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vidalinav · 3 years

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Stu(died)-Chapter 3

Summary: Cassian takes care of a sick Nesta

Nessian Modern AU-university setting.

Masterlist, Stu(died) Chapter List

(Rolls eyes hardcore) I am continuing this fic for literally five people. Smh.

Nesta comes to their tutoring session late and that’s the first thing that tips him off. Already his phone is in his hand ready to call 911. He has Nesta’s number in his phone saved. The first person listed in his text log under Nerd. He can always text or call her. He belongs to The Rat Pack in Nesta’s Snap Chat group, and he knows he can always contact Emerie or Gwyn if something is truly wrong. Yet he dials in 911 and his thumb hovers over the call button.

If she doesn’t show up in fifteen minutes, Cassian swears he’ll call.

Nesta’s never late. In fact, she’s annoyingly early. She practically has a stop watch in her hand at all times, counting every minute she waits. When Cassian comes running in five minutes later, as he so often does, panting with some excuse, Nesta doesn’t even bother looking up from her textbook. She merely gestures to the seat, a heavy sigh on her lips, like she’s running out of time to bore him death even as she fascinates him to pieces.

Her books should already be splayed onto the table, her pencils straight and neatly lined up. Today, the table is empty.

He’ll give it fifteen minutes and then he’s calling.

But Nesta shows up before another minute ticks by. She steps out of the elevator wearing that grey polo he’s seen on her a million times. She lugs her way to him, dragging her feet with the weight of those textbooks he’s sure are in her bag.

She’s wearing a mask, today, and that’s another thing that sends his brain screeching somethings not right here! It covers half of her face, and her eyes look tired from where they peak above the fabric. Cassian doesn’t even bother waiting for her to settle. Already he’s crossing his arms, his brows crinkling with concern and something like irritation.

How dare she think studying is more important than her health.

“Go home,” he says as she nears. Nesta only blinks as if as not understanding his words. The fact that she doesn’t immediately argue is enough for him to start gathering his things.

“What are you doing?” She says as he stuffs his notebook in his bag, “You have an exam in two weeks.” Nesta sets down her own, it slaps at the table with a heavy thump. Cassian can hear the zipper unzipping but not as well as the cough that roars out of her mouth.

It’s loud and wet, and Nesta pauses as if to get her bearings, covering her mouth with her arm. She coughs and coughs and Cassian lays a hand to his own chest. He can almost feel how much it hurts, how she gasps.

Cassian shakes his head, “No, I’m taking you home.”

Nesta’s brows furrow and she gets that look in her eyes. He just knows she’s going to fight him on this. “I--”

Cassian cuts her off, “please, save your breath. You’re going to make everyone sick.”

“I’m wearing a mask!” Nesta argues.

“It’s almost midterms.” Cassian gestures to the other occupants in the library. He sees one person with their hoodie pulled up over their head, clearly sleeping... and moves on to someone else. A group in the corner who’s standing by a whiteboard. “You want to take your chances with sleep deprived students?”

Nesta seems to think about that. While she does, Cassian zips up her bag and throws it over his shoulder. It’s as heavy as he thought it might be. Briefly, he thinks of making a joke about how she must have stuffed a body in here, but he doesn’t think she’d appreciate it, given how quiet she is.

Mentally, he starts making a list of everything she needs. Medicine? He’ll get the pills and the syrup, never mind if she scrunches her nose at the taste. He’ll get her soup. Not the canned. Cassian will buy the ingredients. He’s sure he can make something appeasing. Vaguely, he can remember his mom’s recipe. Beef broth and cabbage and squash. Hopefully she can stomach it. Never mind, the salt will be good for her.

“Hey,” she whines, blinking up at him slowly, “give me my bag.”

“Have you not heard me? You need to be home lying down. Not here, helping me study. Why on earth did you think this was a good idea? I’m taking you home.”

Nesta crosses her arms and the intimidation tactic seems ridiculous with her face half covered and her endless sniffling. “You can try, but I’ll just refuse to tell you my apartment number.”

Cassian scoffs, “I know where you live. I can see your room from the house when you study at night.”

“Who says that out loud?” Nesta shouts.

She must be terribly ill if she’s yelling in a library. That’s all he can think as he gestures to the elevator, bags in hand.

“Never mind that. Let’s go,” Cassian says, walking ahead without her.

He can’t hear her shuffling though, so he turns back to find Nesta leaning on a chair, holding her stomach. He can already feel himself sighing.

Cassian rushes back just in time for Nesta to rip off her mask, and move to the closest trashcan. It’s situated under one of the bulletin boards and as Cassian sidles up to her, rubbing at her back and pulling her hair away, he looks to the papers tacked to the board.

Join the rowing team. Looking for tutors. Research participants wanted.

He can hear the retching and Cassian reads on.

Babysitter wanted for professor, transportation needed.

“I haven’t thrown up since middle school,” Nesta says pathetically. She frowns as he hands her his bottle of water. Her nose and cheeks are red and for some reason he thinks of Rudolph, lighting the way for Santa through the storm.

He feels bad for little Rudolph...

“Now will you let me take you home,” Cassian sighs. He hopes it doesn’t sound like an ‘I told you so’ but she should really be lying down. He lays a hand to her forehead, but she brushes him off, moving towards the bathrooms.

“I’ll wait right here,” he says, but Nesta moves ahead as if she doesn’t hear him at all. Cassian can’t find it in himself to mind. A sick Nesta is guaranteed to be a stubborn Nesta, he just knows.

When she gets out, she looks surprised to see him and that’s another look that just proves how sick she must be. It’s a fairly obvious prediction that he’s going to wait next to the girl's bathroom, counting ceiling tiles. It’s a perfectly ‘Cassian with Nesta’ thing to do.

“You’re skipping class?”

Nesta coughs again, and she looks perfectly pitiful as she blinks her tired eyes. Cassian can feel his lips frown, and he shifts her bag more securely on his shoulder if only to keep himself from reaching out for her. Already he can feel his hands bunch into fists because he wants to grab her own and squeeze it until she's reassured. He wants to hug her until she feels better.

But he can’t.

Cassian lists every action he wants to do. Kiss her forehead where Nesta rubs her hand, because she must have a headache from how sick she is. Put on her favorite movie, so she can fall asleep to its sound. Run to every store, raiding every Walgreens and CVS until he comes back with a pharmacy.

What might she allow now that she’s sick? Will she let him fuss like he wants to?

But Nesta rolls her eyes in that haughty way of hers. “You can’t do that.”

“I can’t do what?” Cassian asks and he wonders if she can read his thoughts. If she studies him so well, reads him like one of her textbooks, memorizing facts and facial features.

“You can’t skip class,” she argues. “Why am I tutoring you if you’re going to skip class?”

At the words, all Cassian wants to do is sigh. She’s thinking about attendance at a time like this...

“Nesta, there is no class more important than you.”

Her brows crinkle at the center like she’s going to start arguing, but Cassian allows himself one touch. He places his thumb there, between her brows, smoothing out the lines. Nesta rips away, blinking up dazed and all too confused. Cassian would laugh at the look, if he didn’t need the distraction.

He juts his head to the elevator quickly. “Let’s go. We can walk slow, so don’t overexert yourself.”

Nesta scrunches up her nose, so cute and red, but she follows him anyway albeit a little petulantly. She holds her hand out for her bag, but Cassian turns toward the doors, pretending not to see.

“How does me being sick make you bossy?”

Cassian doesn’t dare to respond. He doesn’t know whether he’ll admit that he wants to take care of her, that’s he’s so worried a knot twists in his stomach, or if he’ll make some joke, he knows will make her mad. Maybe that’s the better option, he thinks. He can handle a mad Nesta. He likes a mad Nesta, but a Nesta who so easily rejects him?

Cassian doesn’t know about that.

“You don’t have any classes left this week, right?”

Nesta coughs into her sleeve before answering. Though she means to sound queenly, she only sounds sick, “you know where I live, and you also know my class schedule... seems suspicious if you ask me.”

“I’ve known you for two years.”

“And murder victims are three times more likely to be killed by someone they know."

Cassian huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, “Do you still go to sleep watching SVU? Or have you switched to Lifetime movies where the babysitters always try to kill the wife?”

“People should be wary about the people they know,” Nesta shrugs as if that’s answer enough.

Cassian snorts, “well you don’t have to be wary of me.”

As the elevator doors open, Cassian gestures for her to go first and Nesta does, but not before crossing her arms.

“That’s just what a murderer would want me to think.” She squints as if dissecting him, limb by limb. “You kill me, and I’ll haunt you. You won’t be able to sleep at night without thinking of me.”

Too late, Cassian thinks.

It’s much too late for that.

Rudolph has the patience of a five-year-old when she’s sick. Cassian learns this fairly quickly when he runs inside a Walgreens on their way to Nesta’s apartment.

There’s a bench that she can sit on, where she can wait if she feels tired, but no. Nesta decides she needs to run errands. She has an entire basket filled by the time he finds her again. She’s by the greeting cards, holding three open at a time. Cassian huffs with a receipt and medicine in hand.

“Here,” he says, giving her the cough medicine. “Take some of this.”

Nesta doesn’t even bother with pouring. He watches as she rips the cap away, taking a swig right out of the bottle, gulping it down.

“That’s way more than the suggested amount,” he cries, “you can get drunk on this stuff!”

“Good, maybe I’ll forget this day ever happened.”

Cassian sighs... it seems all he does is sigh when she’s like this. A sick Nesta is a petulant, irritated Nesta with a permanent furrow between her brows.

“I know you feel sick,” he tries to placate, “but I bet you’d feel a whole lot better if we get you home as soon as we can... so you can lie down and sleep.”

Nesta only picks up another Halloween card. She ignores his suggestion, laughing under her breath as she reads whatever inane joke is written there. Soon, she’s coughing though, and Cassian reaches for the basket just to stop himself from rubbing a hand down her back, combing his fingers through her hair.

Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn, his thoughts scream.

Cassian looks to the contents to distract himself from her watery eyes, and that’s when he notices what she’s grabbed. It seems that while he was in the cold and flu aisle, Nesta was raiding the snacks.

“What is this?” He gestures to the basket. Two boxes of cereal. Caramel corn. Baked Lay’s and cans of Arizona tea. Cassian takes one and holds it up. “Really Nesta?”

“What it’s green tea!” she argues, shoving another card back in its slot.

“This is all... junk,” he tries to explain, but Nesta’s already glowering.

“Look I don’t question your decisions. You don’t question mine.”

Cassian gives her a bland look. “You question my decisions all the time. Before we came in here, you literally said ‘why are we going in here, Cassian? Weren’t you supposed to take me home.’ You said that.”

Nesta simply raises her chin, pulling out another card. “I recall no such thing.”

“Fine,” Cassian grumbles, “if you want to eat yourself to an early grave and ignore everything that could potentially make you feel better than that’s just fine with me.”

“Good,” she says, putting back the other cards. Nesta settles for a pop-up that sings Monster Mash when she opens it. She sets it in the basket he holds, walking ahead without even looking back. “I’m ready to check out.”

“Really?” Cassian jokes, mockingly. “Are you sure you raided the candy aisle?”

Nesta stops in her tracks, peering through the section with printer ink and paper as if she can see the other side. He swears he’d facepalm if he wasn’t carrying all this stuff.

“You’re right,” she says, nodding.

“Wait!” Cassian calls. “Where are you going? Nesta!”

Too late. He can already hear crunching bags.

The variety packs.

Cassian sighs, lugging their things to the aisle next door.

“Can I use these vegetables?” Cassian asks, as Nesta shoves open the door to her room. He’s surprised she’s not still by the freezer. When they first get back to her place, she sticks her head in there and he wonders if he should suggest taking her temperature, or if she’s doing it just to show him she’s annoyed.

Perhaps her ears bleed from the sound of his voice.

That seems like something Nesta would say.

“They’re Emerie’s. Why?”

“To make soup,” Cassian explains, rifling through the contents. There’s zucchini and summer squash. Onion, fresh parsley and carrots. Cabbage and lettuce. Fresh fruit. He can make a nice stew out of this.

Nesta scoffs, “I don’t need soup.”

She enters her room, shoving the door back behind her until it leaves only a crack.

“You can leave now,” she yells. “I’m home like you wanted.”

“Are you lying down?” He asks, crossing his arms sternly though she can’t see him.

Nesta sighs loudly, “you’re annoying!”

“Maybe if you got some rest, I’d be less annoying,” Cassian sings brightly.

He can hear the soft sound of her voice. “Doubt.”

Cassian shakes his head with a smirk. He opens his snapchat where The Rat Pack is the first on the list, but the group name has changed... to People I Tolerate.

That’s got to be Nesta.

Cassian laughs under his breath and types. Can I use your vegetables? Making Nesta soup.

Emerie’s bitmoji pops up at the bottom, but the person who texts back first is not Emerie, but Gwyn.

You’re at our house?

Cassian can almost hear her voice. Stern and cautious. He’s almost certain she doesn’t like him. Gwyn looks at him with even more disdain than Nesta when he's around. That stay away from my friend look.

He sighs. Yes, Nesta’s sick.

Gwyn’s quick to respond. I can come home early. I need to drop off a paper, but I can be there in 30.

Cassian rolls his eyes and types, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of her.

Nesta’s face pops up. I can take care of myself.

“No, you can’t!” Cassian yells.

“Yes, I can!” Nesta yells back, but then she starts coughing again and he can hear her groan in the other room. Cassian raises a brow at her door.

I’m going to make soup. I’ll make enough for all of you, but can I use stuff from the fridge? I’ll replace it all.

Emerie’s face pops up and then disappears quickly. He’s about ready to go to the store himself or at least next door to the House, but Emerie’s text appears.

I have no objections to this.

Cassian smiles in relief, and he’s about to set down his phone when another notification appears. It’s Emerie again.

And if you make good soup, you can stay indefinitely.

Cassian sends a winking emoji. Nesta sends back the emoji with the straight mouth and eyes. Before he can frown at what that means, Cassian sees that the group name has changed... to Three’s Company.

That’s got to be Gwyn.

Stone cold, Emerie texts back.

Cassian decides he’s going to ignore that for the moment and focus on the objective at hand.

Soup.

Cassian pulls out the vegetables and looks through the cupboards. Emerie, it seems, has all the good spices. He finds the broth packets stored in the back, and he pulls out some beef from the freezer. It’ll need to defrost but he can start the broth now, get the vegetables soft, and brown the beef later. It’ll take a couple of hours anyway.

Occasionally, he hears a cough as he works. Then a sweet laugh... followed by a cough and a groan. Cassian feels bad for her he does, but he can’t help but find the whole situation amusing. She should be resting and yet she seems to be wide awake.

Nesta doesn’t come out of her room though. It’s as if he’s not even there, and he takes that time to look over her shared apartment. There are three doors, each with a letter at the front. The N is blue, the E, green, and the G, pink. He doesn’t know how it’s possible to have a living room that looks like all three, but somehow it works. It’s studious and bright. Colorful, but subdued. There are way too many throw pillows and books scattered everywhere, but there’s also a TV with a fireplace under it. He can just imagine Nesta laughing at scary movies. Some slasher fic she’ll watch like she’s taking notes.

He can imagine Nesta everywhere, in fact.

This is where she eats. Where she sits. Where she studies. This is where she trips over shoes if they’re not neatly lined up and where she complains about dirty dishes. This is where she cooks... if she does cook. Cassian doesn’t know.

Maybe he’ll get to find out one day.

Once the water starts boiling and the meat is in the microwave to defrost, Cassian goes to check how Rudolph is doing.

He knocks on her door lightly, pushing it open. “Nesta?”

Cassian’s never seen her room before, say for when she sits by the window with her curtains wide open, and just like then, it seems like an invasion of privacy to do so now. But Nesta’s plopped on top of her bed, tucked beneath her blue comforter, and she sets down her phone when he appears at the door.

Her whole room is filled with blues and creams, and it looks exactly what he imagines Nesta’s room to look like. The large calendar, an agenda on the desk, bookshelf after bookshelf lining her walls. There are also things he doesn’t know of her yet. Pictures and posters and a.... stuffed lobster? Cassian holds it up.

“Would you stop looking around?” Nesta groans. She has her arm resting over her eyes, and he wonders if it’s because she doesn’t want to see him looking or if she feels that bad that the light is bothering her.

She should be getting some rest, he thinks.

“Where did you get a stuffed lobster?”

Nesta coughs out her response.

The sound makes Cassian grimace, his chest ache with need, but he doesn’t rush over like he wants to. This is her house, her room... and this is Nesta who doesn’t like to be coddled by anyone.

“It’s a heat pack,” she says at last, after she catches her breath.

“A heat pack?” Cassian looks to the soft red claws that dangle. He’s never seen anything so soft be a heat pack.

“For cramps,” she says as if it’s obvious. Nesta must take his silence to mean ignorance for she lifts onto her elbows, raising a judgmental brow. “Please tell me you know what periods are or am I am going to have to go back to teaching you biology?”

“No,” Cassian draws out, “I know what periods are.”

Nesta mumbles a thank god and Cassian watches as she shifts under the covers, pulling them up until they hover just beneath her mouth.

“Are you cold?” Cassian asks, looking around her room. He spots his burgundy hoodie neatly folded and nearly yanks it from her desk. “Here. Wear my sweatshirt.”

“I just washed it,” Nesta whines, “I was going to give it back to you.”

Cassian’s confused by the words, but he merely gestures for her to budge up. He’s thankful when she doesn’t argue. He rolls the sweatshirt over her head and Nesta fits her arms through the sleeves.

“You didn’t have to wash it,” he says, watching as she pats down her hair. If only he could pull it up for her, comb his fingers through it. She could use his scrunchie too, if she wanted.

Nesta rolls her eyes, and he can only imagine what she thinks. He can practically hear the words. Of course, you wouldn’t care about clean clothes.

Her expressions practically give her away--everything she feels and thinks. Cassian wonders if he knows how open she is to the rest of the world. He wonders if she’d hate him if he told her this.

“It was going to smell like me,” she frowns.

Cassian wants to huff out a laugh. That is perfectly fine by him.

“Stop laughing,” she whines, “I’m being serious.”

“Yes, you’re being very serious.” He can’t help his smirk as he gazes up at her. He doesn’t even realize he’s on her bed, sitting to the side of her all bunched up in red. Her nose to the fabric. He almost wants to say she looks cute in his hoodie, all sick like that, but he knows she’ll only bite at him, remarking about how he has some weird fetish for sick girls.

Cassian holds back a laugh as he hears the microwave ding. He needs to turn the meat around, so it doesn’t cook through, but Nesta grips his arm. His head whips towards her and... Nesta’s gazing up at him. Her eyes are a soft blue. Just like her room.

“You’re warm,” she says. To explain herself, he thinks, and why she holds him as if she doesn't want him to move.

Cassian’s lips raise lightly, and he places the back of his hand on her forehead. “You must be worse than you’re letting on if you're okay with me being in your bed.”

Nesta scoffs, “you’re on it. Not in it. I’ll make that distinction very clear.”

“You can’t be that sick then,” Cassian shrugs, smiling. “If you’re making everything sound like a tutoring session.”

Her cheeks flush a bright pink and Cassian thinks she must have a fever. He wonders if he should search for an ice pack or make one, so she doesn’t get too hot.

“Are you tired?” He asks, noting how slowly she blinks. “You did drink a lot of cough syrup.”

“I also took a NyQuil,” she says, closing her eyes.

Cassian huffs, “remind me to teach you how read warning labels when your fully coherent.”

He can hear the microwave ding again, and it reminds him of an alarm. Wake up! It seems to say. Being in Nesta’s room does feels like falling asleep. Rather dream-like and hazy. The microwave dings incessantly, but Cassian doesn’t want to wake up just yet.

Her hand is still on his arm. It’s so much smaller than his and he wants to trace the skin there and see if it’s as soft as it looks. Cassian doesn’t dare look at her, in case she doesn’t just bang together two loud cymbals and tell him to get up and out and away.

Cassian looks ahead instead, fixing his gaze on the stuffed lobster on her desk.

“Nesta,” he starts and then swallows. He feels nervous, his hands clammy. “Nesta, I really think you and I... we’d be good together.”

Cassian takes a breath, and he stares at the lobster as if it’s her face. “We’ve known each other for a long time now and I... I haven’t hid how I feel about you.” His heart is beating way too fast, and he doesn’t feel any freer from speaking the words, but Cassian decides it’s time to rip the Band-Aid off. “I thought maybe... we could try it out. See if you might be comfortable with it. If you might like me... too?”

He doesn’t know why he words that like a question, but Nesta doesn’t say a word. Cassian looks back, hoping there’s no disgust in baby blue. He doesn’t know what he’d do if she just outright says he’s trash and she’ll never like him.

But Nesta’s fast asleep.

Cassian doesn’t bother sighing as he grips her limp hand, setting it on the blanket. He doesn’t bother being disappointed when he tucks the comforter around her. Her cheeks are a lobster-red and he rubs a thumb lightly there, wondering what it would be like to hold her face in his palm and kiss at her nose. Would she complain as he pecked her lips? You’ll get sick Cassian.

Then we can stay in bed together, Nesta.

No. Cassian’s not disappointed at all.

He’ll tuck away his dreams where tomorrow lives.

Today, he’ll stick to what he’s good at, so Cassian heads to the kitchen to make soup.

~ ~

Mwahahahaahah

In case you missed, here’s the stuffed lobster in the flesh.

Tagged:

@arinbelle @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @nestaarcher0n @duskandstarlight @soitsgorgeous @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @thewhelk @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell @lovelynesta @sirendeepity @champanheandluxxury @ladynestaarcheron @moodymelanist @teagoddess99 @spoilersteph @angelic-voice-1997 @bo0kmaster69 @drielecarla @generalnesta @cozycomfyliving08 @confusedfandomslut @dread3r @sv0430

"Why am I still writing this fic?" I say angrily, as I angrily type it in my angry word document.

#nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #nessian fanfiction #vidalinav writes #Stu(died)

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slasherbastard · 3 years

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Stockholm Syndrome - Brahms Heelshire

(gif credit: boodalinski)

Request: Thank you, so I was wondering if I could get one for Brahms. Where the reader (preferably a girl you can do gn, if you like!!) moves from the states to the u.k for a job. And she comes across Brahms home bc she got lost. And she steps inside and spends the night there and he like stalks her from the walls. And the next morning he like knocks her out and takes her hostage after she tries to leave, bc shes his new obsession. Maybe Stockholm syndrome if you’re comfortable with doing that. I’m not sure if you write smut or anything like that.

Warning: light smut Word count: 2639 Notes: okay okay so I redid the ending and added the smut, that’s the last time I try to write when sleep deprived

Brahms wasn't expecting guests that night but then you stumbled upon the manor. Ever since Greta left to who knows where Brahms had no one to look after him so he was left to look after himself. Now that he didn't have to worry about hiding away from any nannies he was free to roam the rooms of the house instead of just observing from the walls. It was nice for him, being able to eat warm meals whenever he pleased without having to worry about them being freezing out while he waited for the nanny to stray far enough from the kitchen that it'd be safe enough for him to leave the walls and steal the food like a rat.

It was getting late and Brahms couldn't sleep, the loneliness was eating him alive and he was starving because apparently 4 PB&J sandwiches weren't enough for him. Brahms hated to admit it but he missed Greta and needed her - no, he needed someone to just care for him and love him the way she could've. The next thing Brahms knew he was out of the walls and making yet another PB&J for himself, rubbing his tired eyes as he screwed the lid back onto the jar of jam.

That's when he heard the front door open and he froze. There was definitely time for Brahms to grab his sandwich to run back to one of the few entries into the walls but worry filled him as he abandoned the meal and found the hole in the parlour where a mirror once hung. Within a few seconds you walked past one of the slits in the wallpaper and Brahms held his breath as a stranger walked into the kitchen.

"Hello? I'm sorry to intrude but I'm lost and-" She stopped as she saw the freshly made sandwich sitting on the counter and spun around and Brahms watched her every move. He watched as this girl cautiously looked around before grabbing the sandwich and taking a bite out of it, Brahms expected himself to be angry. How dare a complete stranger just waltz into his home and eat his food? But for some reason he wasn't mad, in fact, something about the stranger fascinated him. "Whoever made this, this is a surprisingly good PB&J. Is this place haunted?" She muttered the last bit to herself and Brahms quietly chuckled behind his mask as she put away the items Brahms had left out and finished the sandwich before walking upstairs and continuing to talk to herself, blabbering about how she was giving herself 'horror movie' vibes.

She yawned as she reached the top of the stairs and peaked into the bedrooms still quietly calling out just in case somebody actually was home, and nobody was to her knowledge. Brahms followed her through the walls as she found one of the guest bedrooms and yawned again. The stranger dropped the bag she was holding onto the floor and crawled into the bed, tiredly talking to herself. "Alright, Y/N. Just go to sleep then leave as soon as you wake up." 'Y/N' what a beautiful name.

Brahms quietly chanted the name under his breath as he watched her fall onto the bed and snuggle into the small stream of blankets. He didn't have Greta anymore but that didn't matter because now he has you, Y/N.

You opened your eyes as the memories from last night came back to you. You'd caught a bus straight from the airport to what you were hoping was a cheap motel but instead you managed to miss your stop and got dropped off in the middle of nowhere. This would've been fine if it wasn't the last bus scheduled for the night and you weren't suffering from the effects of jetlag after leaving the states for a job you didn't even want in the first place, you tried calling a cab but your phone couldn't pick up a signal.

A lot of the night was a haze. Most of it was spent walking in the dark until you found a manor, then you decided that going inside would be a great idea, then you fell asleep in said manor, and now here you are awake in the manor. You grabbed your phone off the stand beside the bed and realised it was dead before taking it and sliding out of the bed. A sudden loud noise came from downstairs and really woke you up.

You'd been so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't realise someone was standing right next to the bed, until you looked over and saw the towering figure of a masked man. You tried to scream but before you knew it you were waking up again with a raging headache and your arms bound behind a wooden column. You tried to scan your surroundings but it was too dark to see anything, now this place was really giving you horror movie vibes and you weren't going to be the final girl after this.

The ropes around your wrists were starting to burn as you continued to struggle against them, biting your lip as the pain got stronger. You let out a frustrated groan and slammed your back into the column. "Hello!" You yelled out. Now you were 100% certain that somebody was home, what if they were watching? "I swear my damn arms are gonna fall off." You felt the ropes loosen as your arms moved a little more freely but you were still stuck.

"Don't." You stopped and looked up. The light flicked on and a familiar figure stood a few feet away from you just staring at your helpless position on the floor. "You'll hurt yourself." He got closer and you continued trying to free yourself from the ropes as he got on his knees and was only inches away from your face, you hadn't realised he was wearing a mask this entire time - of course, this was the first time you were able to get a proper look at his face. You felt the ropes slip and one of your arms was free but the man was too distracted to realise this as you freed your second arm and held the rope in place. He stroked your cheek and tilted his head slightly, his cold touch made you cringe and he pulled back for a second before continuing. You could hear him whispering something under that creepy mask. "Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N."

You almost didn't realise you had kicked him until he fell back, your delayed reaction wasn't enough to help you successfully escape as he was onto you the second you had stood up, pulling you back down as you screamed for help even though you knew nobody could hear you. He dragged you over to a small bed in the corner of the room and threw you onto it, you tried to get off but he was on top of you before you could make another move. Through that mask of his you could see his eyes, they looked desperate and hungry for something.

"Are you going to kill me?" His expression softened at those words but he gripped your arms tighter just in case you used this as a chance as to attempt another escape but instead you just watched him, expecting him to either wrap his hands around your neck or maybe stab you but he just watched you.

"Why would I hurt my pretty Y/N?"

You felt your heart stop and your chest ache at the same time. "Who are you?" You tried to wiggle free from his grip but he wasn't letting you go anywhere.

"Brahms."

You were supposed to be preparing lunch but you couldn't focus. You don't know how many days or weeks or even months have passed by now but somehow you were still alive. Brahms wasn't shy to show his obvious feelings towards you just hoping that maybe one day you'd return them, maybe you'd stop trying to run away if he showed you how loved you were by him. Brahms hasn't stopped trying to prove to you that you don't need anyone but him, especially considering that he was the only person you were going to be seeing for the rest of your life.

While Brahms wasn't afraid to show you that he loved you, you weren't afraid to show him how much you hated him - although, you weren't exactly sure why you acted that way. Sure, you were pissed that you ended up getting held hostage by a captor who wears a creepy mask the night you arrived in a new country but there was something about him that made you want to stay. In fact, you hadn't attempted another escape in what felt like forever. You didn't want to hate Brahms but there was a part of you forcing yourself to - maybe it was because you didn't want to admit that you had developed feelings for him.

You had no idea if Brahms noticed that your hatred for him was just a façade now. At night he'd cuddle up to you and you wouldn't try to fight him off like you used to, you also stopped ignoring him anytime he came into a room but that didn't mean you were getting friendly with him. Neither of you had gotten to that point in this unlikely 'friendship' where you felt like you could tell this man anything but you did wonder what would happen if you just told him. Sighing, you turned around and bumped into none other than Brahms.

Gasping, you quickly apologised and tried to run off somewhere but he grabbed your upper arm and held you in place. Looking up at him through the eyeholes of at mask you waited for him to tell you that he was hungry but instead he just looked at you. "What is it, Brahms?"

"Come with me." He didn't wait before he dragged you out of the kitchen and eventually you were both outside that loft when Brahms slammed your back into one of the walls. You groaned and cringed in pain before looking at up Brahms.

"What the hell was that-" Brahms threw a hand over your eyes and you froze when you felt hot breath on your neck. "Brahms?" You shook your head, trying to get Brahms to remove his hand from your face but it wouldn't budge as you suddenly felt his lips on your neck leaving light kisses heading up towards your jaw, sucking and biting on the areas. You bit your lip and tried not to react while also focusing on the sensation of his chapped yet soft lips against your skin. You felt your body moving on your own as you tried to get closer to Brahms needing a bit of friction to continue but he denied it and continued his little act before moving away for a brief moment then connecting his lips to yours. Taken aback, you hesitated trying to figure out whether you should kiss him back but before you knew it you'd lost control and your lips were moving in sync with his.

Brahms wanted to feel your body, to explore it, but he couldn't with one hand hiding himself you and the other clutching the mask. He wanted to drop it, shatter that porcelain thing into pieces just so you could see who he truly was without any restrictions. If you reacted badly then glue could fix the mask but nothing could fix what was your relationship.

Just as the two of you were getting into it Brahms broke away and you took that moment to catch your breath before Brahms removed his hand and you could see him readjusting that porcelain mask of his as you turned to run and find your way out of the walls but you stopped when you heard his voice. "Y/N I know you love me." You stopped and heard gentle movements behind you before Brahms appeared in front of you. "You do love me, right?"

You looked up at him with wide eyes at the realisation that he knew that you'd let your guard down ages ago, and you clearly didn't just kiss him for no reason. It was so damn obvious but you still wanted to say no. "Yes." dammit. Brahms looked at you as if he was waiting for you to say something else but you couldn't find the right words. Taking a breath and looking him dead in the eyes you finally spoke. "I. . .I-"

He got closer to you. "Tell me you love me, Y/N." Something within him seemed desperate as he tried to close in the small space between the two of you until your chests were almost connected. "Y/N?"

"I love you Brahms." You don't know exactly what you'd expected in that moment, maybe a hug? Did you expect him to cry? Whatever wholesome reaction you waited for from him never came. Instead, Brahms stuck a hand out for you and you took it without really thinking much of it as he slowly lead you into the loft. Although he was taking his time there was a sense of desperation circling him as he sat down longways on the bed and pulled you onto his lap and held onto you, his hands moving down to your lower back. This whole time his eyes were on you and your eyes were on him. "Brahms?"

"Mhmm?" He hummed, his hands now playing with the bottom of your shirt.

You leaned in close to Brahms' ear and whispered. "If we're going to do this, then I want to at least be able to see who's fucking me." You pulled away and planned to make eye contact with Brahms again but you barely got the chance before he switched the position.

"No." You felt your stomach churn as he said it, his voice had dropped as if he were pissed off but there was still a playful tinge behind it. Brahms wasted no time ripping your shirt off and bringing his masked face down to yours and kissing you through the mask. Suddenly he pulled away and reached over underneath his pillow and you threw your head back and watched as he pulled out a long piece of fabric. "Do you trust me?"

You were hesitant for a few seconds as Brahms messed around with the makeshift blindfold, still waiting for your reply. "Please, Y/N. I promise I'll make you feel good." He whined but you didn't need to be asked twice as you sat up and Brahms covered your eyes with the fabric and tied it off behind your head and pushed you back down onto the bed. You heard a light clank and tried to peak under the fabric to catch a glimpse of Brahms without that creepy mask on but all you saw was his head of dark curly hair as he began planting kisses, making his way down to your core.

Brahms woke up and immediately looked down at the girl in his arms and smiled under his mask and held back the urge to caress her face or move the hair away from her eyes, afraid he'd wake her. Y/N shifted her weight in her sleep and cuddled into Brahms' chest as he continued to hold onto her not daring to move. He wanted to laugh, cry tears of joy, because he really couldn't believe that he finally had the one thing he'd wanted ever since his own parents stopped treating him like their son, he finally had someone who loved him. "You're finally mine, Y/N." He whispered and nuzzled his face into her hair.

#slasher #writing #horror #brahms heelshire #the boy #the boy 2016 #afab reader

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writingtostaysane · 5 years

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The first part of Chapter 1. I have writers block so I couldn’t get past this point, but I hope you like it.

Taglist (tell me if you wanna be added or removed): @flyingsassysaddles @ask-the-new-columbian-colonies @oukimuni

Criticism and feedback is always welcome! Now for the story.

—

7 years later...

Annie was asleep, blissfully aware to the world outside already awake and going about their day. She was dreaming sweet dreams and really didn’t want to get up. Her people needed her! If she didn’t complete the quest and slay the dragon, all hope would be lost. She approached the beast carefully, sword in hand and shield in the other. This creature was a smart one, so it would be hard to outwit it. But just as soon as she raised her sword to attach, the dragon let out a ferocious roar!

BEEP BEEP BEEP

She shot up in bed, looking around confused. That wasn’t what dragons sound like. And where was she? This wasn’t the dragon’s cave…

No. It wasn’t. This was her apartment and it was time for her to get up. She groaned and flopped back down onto the bed and blindly reached around for the snooze button on her alarm clock to silence the loud sound. Once the beeping stopped, she sat up once again and stretched her arms. Time to start the day.

Annie made quick work of her morning routine. In succession, she brushed her teeth, got dressed for work, and took a look in the mirror. She was wearing her uniform for work, a black shirt and skirt combo with a tan apron, but her eyes drifted to the mess that was her hair. Her curly hair looked more like a rat’s nest than anything. She fixed it up and managed to tame it, but it took a while. Finally, she grabbed a bagel for breakfast.

Munching on the bagel, she checked her phone for any notifications. She had 2 new texts from Cameron and one from Davis. She opened them and scanned them quickly. Cameron was screaming about some concert tickets they won and Davis was reminding her to call him later. Normal stuff. Checking the time, she did a double take. 9:42?? I’m gonna be late for my shift!

Hurriedly grabbing her bag and keys, Annie ran out the door and out onto the sidewalk. Turning to the left, she sprinted down the street, weaving in and out of people, trying not to bump into anybody. Eventually she slowed down to a jog, allowing her to catch her breath. She couldn’t show up to work all disheveled, which is what would happen if she ran all the way to the coffee shop she worked at.

Finally arriving at The Caffeine Corner, she pushed the door open, causing a little jingle to play, and walked in. It wasn’t very crowded with most of the regular customers already being at work. There was some light music playing in the background along with light chatter of people having breakfast. One of her coworkers, Jackson, called out to her.

“Annie! You’re finally here. You just missed the first wave of coffee-loving zombies trying to get to work. Such a shame, there were some funny conversations that I heard,” said Jackson, who was currently managing the cashier.

She smiled a little. It was daily entertainment for the two of them to try and find the most ridiculous conversations they heard while manning the cashier and while moving around the cafe. Some of the best ones happened early in the morning, when people were sleep deprived and trying to get to work on time. Annie herself usually missed that time due to her shift being a bit later in the morning, but Jackson made sure to regale her with the tales of whatever stupidity he had heard coming out of customers’ mouths.

As fun as it was talking about the meaningless jumble of words that came out of people’s mouths, they had work to do. To ‘maximize work time and increase efficiency’ or whatever their boss Karen was always going on about, the two workers split up the tasks. Jackson would continue manning the cash register, while Annie would take orders to and from customers and just do general waitressy things.

While serving some of the regular patrons, she noticed a commotion happening at the back of the cafe. She could hear yelling that was slowly getting louder. She sighed. She didn’t want to deal with this today. Angry customers were an unfortunate side effect of waitressing, even on a normal day Annie had no patience for them. But she still had to go over to assess the problem and see what she could do. Not like she could do much. Jackson was better with dealing with these types of situations, it was why he manned the register most days.

Putting her tray down on an empty table and walked over to the offending party. The commotion seemed to be caused by a middle aged woman. She was a regular and was known for having a bit of a temper, according to Jackson.

“Bit of a temper” my ass. She has a kilos worth of a temper, Annie mused to herself.

Forcing a customer service smile on, she cleared her throat, gaining the attention of the fighting customers. The middle aged woman’s face twisted into a smug grin, much to the chagrin of her companion.

“See? An employee has come to deal with your bullshit!” she exclaimed.

The person she had been fighting with, a young girl who looked like she might be the lady’s daughter, leveled Annie with an unimpressed look.

“What bullshit? The only bullshit I see is whatever you’re spewing,” she shot back.

This continued on for a few good minutes, both parties completely ignoring Annie in favor of badly insulting each other. Once they had started breaking out what looked like personal jabs at each other, her patience wore thin.

“Ladies, ladies. Can we please stop fighting? It’s disturbing the other customers who are trying to eat lunch.”

That got their attention. They both turned to face her, visibly annoyed at her stopping their cat fight.

“Good. You’ve stopped. Now what seems to be the problem?”

The older woman spoke first.

“This brat here is saying she won’t go to see that one movie about the fish with me, even though I asked her TEN times!” she screeched.

The younger woman sighed, “Mom. I already saw that movie with you like seven times. I’m not seeing it again.”

“But it’s a masterpiece!”

“I don’t care! I don’t want to go see it only for you to cry about an animated fish for 2 hours.”

The mom huffed and crossed her arms. It seemed they had gone back to the core of the argument, one of the pair didn’t want to go to a thing the other wanted to go to, so now they were fighting like children. Ridiculous. Is this really what she had to come over to settle? Annie was currently done with this woman’s shit.

“Well if you’re done screaming about a fish, could you go back to your table? I have other customers to get to and you’re causing a disturbance.”

This seemed to offend the woman in some way, causing her to adopt a disgusted look on her face and march out of the cafe in a huff, her daughter following behind her with a huge grin on her face.

Annie let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She hated dealing with customers who thought they were always right. She hated that saying as well. It should really be ‘The Customer Is Only Sometimes Right, Like Any Normal Person’.

Walking back over to counter, she walked behind it to get started on some orders for other customers, who were all waiting patiently to her delight, and noticed Jackson talking to some of their coworkers who had just walked in. It seemed he was about to go on break and was informing Luka, one of the other people who manned the cash register most often, about the customers that might cause her a problem. Annie grabbed a platter and loaded it with plates. The lunch rush was about to start, and she wanted to have as much of a headstart on serving customers as she could. Grabbing the edge of the platter with one hand, she went around and gave people their food. One or two customers yelled at her for getting their order wrong or something like that. But most of the people that came in were quite polite and didn’t give her any trouble.

Soon enough, the rush was over and her break time was almost here. Her arms were sore from the sheer amount of coffees she had to make in rapid succession. Yeah, they were usually busy, but it seemed like today the world had it out for her. Only a few more customers to serve and then she could go on break. She allowed her mind to entertain the thought of the glory that is break time a bit longer, until a voice broke her out of her daydream.

“Hey. You there? Can I order now?”

Annie focused on the source of the voice, a young woman with long black hair, sporting an amused smile.

“Oh! Of course, sorry. I must have zoned off. Sorry you had to break me out of my trance, usually my coworker would have done it by now, but I guess he zoned off as well,” Annie replied, attempting at some humor to not have the customer mad at her, “Now what would you like to order?”

“A medium coffee and a croissant, please.”

“Okay. And can I get a name for that order?”

“Cana.”

Annie smiled. The name fit her. And the girl seemed very nice, and thankfully not mad at her for being distracted.

“Ok. I’ll bring you the coffee and croissant in a bit. You can go find a seat.”

“Thank you.” Cana said to her with a smile.

Annie watched as the girl went to sit down at a table before focusing her attention on the next customer. She had wrote down the orders of around 3 more people when Jackson called to her that Cana’s order was ready. He had come off break and was now preparing orders. Taking over the cash register, he handed her the food and started ringing up the other customers.

Now all she had to do was remember where Cana’s table was. This was probably the thing she was the worst at. There were so many people and instead of them coming up to get there food, the staff doubled as waiters and waitresses, bringing them their food so that they didn’t have to stop if they were working or doing homework. The cafe was very popular with students from the local university, so the practice got them a lot of good reviews. --something about finding a table here--

If I remember correctly, she had gone to sit in the back, over in the corner. Annie thought to herself.

It seemed her suspicions were correct, as when she looked over at the back corner, she spotted that long black hair she remembered. There she was. Walking over, she noticed that Cana seemed to be in the middle of sketching something in a small notebook. Not wanting to startle her, she decided to call out so she knew Annie was there.

“Cana?”

She looked up from her notebook and smiled when she saw Annie and the food.

“Here’s your food,” she said, placing it down on the table, “If you want to order anything else, just come up to the counter.”

“Thank you.”

Annie just smiled and turned around, walking back to the front of the cafe. Though, as she walked away, she swore she could feel Cana’s gaze lingering on her back.

---

#reincarnated hearts #my writing

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hangonimevolving · 6 years

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Camp NOLA

In accordance with a family tradition that appears to have formed over the last 3-4 years, I took the kids on our annual weeklong trip to my beloved hometown of New Orleans last week. The last few years, I’ve found myself running there every 2nd week of August, in that summertime Black Hole period between the end of the kids’ school-based summer camp, and the start of the new school year. A week at Ajima and Thatha’s house has become its own little summer camp to our crew: Camp NOLA :)

This year, I’d be flying there on my own with the two kids, while Dr. Spouse stayed back to complete an on-call week before flying out for the second weekend. My first experience flying solo with the crazies was on our first official Camp NOLA week in 2015, which I blogged about here - that time we traveled earlier in the summer, between the school year’s end and the start of summer camp. But same basic idea. Anyway, since that first brave voyage, I’ve traveled a shitload of times with both kids on my own, and I like to think I’m kind of an old pro at it by now. It’s gotten significantly easier, in many ways, now that both kids are independently mobile and fairly reliable walking and holding hands in crowded airports, managing security checks expertly, and all that - just earlier this year, we started traveling without a stroller, and it was like the heavens parted and rays of light streamed down around me from the heavens. Oh, to have the freedom to breeze through security without having to disassemble a stroller and manage all the stuff, only to put it all back together on the other side of the metal detector! To skip, hop, and sashay directly into the aircraft from the jet bridge, without having to unstrap the kids, bark at them to stand aside so other people can pass while I sweat and heave and disassemble the thing for the cargo hold! Life has changed.

The kids are pretty good fliers, but certain people (ahem, DEY) are still a little bit rambunctious and animated in the airplane.... sigh.

Time spent at my parents’ house is always fun for the kids. Vev frequently, and in great descriptive detail, talks about all the reasons why he likes my parents’ house better than our own. I am simultaneously touched and miffed by his honesty. But I know why it is they love the place. Aside from the obvious, awesome thing that my parents’ house has going for it - MY PARENTS - the kids also just love to sort through all the random crap that they have, most of which dates back to my own childhood. My pack rat parents have thrown very little away when it comes to my old toys, books, and childhood accoutrement, and this delights the kids to no end.

Take, for example, Vev’s infatuation with my Lego cargo airplane set, which I probably acquired when I was around 8 years old, and managed to preserve in its box still fully assembled (thank god - b/c I likely wouldn’t be able to put it together now!)

Dey had a great time building and demolishing and rebuilding a hospital from one of my sister’s Lego sets:

Another relic of my childhood, which Vev enjoyed creeping me out with on the daily: my childhood rocking chair, which still lives in my bedroom (this is despite the fact that I didn’t not actually grow up in the house where my parents currently live; clearly, they never got rid of the chair, despite them having moved 2 times since I was a kid, the last time when I was in my 20′s). The chair is the perfect size for Vev, and every morning, early in the wee hours, I’d open my bleary eyes, and immediately see this:

Such a creeper, that kid.

My dad, in his perpetual hyperness, did a generous (and kind of crazy) thing, and sprung for two expensive mountain bikes for the kids. I was kind of bewildered that he’d done that, when they’re going to outgrow these bike sizes so fast, and there’s also no easy way for us to transport the bikes back here to Florida... but, he’s an excited grandfather, so I guess he exercised his prerogative to spoil his grandkids rotten. The kids honestly LOVED their bikes, and went on twice-daily bike rides in the neighborhood park.

Dey had actually never ridden a bike prior to this, and he rapidly gained skill in it over the week - although he picked up the skill of speed far quicker and more easily than he has the skill of steering. It’s a nerve-wracking situation. Oh, and he refused to wear a helmet. So, yeah - he’s all over the place.

One of the kids’ favorite things about stays at Ajima’s house are the relaxed sleeping arrangements and bedtime routine... which is to say, there really wasn’t one. They were staying up waaaaay past their normal bedtimes at home, and sleeping either with each other or with me in my bed. Sleep deprivation and bad sleep hygiene are hallmarks of our summer NOLA getaways. They didn’t really seem to be affected by this, but I was fucking exhausted the entire stay.

NOLA means beignets!!!!! Hurray for fried carbs and mountains of sugar!!!

This NOLA trip was even more special than usual, because my uncle A and aunt N (father’s youngest brother and his wife) were visiting my parents from India, so we got to catch up with them and spend lots of quality time. It was also wonderful to have not one, but TWO Ajimas and Thathas around the house for child entertainment, conversation, and feeding. Glorious! We spent a few evenings of their stay going through some old home videos that my mom recently had converted to DVD. The stills below are from a 1994 trip to India that my family took to spend time with relatives. The weird looking preteen in the awkward head scarf and navy striped get-up is yours truly :) And the lady in the green sari is my paternal grandmother, Rajalakshmi (nickname Mani). We lost her very suddenly and heartbreakingly in May 2002, and none of us have quite gotten over how she was yanked out of our lives... it was poignant but wonderful to see her again on film, looking so animated and full of life. My dad and uncle sat in silence, watching these videos for hours.....

After about six days of being relative homebodys, playing with tons of old but dear toys, hanging out wth Ajima, Thatha, Thatha A and Ajima N, Thursday rolled around and Dr. Spouse arrived. The kids were happy to see Daddy, and his arrival signaled the chance for us to go out, do some excursions and sightseeing, and visit with friends.

Annual trip to the Riverwalk - a shopping and entertainment plaza along the Mississippi River, affording lots of chances to watch boats and freighters go by...

Dinner out at a Creole restaurant, where clearly our eyes were waaaay bigger than our stomachs!

Something I’ve wanted to do for a super long time - maybe 2-3 years - is to take the kids to a local small, organic farm near my folks’ house called Sugar Roots Farm. They have open community days on Saturdays, and somehow on our annual trips, we’ve managed to not spend full Saturdays in town, and thus haven’t been able to visit. But this time, we did - and we got some hands-on learning about sustainable farming, farm-to-table food production, and of course, animals!

This place is literally behind my parents’ house - its so weird!

Excited to see a tractor.... our main frame of reference with tractors are the ones that get cow-tipped in the Disney Pixar movie “Cars.”

Horses were intimidating.

Ponies were more up the alley of certain people.

We bought feed cups for a dollar so we could make friends with the goats, sheep, alpacas, and chickens.... but in the end, apparently my lionhearted sons were terrified of the teeth on most of these animals, so I got to feed them myself, haha :)

Feeding chickens was manageable, I guess.

Dey’s reaction to the rabbits was hilarious. He ran over to this enclosure, spotted a large white rabbit hopping around, immediately turned around making this face and exclaimed “Look, a bunny! It’s a bunny! It’s a GIRL!!!!” then just ran off again. Uh, what? Why do you assume its a girl?!!! It was so weird!!!

A GIANT pig. A very sleepy giant pig.

Quack quack quack.

Daddice with the boys.

This was an enjoyable way to spend an hour and change one morning!

Later that same day, we took a VERY special day trip to Baton Rouge, to the home of my cousin and bestie, Neets. She and her hubby B have two daughters, S and M, and they just put a new swimming pool in the yard of the home they’ve lived in for the last 2 years. We were excited to have a swimming playdate together, so I picked up a special gift for the girls which was immediately put to use: a giant inflatable rainbow cloud. Cousin bonding time!

I absolutely love this woman <3

Our final evening in New Orleans was spent playing tourist in my hometown. Ajima and Thatha accompanied us on a mule carriage tour of the French Quarter, where Bonnie the Mule and her driver/guide regaled us on the super-interesting history of the city. It was a throwback to my elementary and middle school History classes and field trips, where we’d tour historic sites and antebellum homes, write essays and field trip reports and special projects about Louisiana history and the mixed Creole, French, Spanish, and American culture of New Orleans.

Our attempt to recreate one of our iconic wedding pictures.... unfortunately the, er, large gentleman in the background decided to join us for the fun.

Updated family version.... how far we’ve come.

All too soon, it was time to bid goodbye to Ajima and Thatha, and to our delightful Camp NOLA. And now we’re back to Camp Memmy in our Miami home.... which is significantly less exciting for everyone involved!!!

#travel #NOLA

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