the people tend to forget about that. But you didn’t because Eric and you had a tight bond, and you saw through his surface of anger and sheer force. You knew how smart he was, how sneaky, and how most of his actions were guided by that.

You always tried not to get too attached to him. Because after all you were just friends, no matter how close. When he was sitting on you like that right now you couldn’t deny that at some point you had evolved feelings for him. Feelings feelings. But you had learned to ignore them.

That man on top of you, giving a lesson because you fell out of roll today, wasn’t someone you could think about having a serious relationship with. Not that he wouldn’t be able to love or cherish you. But because you felt a shift again. A few weeks ago something started changing again. And today that shift broke free.

Suddenly you weren’t sure about the decision you had made two years ago. Was Dauntless the right faction for you? Amity for sure wasn’t but after two years in Dauntless it didn’t feel like you thought it would feel. Something felt wrong.

Maybe you weren’t supposed to be in any faction at all?

„You know what’s for dinner today?“ Eric still squeezed the air out of your lungs.

„Don’t make me bite you and get the fuck off now, Eric.“

„I got a feeling we’re having a steak night.“

„Eric.“ Your jaw clenched. One more word about food…

„Or burgers?“ That was it.

You hit his face with your elbow and drummed against his chest. Slurs leaving your mouth before you dug your teeth into his hand. Eric gave in and got off you. He looked satisfied at his bleeding hand. But you didn’t care about it, you just stormed off to your room. Why was he doing this all the time? Tackling you to the ground when you were fighting, sitting on top of you and then acting like he weren’t pressing the air out of your lungs at all?

Eric knocked at your door. You could tell it was him because no one knocked like him. A knock that nearly destroyed the door. He yelled your name a few times but you didn’t open.

/////

Next day you skipped breakfast. Instead you headed to the shooting range. Only to see him standing there with a gun in his hand.

„Argh, seriously?“ You turned on your heals but didn’t come far. Eric shot you. Twice. Your knees gave in and you sunk to the ground, trying to yank the darts out of your legs, that were used for playing ‚Capture the Flag‘. „What is wrong with you?“ Your voice echoed through the big room. Pain flooding your body and covering every other emotion you felt.

„You didn’t open the door.“

„So you decided to shoot me? Wonderful.“

His face didn’t flinch. Not even when he talked. That was a bad sign. „Y/N, you’ve got one chance to tell me what’s going on with you. Otherwise I can’t let you go back to work.“

„What?“

„Phil will take your place and lead your crew.“

„Eric, you can’t do this. I won’t be distracted again.“

„I can and I will.“

You learned a lot from him the past years. Also not to back down ever. So you didn’t. Just like him.

Even though your pain consumed all the concentration you had, you held your head up high.

„Alright. You will be suspended. Now get yourself ready. For the meantime you’ll be working with me.“

„Get myself ready? You just fucking shot me!“

„Neuro-stim-darts not actual bullets. Don’t let the-“

„Pain stop you. Yeah, fuck you, Eric.“

He started to leave. „Come to my office when you’re not crying anymore.“

/////

While you battled the pain that would last another few minutes, you questioned yourself why he suspended you. You didn’t knew of any other Dauntless that got punished so quickly. Not for a few minutes of distraction.

Eric was up to something, you felt it.

The day was spent at his side. And he took every chance to tell others why you were at his side. Your thoughts carried away now and then. Thinking about your position in Dauntless and what it now meant. Did you belong to Dauntless? Were you brave and fearless? Was this what you wanted?

You didn’t. You weren’t. It wasn’t.

Eric released you late at night. Every step you took towards your room, your head grew lighter thinking about what you would do later that night.

You changed clothes. Black mid heavy gear, arming yourself with a gun you hid in your waistband. Everything else would be left behind.

You couldn’t be in Dauntless anymore. Not only for the fact that you got suspended and degraded. More so because you weren’t meant to be in any faction at all. You belonged somewhere where it didn’t matter what kind of person you were. Where there were no rules that prescribed who you were supposed to be.

And the only place you could think of was with the factionless.

/////

Your door stood wide open. Eric couldn’t sleep because he felt guilty and wanted to try to speak to you again. The whole day you looked at him like you wanted to cut his throat open. But there was also something else in your eyes. Something deeper.

You grew to be his friend. Actually his best friend. He couldn’t stand when you were not talking to him. You were not much of a talking person with everyone else, but with him you never kept your mouth shut.

Eric checked your living quarters. No sign of you. Everything was where it used to be. He checked your closet where you kept you real important stuff.

Gear and gun were missing. „She fucking went off.“

/////

Your feet carried you into the city with no exact plan where to go. Just everywhere else than Dauntless. An elderly woman approached you in a dark alley. Her eyes took every detail of you. „You’re a Dauntless.“ It wasn’t a question. „What are you doing outta here on your own?“

Well, that was a good question. „I… searching for somewhere to sleep.“

„You have a disability?“

„No.“

„Why are you outta here on your own, kid?“ She came closer, forcing you to answer with her soothing eyes.

„I guess I’m not a Dauntless anymore.“

She nodded. „A long time ago the same happened to me. Come on, let’s go home, kid.“ She patted your arm and guided you to an old warehouse.

Inside Olivia, what turned out to be her name, showed you around and got you some food and water. The warehouse didn’t have any separate rooms. It was sectioned into working area, eating area and sleeping area. Beds were made out of cardboard boxes and some blankets. Harold, another former Dauntless member, brought up some old stuff for you to sleep on tonight.

It surprised you how easy it was to get around with the factionless. How supportive and welcoming they were towards an outsider like you. A young ‚kid‘ that left her faction voluntary. And didn’t know if it belonged where those belong that belong nowhere.

Thinking about what you had done, you drifted off into a deep sleep. Deeper than it ever had been in the last years.

/////

Someone shook you awake. Two furious eyes glared down at you and hands that eventually pulled you up. Eric.

Was it only a dream? You leaving Dauntless? No, it wasn’t. Eric stood right in front of you on factionless ground.

„What the fuck are you doing here, Y/N?“

„Why are you here?“

„I’m here to come and take you back, that’s what I’m here for.“

The factionless around you knew who he was. But that didn’t stop them from intervening. Olivia came up. „You’re not gonna take her with you if she doesn’t want to.“

„Oh, I will and you better shut up!“

„Dauntless has lost it’s niveau, I see.“ Harold came up to your other side.

„If anyone wants to be shot, so be it. But you’re not gonna stop me from taking Y/N with me.“ And with that he just threw you over his shoulders, tight grip around your ass, and storming out with you.

Paralysed by his sudden appearance and what just happened, you needed a few moments to get everything back together.

„Let me down, Eric!“ You hit his back with your tight fists. He didn’t let you down. He carried you over his shoulders without saying a word.

Instead of bringing you back to Dauntless, he took you to an old, empty skyscraper. Climbing steps with you on his shoulder until you arrived on the last floor – high up above the city.

You fell hard onto the ground when he arrived with you in the middle of a destroyed penthouse. His breath was uneven. Not because of carrying you but because of his raw anger.

„Why did you leave, Y/N?“ You expected a shouting, aggressive Eric but all you got was a whispering, hurt copy of him. You’ve never seen him showing that much… emotion before. It honestly made you speechless. You couldn’t answer. You didn’t know how.

„Why did you not talk to me?“ It bugged him that you didn’t trust him enough to discuss your problems and thoughts with him. Best friends did that kind of stuff too. Not only fighting for fun till blood.

„My business, remember?“

He scoffed and mumbled obscenities.

„What now, Eric?“ You made a gesture, including your surroundings. „What did you think? Did you even think?“ The only way to react was to be harsh. „Did you think you’d kidnap me, take me to some abandoned house and punch the answers out of me?“

„Maybe that’s what I should do!“

„Maybe you could also leave me alone!“ Now the two of you shouted at full volume.

„I can’t!“ And then Eric’s lips crashed into yours. Hard and rigid and wanting. Being paralysed again you kissed back because his mouth, his tongue was too tempting not to kiss back. His hands on your lower back pressed your body against his. More than a hundred times had been your body pressed against his. But that was during fighting. In that way… it brought your mind back to reality and you pushed him away.

„Fuck’s sake, Eric.“ Your feet stepped back. Away from him. Your mind tried to understand what was happening.

„I want you to talk to me, Y/N.“ His begging voice activated something inside of you. Something you used to ignore because you were just friends. Best mates. Fighting partners. „I need you to fucking talk to me. Please.“ Please. You have never ever heard ‚please‘ or ‚thank you‘ leaving Erics mouth.

And that stupid word, overused by Amity at any given possibility, made you kiss him. His lips didn’t kiss back out of surprise but you kissed him again and then he went along with it. Eric’s hands found their place on your back again and held you close. You both lost yourself in each other, in a sweet kiss that was really everything but sweet.

You only stopped kissing when you needed fresh air in your lungs but then you instantly returned to kissing. Eric was someone you thought he never could be. Besides kissing you hard, he trailed his hands soft over your body. He made sure you were as close as possible and wouldn’t slip away.

In the end it was him breaking the kiss. Kissing your forehead and resting his chin on top of your head while he hugged you. And then you two stayed like that.

When he started to talk his chin bumped into your head but that didn’t hurt. „Why did you leave?“

„I…“ Words had never been your strength. You were more of a body person. Still you tried. „Do you remember back when I was an initiate? You asked my why I left Amity.“

You could hear his brain working and sorting through memories. „Yeah, I do. Go on.“ His voice was husky but soothing.

„I weren’t meant to be in Amity.“

„Yes, because you were destined to be a Dauntless.“ You could feel he was getting what you wanted to say but was still utterly convinced what he said.

„We disagree in that part.“ Speaking it out loud it made you really sad. You always wanted to be a Dauntless but you weren’t.

Eric let go off the embrace to look into your face. „Tell me what’s in there.“ His finger pointed to your brain.

„Two days ago I saw my mother. I turned my back on her because I couldn’t look into her eyes. I couldn’t concentrate anymore. One of those walls inside my head broke apart and I was suddenly feeling too much. I realised I didn’t belong to Amity nor Dauntless. Or to any other faction. I wanted to be somewhere where it didn’t make a difference if I knew where I belong.“

He nodded. „Okay.“ He nodded again. „Can I ask you something?“ You nodded. „What did your Aptitude Test say? Are you a Divergent?“

It was already hard to admit how you felt. You knew how Eric thought about someone being Divergent. What he thought about questioning the faction system. Still he didn’t seem to mind if you were Divergent.

„Dauntless.“

„Sure?“

„Yes. I may haven’t talked to you but I never lied to you.“

„Alright.“ Eric-the-fucking-Dauntless-leader took your hand in his and squeezed it. „See, Y/N. I would lie if I said I understand you because I know that I belong to Dauntless. The only thing I can say is that after five years in Dauntless I saw a lot of people come and go, especially initiates. You didn’t go. Well you did yesterday but eh-“

„I know what you mean, go on.“

„Right. You made it through initiation. You proofed you can be a Dauntless because you worked hard to prove it.“ He also took your other hand in his. „The thing is: you are a Dauntless. At least in my eyes. Sometimes you are even more Dauntless than Dauntless-born. I see it in you every day. You are brave, too much for your own good sometimes, you’d take a bullet for your people. You’re incredibly strong – physical and mental. You’ve overcome your fears. Well, besides that stupid phobia with spiders apparently.“ Eric chuckled. He fucking chuckled. „You know, everyone can zoom out and get distracted, that is how people work. Even I zoom out sometimes. I just wanted you to tell me what was going on.“

That was a lot of information. At some late nights you listened to him speaking hours about things you would’ve never dreamed him speaking about. But that was all his rational view on topics that didn’t involve him or you personally. Now everything he had said was about you. His view about your ability of being a Dauntless. His view about your characteristics. And it was all positive, wasn’t it?

„You see me as a Dauntless, but i don’t. Not anymore.“

He nodded. Then he kissed you again. But this time slow and intense and careful as if he wanted to tell you something with that kiss. „Y/N, come back to Dauntless with me. I’ll help you find out where you belong. We’ll see if it works, alright?“

„I don’t know.“ You honestly did not fucking know. You were to worked up right now by Erics words. They meant a lot to you. Not only to know how he saw you as a person but also the part about failure. And of course the kisses. They didn’t help at all to get a clear mind.

„Y/N, do I need to throw you over my shoulder again?“ Eric tried to make you laugh. From time to time he liked to do that. And right now it worked.

„No. I’ll come with you.“ Primarily for the kisses you wanted to steal. „But what if it-“

„We’ll figure it out, alright?“ Eric’s eyes had changed from cold grey to something that was inviting. Inviting in every kind of positive way.

„Alright.“

He started smiling and kissed your forehead again before you two started heading down the endless flights of stairs.

174 notes · View notes

therumbellehappyendingaward-blog · 6 years

Text

Chapter 2 writer: @ashadeofpemberley

PROMPT: KNIFE

AO3: HERE

3 Months Earlier

Mama wasn’t going to wake up.

The words from the doctors faded into indistinct murmurs as Belle French slowly came to the realization that her mother, her best friend, her only friend, was not going to see her graduate from high school. It was a small milestone at best, truly insignificant in comparison to all that Belle wanted to accomplish in her life, but the swiftness with which her world was crumbling stole the air from her lungs. Annette French had slipped into a coma six months before her 50th birthday after spending the day in her greenhouse. No one could explain what had caused it; it was a like a spell had been cast over her and no matter how many times Belle left tearstained kisses on her mother’s forehead, her eyes remained tightly shut.

Papa had already started to withdraw from her. Doctor Whale said it was common for husbands in his situation and would come around once he had fully grieved. Though he never said it aloud, Belle knew he partially blamed her for her mother’s condition.

“Damned superstitious nonsense,” was his normal response to his wife and daughter’s little stories. For her 12th birthday, Belle had been given a tiny book of spells from her mother with a note telling her how the book had been passed down to the youngest daughter of her mother’s family. Annette had passed it off as a family joke, something her mother had given to her when she was Belle’s age.

“My grandmother said that her mother stole this book from a powerful sorcerer she had seen leaving a mansion in the woods. But when she tried to return to the sorcerer’s hideaway it had vanished. I tried a few spells for fun when I first got the book, but none of them worked.” she said as Belle’s eyes scanned the worn pages with unbound curiosity. For several years the leather bound book sat on one of the countless shelves that made up the majority of Belle’s room. Her mother never mentioned it to her again except on her thirteenth birthday when she nervously asked if Belle shown it to anyone. She, of course, hadn’t-- no teenage girl who already carried the label of geek needed the extra baggage of having others think she believed in magic. Annette seemed relieved by this knowledge and let the matter drop after confirming its place in Belle’s room.

But her mother’s continuing concern for the book had renewed Belle’s curiosity in its contents.

Flipping through its pages, Belle found that the so called spells it contained were fairly harmless, almost mundane. A spell to help roses grow, another for turnips, there was even a recipe for a tonic that was supposed to cure bad breath. Finally she settled on attempting a spell that would turn flowers blue. Her parent’s small flower shop had been struggling for months now and having a novelty product like blue roses was sure to drum up some business for them. The next day, Belle snuck in the necessary supplies to the shop’s greenhouse in her bookbag and got to work.

If she was being honest with herself, she felt silly the for the first couple minutes. Whispering short incantations whilst drawing foreign symbols in the dirt was not going to improve her already ready shaky reputation should someone walk in on her.

She spent the afternoon in the greenhouse, making sure to stop by every rosebush and perform her little spell before watering the plants. Even if it didn’t work, she still would at least get her chores down before dinner. Though her father never truly got angry with her, he often scolded her for being too distracted by either her books or her daydreams to water the residents of the greenhouse before their soil began to crack and crumble and their leaves faded to a sickly yellow.

Belle waited a good two extra hours to see if the spell had taken effect yet, but not even so much as a light purple had come over the roses. Her mother had called her in for dinner a good ten minutes ago and quite frankly Belle had found it funny that she ever thought this would work to begin with.

So when her father shouted for her and his wife to come down to the greenhouse the next morning, she never considered that her afternoon of magic would have anything to do with it.

But oh did it ever.

Everything was blue. The roses, the daisies, even the small tomato plant they kept in the corner had turned a shocking cerulean hue. But it looked like the spell had taken it upon itself to up the ante as further investigation uncovered that even the roots of every plant had turned blue overnight.

Her father’s first thought was vandals, but, as her mother gently pointed out, it hardly seemed likely that there were any vandals on the planet that would attack a greenhouse with such an unusual goal nor would they have time to dye everything and put it back without getting caught by the timed lock on the door.

Belle’s father then turned to her. “Did you forget to set the lock on the door before you left here yesterday, Belle?”

“No, Papa, I’m sure that I set it,” she shook her head. That much was at least true, but once she caught her mother’s eye and saw that knowing look that never failed to wring the truth out of her, Belle knew she had been caught.

After palacating her husband as best she could and sending him off to see about advertising their new stock, Annette French turned her attention towards her daughter.

“Did you have something to do with this Belle?” she asked calmly. Belle nodded her head miserably, making her curly chestnut hair fall in front of her eyes. She never meant for it to go this far, never expected what was supposed to be a harmless afternoon of make-believe to turn into something so unexpected.

“Did you use you book I gave you?”

Another nod.

“Do you want to try it again?”

With that final question, Belle was thrown into the secret life of the descendants of the Dames Blanches. Dames Blanches was an ancient society of women once said to be restless spirits that tormented travelers but were really much less threatening figures. Namely witches.

The story about Belle’s great-great grandmother was only partially true- she had been given the book of spells from a sorcerer, a powerful wizard that lived in the woods behind the Blanche family’s estate. In exchange for a small cottage, the wizard taught the children of the estate how to perform spells to ensure the prosperity of their gardens and livestock. For several years the estate flourished and the plants and animals that came from her family’s land were the envy of the entire town. It was not to last though, as a stable hand caught one of the children practicing a healing spell late one night on one of their horses.The townspeople soon heard of the wizard living in the woods and decided to burn the forest and her great-great grandmother’s estate to the ground as punishment for harboring witches.

The wizard was never caught however, and the remains of the cottage were never found among the ashes.

The only evidence that any of this was ever real was a long rusted knife that no one could remember the Blanche family owning and a tiny leatherbound book full of simple harvest spells. It had been smuggled out by the youngest daughter of the estate--her great-great grandmother, Annabelle Blanche, and the only surviving member of the Blanche family.

Covered in ash and grief she created and placed a powerful curse on the land so that none but a daughter of Blanche could ever revive it. Over the years the magic that had struck such fear into the hearts of the townsfolk faded from memory into myth, but the curse still held. The townspeople had forgotten that they had come to rely on the hearty produce that came from the estate and within a few years the town had been abandoned.

Much was the same for Annabelle and her descendants. With every generation the magic that once flowed through the Blanche family line grew weaker until one year it was discovered that a daughter from the house of Blanche could no longer perform magic at all. After that the book was given to the youngest daughter of the Blanche family as a reminder of all that their family had been and all that the matriarch of their family had done.

Belle was the first daughter in thirty years to ever show a trace of magic in her blood and now it seemed as if she had inherited all of the dormant magic of her forbearers at once. Her mother could barely contain her excitement as she recalled all of the tales the late Annabelle Blanche that had been told to her when she was a girl. Apparently the curse had become more complicated over time as Annabelle Blanche had gone back to her home at the ripe age of 92 and tried repeatedly to lift the curse on their family’s land but to no avail.

“It is said that at that the moment in which Annabelle cast her curse she was so filled with both bitterness and innocence that her magic split into both dark and light.” Her mother spoke of her great-grandmother with a reverence that one might reserve for a queen or deity.

“So it serves to follow that only the powers of both dark and light magic can undo it and by then it was too late for Annabelle to fix her mistake.”

“But Mama, I don’t know dark magic, so how are we going to undo her curse?” A fifteen year-old Belle replied practically to her mother’s story. Over the past two years her magic had grown slowly but surely thanks to her mother’s careful tutoring and encouragement. But she still couldn’t do much more than grow flowers and occasionally some vegetables (turnips always gave her trouble).

“I know, and I hope you never will.” Her mother would always reply with a sigh. “You see, when Annabelle cast that curse I don’t believe she ever meant for it to be such a burden on her children and grandchildren but that’s the trouble with magic: it always comes with a price and you have to be prepared to pay it.”

“Who knows, Mama? Maybe one day we’ll come up with a new spell to undo the curse altogether.”

“Maybe, sweetheart, maybe.”

Annette looked down at her daughter who had now snuggled into bed and was holding her spellbook under her pillow, never realizing that Belle’s words had been all too serious and that the real trouble was just about to start.

#group black #finish this #rumbelle #ashadeofpemberly

1 note · View note

shazyloren · 6 years

Text

The Room: Chapter 50 - Being the Teenager

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12710496/chapters/32504565

------------

Jon was baffled.

Theon had his mouth wide open and was stood on the other side of the hall while Robb flung chicken strips his way. He'd caught two, just missed one and yet the rest (all fifty something strips that Arya had counted) were pilling up near Theon's feet. How am I related to such idiots? He thought as his eyes rolled and he and Sansa continued their conversation over lunch about the dream she'd had in which Jon had been eaten by a Hippogriff in the third task.

"Sansa, there are many things likely to happen in the second and third task, me being eaten by a Hippogriff if not one of them" He said plainly. Sansa went to speak again, as if she was concerned that this was a possibility that could happen but Jon interrupted her. "Hippogriff don't eat humans, they can't digest us. They only eat small animals such as ferrets and squirrels and fish. The most likely thing to happen in the second and third task is that I lose because I have no clue what is going on"

"Maybe I can help?" Jon felt a shiver go down his spine as her voice made him melt. Collecting himself, he turned to see her smiling brightly. In his eye line, he just noticed Missandei was there too, but he did not care. Daenery's eyes were smiling, he couldn't help but be so fucking excited about that fact. For so long this year she'd been smiling with only her mouth that it was so good to see she was finally happy. Well, almost. They still had the task looming over them and all their head duties so who could ever really be happy with all that going on too?

But as her he remembered their kisses they'd shared since the one on Christmas day, a few small ones and other more meaningful ones. His favourite by far was when they'd been studying together and while taking a lunch break had engaged in a near fifteen minute long kiss that had completely obliterated his senses. As he remembered it, he couldn't help but let a small smile creep onto his face, it was a memory he would never forget as long as he and Daenerys lived. Which given how unprepared he was for the Second task could be any day...

What did she say? Something about help...

Jon shook his head as he watched her sit opposite him with Missandei and grab some sandwiches from the 'tuna and cucumber' pile. Her bags were already on the floor and she looked stressed about something despite the smile on her lips. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"Can we talk later?" She asked looking around at prying eyes and ears, Theon and Robb noticing she'd come and sat at their table and had stopped flinging food. Jon found his heart in his mouth, every time they were around they said something really embarrassing and he'd end up having to apologise to Daenerys later on. "Who knows what Barnabas would think if I started talking about him where other could hear"

Jon understood, it was code for meet me in our room later on, the room being the room of requirement that is. They still went into the room on the odd occasion, but it was more the emotional support the room gave than anything which made it a perfect hiding place for the two of them. Since she'd revealed her story to him, she'd come to him upset couple of times about dreams she'd had of it happening again and so they'd go to their room and just sit by the fire and cuddle. Or they'd read interesting books and dance to Celestina Warbeck music.

"Sure, I get ya" Jon said coolly but Sansa he could see, out of the corner of his eye, was looking at him as if he'd just tried to sniff lacewing flies under her nose. He didn't look at the redhead, she was such a snoop she'd probably ask him a million questions the next time ti was just the two of them. "How's the library?"

"Insufferable" She sighed. "Don't get me wrong, I get that nothing of note happens in this school in secret without it being broadcast to the entire populous within hours. However, will people get bored of talking about us eventually? It's all 'I saw them kissing while they were suppose to be patrolling the corridors' and 'I thought they hated each other'. I mean, firstly, I don't break school rules while working, I take patrolling very seriously. Secondly, do they have better things to do with their lives then spread gossip?"

"I wouldn't worry about it, they'll get bored and move onto Arya and William sooner or later" Sansa snickered as everyone else sat down. "I heard Margaery Tyrell saying she caught them practising kissing in the greenhouses. Not my first choice if I'm honest"

"I was not kissing him, that's disgusting!" Arya pretended to make retching noises.

"Who would kiss a pip-squeak like you?" Gendry had suddenly appeared and Sansa, leaping up like she'd suddenly been possessed by a demon flapped her arms around muttering something about Divination study. Arya, flushed redder than the tomatoes in Jon's sandwich.

Jon was confused by the sudden chain of events that had occurred. Daenerys had arrived looking beautiful (which was the only thing he actually cared about), Arya had been kissing boys? To be honest, Jon was surprised at this more than mad as she'd always described men and boys as scum of the universe. Gendry, the only Hufflepuff friend he had, had turned up and insulted his sister before taking his other sister away for Divination study. If Theon started singing and if Robb started doing his homework he wouldn't actually be surprised.

"I'm not a pip-squeak!" Arya growled.

"Sure thing, pip-squeak" Gendry winked before nodding at Jon as a small acknowledgement of him being sat there. Arya's fists were while as her shoulders hunched up and she glared at the Hufflepuff until both he and Sansa left. Jon turned to look at his sister who shoved her plate of food away and began to stalk off angrily towards the exit.

"Can anyone tell me what just happened?" Jon said furrowing his brow.

"Women" Robb laughed as he shoved and entire ham and pickle sandwich into his mouth in one. Missandei, who had remained quiet at this point had a vivid reaction to this. She scrunched her nose up and turned away as if she did not know anyone currently on the table. Jon didn't blame her, he was wondering if he should do that himself. There was a small silence then where Jon wondered about the nature of Arya's relationship with William.

He better not be running his slimy, snivelling hands over her, Jon thought abruptly. He shocked himself with this thought, like Arya would let him do that?

"So, Daenerys" Jon heard Theon say and suddenly, anger flared in him. He knew what was going to happen, and as his eyes traced Daenerys, she did too. Theon looked like he was going to regret what he said, and he was so right. "I heard you two have been making out on patrol, a little unprofessional of you don't you think?"

"Say that again and I'll turn you into a lampshade" Daenerys snarled between mouthfuls of her sandwich. Jon knew this game, it was best not to get involved just yet. They'd both fling insults at each other before Daenerys indeed did the thing she'd threatened to do. She always turned him back or undid the curse she put on him, but just once, Jon wouldn't mind if she left it on there as a punishment for being rude.

Jon tuned out the arguing, favouring his Daily Prophet while he ate lunch. Nothing new seemed to be happening in the wizarding world, the prophet hadn't even reported Viserys being fired by Minister Lannister. But that would change once everything came out. The fact it still hadn't happened worried Jon a little bit, but Professor Lannister had showed him the process off authenticating a memory. It was delicate work and while Veritaserum would make him confess, they needed the memories to make the courts take the case on to be able to get him to confess in the first place.

The news in the prophet of the day was about the lead singer of popular folk band 'The Brotherhood' having taken a religious sabbatical following the end of their forth world tour and a trip to wizarding rehab. Apparently he said that while high on muggle drug, Cannabis, he was approached by one of their gods and asked to convert. There was no word on what it meant for the hugely popular band but given the way the article was written the writer, one Lancel Sparrow, he wasn't too happy about this development.

There was also news of a weird new disease been discovered by a Senior Healer at St. Mungo's. The patient was in quarantine while the heals there worked around the clock to find a cure. There was news of scaling and puss leaking in this new disease and Jon felt queasy for reading while eating, so he skipped to the sports section. The Holy-head harpies had gone the entire season undefeated now and one more win would secure them the championship this season. Their star player, the beater, Brienne Tarth, had crushed the opposition with a total of two hundred and twelve successful redirected bludgers at opponents, more than any other player in one season.

Jon was distracted from his prophet by the sound of hooting and screeching. Mail was here, and so, with it came the fear of a letter from home of the punching incident. Professor Lannister had said he'd written home but the response had not come back yet. Jon had written to them explaining his side of the story and everything that led up to him breaking the pricks jaw.

And so, as he looked up and saw Hodor, the family owl, carrying four letters, he inwardly cursed. Robb, Sansa, Arya AND him. "Drat to Merlin in hell"

"What's your problem?" Daenerys chuckled at him cursing.

"Letter from home" Jon grumbled. "Not had one yet since the Joffrey incident"

They had all got a letter on Christmas day, a generic one for the whole family along with their presents but Jon had not really been fussed either way. But suddenly, he felt like since he'd been head he'd been so good with his anger and his immaturity that this was a step back for him. His sudden rage was against the grain of the year he'd had. Daenerys, understood and all she said was "oh".

The letters landed and he passed Robb's over to him. Keeping Arya and Sansa's letter to give to them later, he opened his with a ferocity and speed he'd never had before. Opening the pages which smelt of their study back home, he read it.

Son,

I have received your letter as well as an interesting open from Professor Lannister. He explained that his nephew, while very much indeed a dismal person at best, you still went against school rules and caused him to have a night in the hospital wing. The story from both sides is not very differing and while I understand your motivations it was indeed reckless of you to jeopardise your position as Head Boy that you've earned.

However, the letter did bring a few things to light which you had not stated before which was your relationship with Miss. Targaryen. When you said at the beginning of the school year that you'd both been made head boy and girl, I feared the worst. At the least I was expecting a letter home every week saying you'd killed each other or worse both been expelled!

But none of this has happened, and I wonder what the cause of this is? Could it possibly be that you are actually now friends with Miss. Targaryen, the very girl you've been competing with for four years? The very girl who also happens to be a Hogwarts champion along with you at this years Triwizard Tournament? The world works in ways I cannot understand, and whatever the reason for this sudden kinship I encourage it.

But please son, try not to punch anyone else in the face so hard they break their jaw. Even if they deserve it!

This brings me to my next point, we'll be coming to the Second Task. I regret not being there for the First one, particularly as I'm on the school board but I did not know how Catelyn would react. If we went, we'd be cheering you on, and as you know, she still has not forgiven me for you.

But as I say many times, you are my son. You may not have my name, but you have my blood, and I will be coming to support you!

All the best,

Father.

Jon exhaled coolly as he realised he got away with murder pretty much. He was expecting a lot worse from that letter, but he had been lucky. However, the news that he was indeed coming to see his second task just meant he had more pressure on himself to do well and he did not like that. Daenerys' honey voice pulled him out of the letter. "All good?"

"Slap on the wrist" Jon sighed, folding the letter up and putting it into his bag. He returned to his lunch and looked as Daenerys glanced around at the owls. "Anything for you?"

"No, but that's a good thing" She changed the subject. "So, meeting today. You got the agenda ready?"

"Always, I wanted to bring up the notepads again. People are not being specific enough with the detail, also a few are abusing the power to write down people they hate" Jon said as he pulled out his own notepad and began writing down a few additional things on the paper. "I mean we all want to write Joffrey down for every crime under the sun but the past few weeks he's actually kept to himself"

"You're right" Daenerys pulled her own notepad out, but Jon recognised it as the one that he uses to commune with her when they had just head business to talk about when they didn't want anyone else to read it. She winked at him before writing something down on her notepad. Jon sideways glanced at Robb who was still reading his letter from home and Theon had gone over to the Slytherin table to give his sister her letter.

He took his notepad out and read the message that came through to him. You look very handsome with your hair down and the curls out.

Jon felt his eyes widen. What was he supposed to say back? Daenerys hair was not in a braid today, but it was running free and loose all over the place. He could compliment it, or would he just be copying? And did he write a short sentence or did he write something detailed? There wasn't a manual for this, that was for sure! He sighed and wrote what came to mind.

Your voice is like honey and your hair is like silver clouds.

Alright poet, calm down.

Sorry, your hair is nice too.

Thank you, you want to kiss later?

Do you need to ask me?

Always, you might change your mind and go back to hating me. Please don't ever do that, I think we're too involved for that to not and well if it was the case.

Daenerys, I could live to be a hundred and I'd still care for you. But yes, after our meeting, we can have a kiss.

Do you feel weird planning this out on a notepad?

You're the one who asked.

True, see you at four for meeting. X]

Suddenly, Daenerys got out of her seat and collected her things. Jon blinked as he watched her swiftly leave and her hair trail down her back. It was then he noticed her bottom, it was curvy and round, and in her jeans it looked like a perfect peach. He realised however, that if she knew he was looking at her bottom she'd get nervous and scared and run off which was understandable given everything that happened. So he tore his eyes away and tried to focus on what he had to do before the meeting.

What did he have to do?

With Daenerys around he didn't know anything anymore, she was his one and only focus.

Screw school.

#jon snow #daenerys targaryen #jon x daenerys #jon x dany #jon x dany fanfic #jonerys #jonerys fanfic #got #game of thrones #hogwarts au #au #fanfic #fanfiction

14 notes · View notes

severingt · 4 years

Text

Ned, My Paternal Grandfather

There is a lot of documented history of both my grandfathers, through their war records and, in the case of granddad Travers, Michael Fitzpatrick’s history of Gorey, Ireland. However, these are not the tales I wish to retell here; this is a personal memory and as such may be correct or not, but it is how I remember it. He joined the navy and after worked till retirement in HMS Vernon which is now Gunwharf Quays in Portsmouth. He was a pretty big guy, stocky and sure footed. He had tattoos on each arm – I don’t know of what as they just looked like a mess of blue ink to me. He wore glasses and was pretty much bald, which to his credit he didn’t try to hide under a comb-over. He used to wear a green cap, I don’t remember ever seeing anyone else wearing one like it, but I guess I didn’t look that hard. He used to grow his own vegetables and fruit. I think he has an allotment as well. His garden had vegetables down one side, fruit down the other and a mixture across the end. There was an old apple tree in the garden. He grew carrots and peas, runners and onions, potatoes, blackberries, raspberries and loganberries, all sorts. My uncle used to tell a story of a set of golf clubs he bought, second hand. He needed left handed clubs as that was the way he played. Anyway, he got a good deal on these clubs and they were pretty good. Sometime later, after he had moved away, he read in a paper about a particular brand of golf clubs that were quite rare and worth a premium. They were the same make as my uncles. Realising that perhaps left handed ones were even rarer, my uncle thought he could make some money selling his clubs. So, the next time he visited my grandparents, he asked my granddad whether he knew where those old clubs were. Granddad did, indeed, know where they were as one day when he was stringing up some vegetables, he ran out of bamboo cane. He went to the greenhouse, looking for something that he could use and his eyes fell upon these clubs that hadn’t been used for many years. So, inspiration struck him and he quickly found his wood saw and cut off the ends of the clubs. They made wonderful supports for his vegetables. He decided to make me a kite one day that I was over there. When I arrived he was fairly near finishing it. It was traditional shape, made from brown paper. He used flour and water as the glue to hold it all together. We went over to Milton Park to fly it. It didn’t go very well, but it didn’t matter either; that wasn’t the point. I can remember him running, trying to get some lift under it and failing. The dog, Gora(?) running along side her master. Once he and grandma took my brother and I to an open day or something, maybe it was a navy day – I can’t remember. There was a big trampoline there and I can remember my brother have a good old time bouncing up and down. We used to go to my paternal grandparents every Wednesday. That was early closing day for my dad and so he’d pick us up from school and we would go there for supper. I was there once when he was eating his supper, a big pile of potatoes and, I think, a stew of some kind. He used to make a sound, I’ll never forget, when he was eating; it was like a minor exhalation of breath during effort. I do it sometimes now and it always reminds me of him. He used to take me to the football at Fratton Park to see Pompey play. Well, perhaps play isn’t the right word as at that time they were always to be found languishing in the lower reaches of Division Two and once popped down to Division Three, just to see what it was like. I believe it was from standing in the Fratton End freezing, watching some inept, over weight and over aged footballers lose every Saturday that my deep hatred for football comes. However, that wasn’t his fault. I can’t remember how many times we went, it was a few though. I don’t know how old I was either. Once we drove out to Fairmile Bottom, which was out past Singleton in West Sussex. There was just a wooden café there so blink and you’d miss it. Interestingly, this café was considered of such local importance that it was bought by the Amberley Museum and transported there where it stands, refurbished to this day. Anyway, it was a whole family get together as my aunt and uncle, Mike and Sally (who was just a toddler at the time) and their red and white Hillman Minx were there. Granddad and grandma were there as were the four of us. I only know this much detail as it is recorded on cine film. I do remember, however, the kick around we had behind the café; there was a sort of picnic area there, I think. So I guess that must have been 1966? As with most Irishmen, my granddad was a bit of a drinker in his time. Legend has it that he used to give directions by pubs, i.e. you go down to the Ship and Anchor then turn right and go along till you get to the Vines then go left till the White Hart, etc. I went to Ireland with my grandparents once and contracted mumps. It was then that I was introduced to the delights of sugar sandwiches and tomato sauce mash. We went over by train as neither of my grandparents could drive; we must have taken the night crossing to Rosslare, as once on board ship we had a bunk which I seem to remember sharing with granddad, but I’m not sure on that. I don’t remember much more; only that, near the end, he lost a lot of weight thus becoming a shadow of his former self. I didn’t see much of him in his final days / weeks / months. He was just there, and then he wasn’t there. That was it. Once again, I didn’t go to the funeral; as I remember, a few came back to our house for lunch. I think his ashes were taken to Ireland and buried alongside someone whose name escapes me.

0 notes

weneedtherooks · 6 years

Text

Gardening Affection

God alive this thing is so looooooooooooooong Standing at 4925 words, it’s the longest story I’ve written.

So, have a story about Friedrich’s oldest brother, Derrick, and his wife, Melanie!

Awful title included for my little plant children :D

Derrick Rosenthal woke up at 6am, like he always did. Going to the front yard, he began to pick what he could off of his vegetable plants, weeding and pruning them as he carefully set the produce inside a large basket. He grumbled to himself as he (once again) somehow forgot to take what he could of the herbs planted around them. It’s not like I planted those to use them...but that doesn’t mean I should waste them… Wandering back over to the porch, he took off the herbs he’d been previously drying, carefully setting them in a smaller, cloth lined basket. Maybe he’d be able to sell these; as much as he was fond of helping out the other people on his street, making an extra coin or two wouldn’t hurt. Hefting the small harvest, he pushed the front door open with his foot, making his way to the kitchen. His younger brother, Friedrich, was rubbing his eyes as he walked in. “Good morning, Fritzi.” “Mmph,” he grumbled, waving at his older brother. “You remember you’re coming with me to the fish market this afternoon, right?” The thirteen year old gave him a sleepy eyed stare. “No.” “Friedrich, you couldn’t have simply forgotten about that. I told you before you went to bed.” “Don’t wanna go.” Derrick sighed, shaking his head as he turned to face the sink. “Alright, fine,” he said over his shoulder as he began cleaning a tomato, “but that means you need to go do all the laundry first before you eat.” Friedrich nodded, shuffling to the front door to grab his shoes. “Am I washing anything?” “Yes, I put the basket next to the back door.” “If I do the dishes tonight, can I do my school work tomorrow?” Ooooo, this boy. Derrick turned to face the kitchen entrance, pointing a finger at Fritz. “You’re getting up when I do and doing double. Got it?” “Got it.” Derrick quietly chuckled to himself as Friedrich trotted away to do the laundry. With Armin in America, Friedrich had taken over most of the second Rosenthal boy’s chores, including going to the market with him. Which brought Derrick to the next problem: Erich. Generally, he tried to be a bit easier on his youngest brother, but if Friedrich wasn't going with him, he needed to bring someone. “Mornin’...” Erich mumbled around a yawn. Derrick smiled. “Hello, maus. Can you please start setting up for breakfast?” “Where’s Fritz…?” he asked, reaching for some plates in the hutch. “Doing laundry, since he’s not going out with me this afternoon.” “But I don’t wanna go get fish…” “It’s alright, I’ve already done it.” Both boys turned their heads to the kitchen entryway to see their mother walk in. Well, stepmother in Derrick’s case, but Mallory Rosenthal had been more of one then his own mother. “What are you doing home already, mama?” Derrick asked. She was usually gone during the mornings and afternoon, right? “You didn’t get sent home, did you?” “Derrick, if you’re implying that I was sacked, no. I simply finished what I needed much sooner than planned. I still need to go to my second job, but I have some free time until then. And I remember you mentioning that we needed to get some things from the fisherman, so I went ahead and did it.” She held up a handwritten note, stopping Derrick’s next question. “Oh. Um...thank you.” She nodded, looking around the kitchen. “We’re missing one?” “No, he’s doing laundry. Because he wasn’t going to come with me this afternoon. And I’m hard pressed to stop him at this point.” “No, let him do it. He hasn’t in a while. It’s about time he took a turn.” Derrick shrugged. They both knew the storm of complaints that would come the minute he walked into the house and saw the market run had already been done. “He is doing dishes tonight to skip school work today, however.” His mother groaned. “That boy…” Thank God I’m not alone with that sentiment. “He’s getting up with me in the morning to do it. Double.” “Thankfully he’s an efficient student.” Which was true, infuriating as it was. Fritz simply worked best when things were done that way; if it was able to be put off until the last moment, it was. “Erich, why don’t you go help your brother with laundry? I know there was quite a bit. And I’d like to speak with your brother alone.” Oh God. The youngest Rosenthal couldn’t have run off faster. Mallory laughed softly at him. “If only those two could take that energy and use it for something productive.” “In time, I’m sure.” “Oh, obviously,” she replied, finishing with retrieving the dishes to take to the dining room. “Of all the things your father couldn’t have passed on to all of you.” Sighing, she shook her head. “You and Armin just have everything in your heads straightened out and orderly. Fritz and Erich…” Derrick chuckled. “They have it straightened out. A bit cluttered, but straight.” They finished setting up breakfast in general silence when she finally spoke again. “Derrick, what are you doing?” Aaaaand there it is. “What are you talking about?” “Son, you’re seventeen years old. You should be out and about with your friends, flirting with people, seeing more of the world, something. And yet,” she gestured towards the backyard, “you’re setting up chores for your brothers and halfway running a household.” “Mama…” he sighed irritably. Oh, this was not a talk he was willing to have. “You’ve had to work two jobs since papa died. You needed the help. Hence my doing these things.” “Darling, I’m far from ungrateful for your help in all of this. In fact, I couldn’t be more proud of you.” She stood in front of him, placing her hands on his arms. “Derrick, you’ve spent the last nine years taking care of everyone but yourself. Why don’t you take some time to yourself? Perhaps France; put that second language of yours to good use!” His stepmother moved a hand to cup his cheek. “Your time is now, I can feel it. Now go do something wild, my son. Make this summer one to remember.” She pulled a train ticket from her skirt pocket, placing it in his hand. He looked down at it, his stomach fluttering nervously. “But…” “No. Not ‘but’s. Go.” Gently pushing him out of the kitchen, his mother urged him up the stairs. Maybe he had been a bit too occupied with everyone else for too long...perhaps this little holiday would be what he needed. Then he could come back home and put this whole, silly thing behind him. Halfway up, he looked back down at her. She gave him a hopeful smile. “It’s time.”

Melanie Labelle beamed at her roses as she finished clipping the last of the dead leaves off the bush. “There we are, mes amours! All better!” she chirped to the flowers with a bright smile. Collecting her gardening tools, she looked over the rose garden once more. She’d gotten quite lucky this year! She hadn’t expected her Madame Hardy roses to make a comeback after the fiasco with her older sister; the St. Nicholas’s certainly hadn’t. “Well, at least one of you made it out alive…” She dropped the tools back into their bucket, toting them to the small shed by her greenhouse. The Madame Hardy’s had always been her mother’s favorites, along with the York & Lancaster. Melanie was partial to her miniature roses, but when her father started to get rid of his late wife’s prized rose bushes, she didn’t allow him destroy her mother’s two favorites. He’d already purged the rest of the house of her...the least she could do was save her flowers. She was brushing her hands off on the skirt of her gardening dress when her aunt came out to greet her. “Playing in the dirt again, my dear?” How that woman managed to sound friendly and annoyed at the same time, Melanie would never know. “Just bringing some of the roses to the garden. I was able to save one of the bushes Clarisse destroyed, but I’m going to have to find someone with a good St. Nicholas; mine is unsalvageable. I’ve already sent out inquiries.” “And Angelina’s Queen Elizabeth?” “Doing quite well.” “So this is the fabled flower garden!” another voice called out. Melanie looked to see her father walking over with his new business partner, Richard Maxwell. Well, “new” wasn’t exactly correct; Richard had recently taken his late father’s place in the company. “Yes, as much as my Melanie knows it bothers me to have her digging about in the dirt. Her mother was the same way.” Melanie stifled the urge walk away. She hated when he started talking maman down; especially since she’d expressed her disapproval of it multiple times. “Oh, I think it’s a pleasant pastime,” he countered warmly. “There are, in fact, worse things to do than gardening.” He delicately took a rose in his hand, admiring that particular breed’s pale pink coloring. “What do you call this one?” “Catherine Mermet,” she answered proudly. He seemed impressed with her quick answer, moving to look at the other bushes nearby. “Perhaps we can move this conversation to the morning room?” her father suggested, motioning back to the house. “Oh, of course,” Melanie replied. “I should change my dress then; I wasn’t expecting company.” “That one will be just fine,” he answered quickly, offering an arm to escort her. Melanie took it, trying to snuff out the sudden flare of anxiety in her stomach. Upon arriving in the morning room, her father sat her down. “Melanie, I’ve arranged for you and Richard to be married. “You want me to...marry him?” Melanie asked, staring at her father in disbelief. She briefly looked at the man who was now her betrothed, hoping for a different answer. Instead, he simply smiled as he sat on the sofa oppose of her. Like he’d been doing since… Since he arrived. “I don’t see why not!” he aunt beamed, clearly not reading her niece’s sudden drop in mood. This was already planned out. “He’s very handsome, comes from a good family, and he’s also quite fond of you! It’s perfect!” “And no one thought to ask me about this first?” “I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” her father interjected. “By anyone's standards, he’s the very definition of perfect. And it’ll help bring money back in the family coffers. Unless you would rather be destitute?” Melanie sighed. “We’re nowhere near such a dire situation, papa. But this-” “Perhaps...if I could speak to my betrothed alone?” Richard inquired, giving her father a reassuring look. No, no, no! I don't want to talk to you! “Of course!” her aunt chimed, leaning close to Melanie to whisper a stern “behave!” in her ear. After her family left, her betrothed stood. He moved in front of her, crouching down to eye level. “What is the matter, my dear? After all, we've known each other a great many years, haven't we? Your hesitation seems almost out of character.” Melanie could admit to having had a certain childhood attraction to the man; he was a tad over six feet, caramel colored hair, with deep blue eyes that accented his features perfectly. They had in fact known each other since she was small...but that didn't excuse a damn thing. “I’m sorry,” she began carefully, “I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, but doesn’t this seem like a bit too much? We’ve hardly ever spoken in the years we’ve known each other, nevermind the fact that I barely know a thing about you. And any one of my other sisters would make a much better spouse for you, I’m certain.” “Hmm…” He put a finger to his chin, a look of deep contemplation on his face. “Okay. I’m Richard Maxwell, 24 years old, and I enjoy horseback riding. You?” Melanie blinked. What is he…? “I..I’m sorry, but forgive my confusion. I do know who you are and that you enjoy riding. That isn't-” “Alright then, my dear, I’ll be more frank,” he interrupted, his demeanor darkening. “I don’t really care for all this idle prattle. The simple fact is your family is losing money at an alarming rate, and marrying me will ensure them, and yourself, with financial security. And from what I’ve been told, you’re quite the self-sufficient young woman. Which suits me perfectly, since this is all just a matter of monetary gain, anyhow. So,” he leaned closer to her face, “we can be cordial about this, or you can keep making things difficult, Miss Labelle. The decision is yours, but I suggest the former...if you value your family’s comfort and stability, that is.” Melanie blanched, nodding stiffly. “Good,” he replied, the casual smile from before reappearing on his face. As he stood to retrieve her father and his sister, Melanie got up from her chair to go out the now open door. “Melanie? Where are you going?” “Out,” she answered tersely, plastering a perfect smile for her father. “I’m going to purchase a new dress my dear Richard will enjoy. And I wish to do so alone.” “Without a chaperone?” her aunt squeaked. “Out of the question!” Oh, for the love of all things holy. “I’m sure I’ll run into one of my friends on the way to town; there’s a new line of summer dresses being debuted.” Her aunt shook her head, sighing. “Oh, very well. But don’t keep Mr. Maxwell waiting long.” She made it to the front door when her father grabbed her by the arm. “Melanie, what do you think you’re doing?” She tried to pull away, but his grip on her grew tighter. “Let go of me this instant!” she growled through gritted teeth. “Of all the damned things in this world, you had to get that god-awful independent streak from your mother...if you weren’t the only child I could rely on for this…” Her eyes went wide. So that’s what this was. He simply didn’t trust his other unmarried children to simply say “yes”. “Well, maybe you should have thought this out better, then. I’m not an object for you to use.” “Oh, I beg to differ,” her father whispered darkly, suddenly releasing her arm. Jerking away, she was practically running from the house the moment she set foot out the door. How dare they do this to her? To marry her off to the first available gentleman for their own comfort! So they could look out their morning room window and pretend that the rest of the world is supposed to bow to them simply because they had money! What am I going to do…? She idly looked inside shop windows as she passed them, doing her absolute best to come up with a better solution than marrying Richard Maxwell while she attempted to calm herself down. Yes, she was normally willing to do almost anything for her family, but being made to be miserable her whole life? That was not one of those things. And that’s when she saw him. A few feet away, sitting alone at a cafe table, was a young man who looked to be about three or four years older than herself. His brunette hair had a slight wave to it, and it fell attractively against his forehead. A pair of handsome brown eyes were fixed on the book in front of him, occasionally breaking away to look at a cup of coffee in front of him. Or was it tea? It didn’t matter. What if…? She stormed up to his table. “Hey!” Not moving from his book, he looked up at her. “I need you to marry me.”

“Derrick, you’ve spent the last nine years taking care of everyone but yourself. Why don’t you take some time to yourself? Perhaps France; put that second language of yours to good use!” His stepmother moved a hand to cup his cheek. “Your time is now, I can feel it. Now go do something wild, my son. Make this summer one to remember.” Derrick looked around the old church he was currently standing in, mulling over the memory of his mother’s words as he waited for the pastor to arrive. I bet she didn’t see me getting MARRIED while I was here. That should be wild enough. Derrick turned back to face the petite blonde pacing by the shabby alter. He would consider it a solid miracle if they were the same age. He was pretty sure his 13 year old brother was taller than her, and that was saying something since Fritz was a tad shorter than most of his friends. Her once neat bun was beginning to come undone with each turn on her heel, which was also kicking up some dust off the floor and dirtying the hem of her already messy dress. The dirt on her face was somewhat amusing...for all her high-born looks, her dirt-stained appearance just threw it all to the wind. “What’s your name?” she asked briskly, not bothering to look in his direction for more than a moment. “You gonna tell me what’s going on first?” he retorted, folding his arms across his chest. She answered by stopping to put her hands on her dainty hips. “Tell me your name first.” “Derrick. Now answer.” She scoffed, sounding irritated with his curt reply. “Well, I’m not sure if I should give you one now, since you’re acting so rudely.” “I’m acting rudely?” Is she serious? “Forgive me for sounding like an ass then, but it was you who came stomping up to me shouting ‘You’re gonna marry me!’, so who’s really being rude here?” She opened her mouth, but snapped it shut. “Fine.” God, Friedrich is easier to deal with. Derrick sighed, doing his best to reign in his frustration. “Okay, I’m sorry. My name is Derrick Rosenthal. I’m seventeen, since you haven’t asked.” He held out his hand. “And you would be?” She looked at it skeptically. “Melanie,” she said, finally giving in. She extended her hand, shaking his. Or, it would have been a handshake if she weren’t so bloody dainty. Good grip, for what it was worth. “Are you honestly seventeen?” Derrick raised an eyebrow. “Yes…?” “You look...older.” “Yes, apparently that’s something of my father’s fault. A common piece of genetics in his family.” “Oh.” They stood in silence. Derrick turned to look at something by the pulpit. “Your accent is off.” My…? “I’m sorry?” “Your accent.” “That’s because I’m not French…” he answered slowly. Is this what Erich would be like if he was a girl? “I’m German.” “What?” Oh God have mercy. “German. As in from Germany? It’s a country-” “I know what it means!” “Then you have me at a loss.” “I’m sorry! It’s just...your French is quite good. Exceptional, even. For someone from outside the country.” “I...my mother told me I needed a hobby, so I picked up French. I’m not fluent quite yet, but it's getting there. I can speak English as well.” Her reply was a mousy little “huh” before she went back to stalking around the church; this time, she traveled up and down the main aisle, stopping in the center. “You wanted an answer.” “If that's acceptable.” “Okay,” she began, walking back and stopping a few inches away from him. “I don't want to get married to a man who's eight years my senior so my parents can have their precious money.” That..was not what I was expecting. “So...you ran away from an arranged marriage?” “More or less.” “Then, correct me if I’m wrong, you chose to escape this marriage by entering into another?” She nodded. “With a complete stranger?” Another nod. Oh boy. “So...how exactly would this help you?” Derrick leaned against the pulpit. “You don’t know a thing about me; for all you could know, I could be an even poorer choice than your current betrothed.” She looked him in the eye, pinning him with a hard stare. For the first time, he noticed her eyes looked like brandy. You could get drunk staring at those eyes... “You...don’t frighten me like he does.” Her words snapped him out of his odd reverie. “He scares you?” “I’m just an...object to him. I know that. The way I see it, I would be better off taking my chances with a total stranger I met twenty minutes ago than trying to live a lifetime with that as a husband.” At that moment, the pastor walked in, looking the two of them over with a pointed stare. “If you two are ready.” Melanie looked back at him, the expression in her eyes a hard plea. Well...this should be interesting, indeed. “Yes. We’re ready.”

Melanie tapped her fingers irritability on the dining room table. Something was damn well bothering her, and she couldn’t put her finger on it. Derek had gone to the next town over to sell what little produce he had grown, as well as to purchase some nails and paint for the small coop he was building so they could purchase some chickens; he was doing everything he usually did on a Saturday, so why did today bug her so much? And why did all of this make her stomach do flips? He HAS been gone longer than normal...not to mention the odd distance he’s been putting between us...is he seeing someone while he's there? Melanie choked down the strange urge to cry. Why did that thought make her so upset? It’s like you have feelings for him or something. ... Oh Lord. I have feelings for him. I genuinely like him. “I’m home!” Derrick called from the front door. She jumped a bit, his voice breaking her internal discussion. “You were out late,” she replied, cursing herself a little at even asking the question. It’s not as if he’s never been out late before, Melanie! Pull yourself together! A short pause was followed by a curse in German. “Shiße, I didn't realize it was so late.” He walked into the dining room, setting down a cloth bag on the table. “I must have been talking with Phillipe longer than I thought.” “What were you trying to get from him?” “Chickens for the coop. The sooner we don't have to pay for eggs, the better.” He pulled out a fresh loaf of bread and some croissants, setting them down on top of the bag. “And Mrs. Bellmont sends her thanks for the Anne Harkness’s. She was absolutely smitten with them.” “Oh? She enjoyed them?” “I believe her exact words were ‘The perfect pinch of color my dingy home needs!’. Which is absurd, considering her garden is full of lavender.” Melanie nodded, giving him a weak smile...which earned her a raised brow. “What?” “Is everything okay? You seem distracted,” he asked, gentle concern touching his voice. “Please don’t act like my parent.” That’s it. Oh Lord. I have feelings for him. I genuinely like him. Her comment took him off guard, but he recovered quickly. “I didn’t intend-” I can’t do this. “Are you seeing someone in town?” Oh Lord, there it is. Vomited all over the dining table. His expression seemed...offended? “Why would-” “Why are you even here still?” she cut in again, ignoring his annoyed huff at being interrupted again. “We only got married because I forced you to so I could get out of an unsavory predicament. I expected you to leave the better of a year ago. Instead…” she rambled, stopping mid thought. She looked at his hands, folded patiently in front of him. She took his hand in hers, tracing over the calluses with feather-light touches. “You’ve given me so much more than I ever expected. I don’t understand.” Derrick was silent for a brief moment before moving his hand...to hold hers. “Do you have any siblings?” She looked up at him, wondering where the question came from. He was preoccupied with looking at her hand in his. “My mother left when I was two, and my father died when I was eight. In his passing, he left behind myself, my stepmother, and my three younger brothers.” “You have three younger brothers…?” And you haven’t seen them in two years. “Yes. Armin is 17, Friedrich is 15, and Erich is 13. If circumstance called for it, my mother worked anywhere from two to three jobs...I took it upon myself to be my brother’s caretaker. I’ve hardly known anything else outside of that role.” He played with her fingers a bit, smiling at the odd thorn scar here and there. “I was even schooling them. My brother Armin recently returned from the States. He’s a doctor now, you know?” “At seventeen?” His face was almost glowing with pride. “And Friedrich finished his schooling last year. Erich is close behind as well. But I’m ranting.” He squeezed her hand, taking a deep breath. “I haven’t left because it’s just in my nature to take care of people. Also I realized I felt something of an...attraction...to you.” “You were attracted to me…?” “I don’t have much knowledge in courting; I never bothered with such things since I had my brother’s to take care of. And you didn’t seem like the type that even wanted to be courted, so I simply didn’t try. That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, I’m merely unsure of how to go about showing you without accidentally stifling you.” Melanie’s jaw clenched. So that’s why he’s been so distant lately...he’s been conflicted between his role as a protector...and his desire to initiate a relationship with me. “You can never learn balance unless you fall.” A hint of a smile crossed his face. “My mother told me something like that once.” She smiled at the thought that she reminded him of his mother. “I’m also one out of four children; the youngest, in this case. Harriet is 24, as is Clarisse, and Angelina is 20. I was...a favorite, of sorts. Especially to my mother.” Melanie’s voice began to waver. “She was my world. She taught me how to grow and care for roses and how to take care of myself.. She was the sun in my house, but when she got sick…” Derrick hesitantly wiped a stray tear off of her cheek. “My father emptied the entire house of her presence the day she died, then my aunt moved in to take her place as the matron of the household...suddenly, the only place I found solace was among my roses.” “I understand that,” Derrick muttered in agreeance. “I spent an ungodly amount of time with my plants; my younger brother was thoroughly convinced I was doing something nasty with a squash.” “Oh, that’s disgusting!” “Try having to convince someone that you aren’t!” Getting a laugh out of that, Melanie silently thanked the Lord for the much needed break in the somber mood. “What is it that you like so much about me…?” she inquired, her curiosity taking over. “You’re independent. I like that. I like that you don’t necessarily need me, but you want me. And that’s more than any other girl who’s ever looked my way can say. I never liked the thought of simply becoming some woman’s means to an end because she can’t handle herself.” He looked her square in the eye. “I’ve tended to others long enough; I want someone who can work beside me, and I beside them.” A smile touched his coffee brown eyes. “I never thought that someone would shove me into a church while I was on holiday, but I’ve been told that God works in mysterious ways.” “And here I thought you couldn’t flirt.” “Oh, I can flirt,” he countered, a smirk on his lips. “It’s courting I struggle with. So much damned etiquette and for what?” He shook his head. “All to tell a girl you’re interested in her. If you can’t tell her outright, then why bother with all the cat-and-mouse business?” “You know, I’ve heard that it’s supposed to be a way to make you seem more attractive in their eye, irresistible even, but in a civilized way. The more you play hard to get, the more we want to simply swoon into your arms and say ‘take me’ at the slightest hint of an offer of marriage.” Melanie gagged. “So pointless.” Derrick laughed. “Well thank God you aren’t like that.” “Thank God indeed!” Derrick continued to gaze at her face, his eyes moving to her lips briefly. “Melanie-” Leaning across the corner of the table, she placed her lips firmly against his, once again interrupting his words. He didn’t even flinch; instead, his lips molded to hers, matching her growing sense of urgency. Like they needed to be kissing each other or they’d simply expire. What a ridiculous feeling. She broke the kiss with a giggle at her own thoughts. She felt more than saw Derrick’s smile, sighing softly as he kissed her again. “I have a proposal for you.” “About two years late for that.” “Stuff it. Anyway, I was wondering if you would like to give this relationship a try? And do it for real, this time.” But I wouldn’t want this ridiculous feeling with anyone else. “I think that’s a marvelous idea.”

#shitty dialogue #melanie labelle #derrick rosenthal #hooooly shit #let me know what you think!#my ocs

3 notes · View notes