#insert joke about ‘raking the forests’ here

[mass-convergence]

I still remember this one day in fall when I was a kid that stuck with me.

It was at some point when I was in high school I believe. It was the weekend, the day was dreary and cold. A steady rain fell all day with the occasional gust of wind.

I got my boots on and tromped outside, metal rake perched over my shoulder. Back then I had this idea to clear out a section of wood to build a fort in. I stayed out for hours, clearing a patch on the forest floor. It smelled absolutely heavenly: the rain soaked earth, that crisp smell the air has when it’s cold, the earthy smell of dead leaves, and the slight fragrance from some flowery vine that permeated the air as I worked. There wasn’t much in terms of animal life out - I lived in suburbia and this was literally a tiny strip of forest between my house and our neighbor. But still there were birds flitting from tree to tree, crows cawing, and I even saw a fox silently watching me as I worked before slinking away into the thicket.

I came back in the house as the humid air grew dim in the evening hour. I was soaked, sore, and happy. My mom ushered me up the stairs to go take a shower before I sat down for dinner, tsking at me for even thinking of stepping inside while still in my muddy boots.

#memories #god I wish I could go back to that day #going to get a house with a wooded back yard #so I can go out with a rake one rainy autumn day #and clear a patch of forest floor #autumn #forest #insert joke about ‘raking the forests’ here

[diningpageantry]

Unseen

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17343617/chapters/41107136

Chapter 5/11 of Of Wealth and Leisure

Word Count: 3145

Summary: A horseback ride through the countryside results in an unsettling outcome. (CW: very mild violence; described from an outside POV where the person only hears it).

“Do you always take this long to saddle a horse?” His voice reads entirely of mockery and his face is full of amusement, raking his eyes up and down my body as I toss the saddle attop my mare. Of course, he was ready minutes ago; he even prepared and packed away our lunches in the saddle bag. All that’s left for him is settling himself on the horse itself.

I shoot a mildly malicious glare over towards him, strands of curls falling into my eyes as I attempt to look at him teasingly. Ever since my arrival to the manor, I haven’t been keeping my hair as impeccably short. While at home, The Mage advises clean and short haircuts, as to avoid snagging. Therefore, it feels as though I’m involved in a mild act of rebellion by allowing the length of my hair to grow uncharacteristically longer. I can hold it in handfuls, and tug full curls around my fingers, too. It’s quite satisfactory to wipe it away from my eyes--it gives me a sense of unparalleled control. At times, I fear that Mr. Pitch will tempt a pull at it as we fight like schoolboys.

At this moment, though, our argumentative nature has simmered to a lukewarm back-and-forth. Especially here in our current situation, as we finish gathering everything necessary for a day’s ride through the country, do we only keep to a bicker.

At last, the rain has cleared. It felt endless, continuing on for days and days until September hit. Once it finally cleared, Mr. Pitch made the decision to tell me that he was finally ready to show me along the land. To my surprise, he took further initiative into the situation than I had and actually did get Cook Pritchard to pack that lunch.

I may owe this man my life if he continues to bring me food.

We settle ourselves upon our horses and I tip my hat at Ebb. She's smiling from beside the stable doors, giving us a quick wave off as we begin our journey onto a trail leading from their property.

Baz, of course, critiques my riding abilities as we go along.

“It’s a wonder you don’t lead,” he quips. “How long have you even been riding?”

I hesitate with my answer, knowing it’s a tad revealing. Most wealthy children learn at such a young age. “Five years,” I answer truthfully, eyes drawing down to the reins in my hands.

He sends me a look of curiosity, but as I don’t return his questioning gaze, he drops the subject entirely. “Why do you wish to take the trails at all? If you’re not a regular rider, I don’t see why it’s so appealing.”

“I wish to see the lands from the inside, not just the observational fields around it.” My attention lifts back to the world around me, eyes following the hanging branches and lush greenlife around me. “It’s nearly like a fairy tale. I’m shocked that you don’t explore it more often.”

He shrugs casually, a movement I cannot say I’ve ever witnessed him do. In fact, I’m the only person who seems to shrug as so within the household. I consider mocking him for doing so, but then again, it would be self-depreciative in the process.

I decide against it.

“You don’t agree?”

“It isn’t that I disagree. On the contrary, I do think that this land is quite magical, but I have my reasons to not explore it as often.” He pauses before finishing off his thought, biting in his lip and seeming to contemplate his following statement before allowing it out. “I fear what could be inside of it. The unknown, id I may.”

I laugh unexpectedly, then silence myself as quickly as I release the laughter. “You cannot possibly be fearful of the woods, Mr. Pitch. There’s only animals and insects to be afraid of; nothing else.”

He shifts in his saddle, and I watch as his hands grip tighter around the reins. “There’s plenty to fear,” he defends. “There’s always the possibility of people hiding in woods, or creatures we’re unaware of. I never underestimate what I could face.”

My head turns as I stare at him, eyes blinking slowly as it processes that he’s not making a joke, but rather sharing his actual thoughts. I would laugh again, but it’s not quite humorous anymore. It’s rather questionable, and concerning myself over what experiences he’s had that would lead to such superstition feels as though it would unpack more than I believe either of us are ready for.

The silence stretches out, and the only sound between us is the ground underneath both of our horses’ hooves. He seems to focus in on the world in front of us, shocking me into the observation of how hyper-aware he is in this environment. Overly reliant on surroundings and his senses, Mr. Pitch carries the unquestionable air of a man being hunted. At times, I nearly itch in ill-ease of his actions. Others, I find myself glancing out into the wood in silly fear that there would be something, but I only flicker my eyes aside to calm myself with the steadily expected stream of green.

His head partially trails, following the life around us and seeming fixated on something nearby. Clearly, he’s lost in his thoughts and finding something to focus on; a furthered part of his anxieties towards the forest and all that it holds.

I clear my throat, snapping him back into reality as I insert my voice to remind him that I'm here as well. “Care to tell me a bit about the land? What’s the history?”

He blinks a few times before finding his words again. Once he starts, he doesn’t quite stop, rambling endlessly about how long his family’s been there and the history behind it. He’s obviously quite prideful in the the air of his name; those who came before him, and who may be ahead of him. Although, it’s clear that he has a difficult time with the present. Perhaps there’s aspects of that that should be discussed.

I don’t push for any aspects of his life. I shouldn’t; he’s still got a barrier wall between himself and the rest of the outside world, not letting us into his fortress of a mind. I wonder if it’ll ever crumble.

After a point, we find a cliffed clearing overlooking the land around us. It sprawls out, showing a full view of where the rolling hills touch the sky and sink deep back into the ground. It’s absolutely breathtaking.

We dismount, spreading out a blanket and taking a seat with a decent distance between each other as he unpacks the food. I dig into it shamelessly, trying to time myself as I stuff the meal down into my mouth.

I feel his eyes on me, making me squirm slightly in my spot as I stare back. Trying to mock him, I raise an eyebrow much like he would. He makes it seem quite easier than it is; I raise both of mine at him instead. “Is there an issue?”

“You always eat so quickly,” he observes plainly, staring at me. “Any particular reason why you eat so quickly?”

His words make me bristle, growing defensive within seconds. It’s part of me that I’d rather keep hidden; parts that spread rumors, but never get confirmed. Where I’m from. How The Mage keeps me. “It’s easiest that way,” I shrug, looking out over the land as I take another mouthful of my sandwich. I make a mental note to thank Cook Pritchard for the extra serving. “If I eat a lot at once, I can be more productive with my time and get to my next task faster.”

He chews slowly, watching my movements as he analyzes what I’ve said.

I’m not quite expecting his reaction. “I think you’re lying.”

“Pardon me?” I stare at him, expression reading exasperated but body filled with dread. Of course I’m lying. I would rather eat the rock we’re sitting on than tell the truth about my life to my arch nemesis (although, I’m hesitant to call him such now). But, despite my best efforts, he read clearly through my efforts in disengaging the conversation beforehand.

“You and I know quite well that you don’t do anything that would be considered productive,” he says, looking bored for a moment before his face breaks into a grin, telling me that he’s simply mocking me again. I feel myself exhale.

I finish my sandwich and dust off my hands on the cloth we’re sitting upon. “Yes, well, I believe in fast eating to save time,” I say once I swallow, throwing him a look of annoyance. “Unlike some of us who eat as if they own time itself.”

“I enjoy savoring my food.” He lifts his nose snootily, scrunching his eyes and shaking his head condescendingly. “Life should be enjoyed, not rushed through. Luxury is something we can afford.”

The cloth beneath me drags a little as I turn on my hip, facing him with an elbow propping me. “Yes, well,” I begin, voice dropping to a private murmur. “While I can afford luxuries, it’s useless to me to sit around and mindlessly chew for hours. I’d much rather spend such time on other luxuries--more interesting luxuries.” I see his face flush with my words, slowing down his movements to observe my speaking. Between us, his hand drops and rests out in the open. I briefly consider taking it into my own before realizing how odd of an idea it is.

He makes a show of swallowing the rest of his meal, head facing me as his hands prop him up. “I’m allowed my equal luxuries.”

“And what are those?”

To that he laughs, face turning sour towards me. “What, are you saying that you don’t witness me doing anything of my interest within your months living in my home?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head in the slightest. “I’m stating that your so called equal luxuries are unknown. I’ve seen you read, and heard you play your violin, but I barely consider those equal luxuries to other privileges you and I hold.”

As if it were a challenge, he turns his head up as he grows a smirk. “Alright then, Snow. Fair enough. How about I exercise our luxuries and take us out to a play. I’d fancy one this Friday, in fact. We should take a carriage into town.”

My face mirrors his, a smile spreading across my cheeks as I nod. “Why just one? We should go spend a weekend in London and see various shows.”

He grows pinker as he laughs, a brilliant red complementing his soft brown skin. “I’ll take such an offer, Snow. It sounds like a luxurious enough investment of time.” We smile at each other, unsure of whether it’s genuine or an outrageously misunderstood argument turned competition. It’s easiest to go with it anyway, unquestioned as to what the intentions of it are.

I begin to consider what that weekend would entail; a hotel stay, perhaps a shared room. Dinners together. Intimate, city outings. It would be a lie to say that it isn’t absolutely appealing...

With that turn of conversation, though, we wordlessly agree to stand and pack up our picnic. After it’s set away, Mr. Pitch turns to me and exhales. “If you don’t mind me, I’m going to take a quick stop in the woods to take care of business. Will you watch the horses?”

“Of course,” I say mindlessly, still somewhat enthralled with the overlooking view to care to look at him. “Should it only be a second?”

“Yes, yes. It’ll be a snap.”

I hear the crunching of the ground behind me; twigs snapping and leaves rustling, and it grows further with time. It takes an unexpected extra few seconds before I hear startling noises; further rustling of leaves, muffled shouts, and the kicking of underbush. In a rush, I glance to my horse and grab the sword I’d brought (Mr. Pitch had mocked me earlier for my decision to bring it, it’s clear it was the right choice) before charging into the unmarked path within the trees.

The shouts grow louder before I hear a yelp of clear “Help!” in Mr. Pitch’s voice. It draws me in, rushing inwards and slicing anything that gets in my way. When I find him, he’s laying panting and injured on the ground. He hisses in pain, gripping his leg as rustling of the trees quickly sounds as if it’s further and further.

Dropping to my knees, my hands search his body to find injury, which doesn’t seem to be anywhere but his leg (except for his roughed-up shirt and trousers). “Good God, man, what happened?!”

“What do you think happened?!” He snaps before groaning in agonizing pain. “I-I was attacked; I didn’t see who, but he came from behind a-and…” His eyes dart around in a panic, leg still in his grip. While I’m the furthest thing from a doctor, it’s clear that the injury lays deeper than skin.

I shakily stand him up, having him lean entirely on me as my eyes dart around. “Should I look for him?”

“No, dear God, no,” he cries, arms wrapped around me tightly. “Don’t be a tit--get me home, damn you.”

We’re stumbling and completely uncoordinated, but I manage my way through the woods and back to the horses, who seem a bit spooked but still present. I hoist him up onto my horse and climb on in front of him, which leads to him wrapping his arms around my waist without being provoked to. While I’d hate to admit this given our particular situation, but it makes my skin prickle at the sensation of being held.

I snap for the horse to break into a gallop, and luckily Mr. Pitch’s mare has been well trained enough to follow as we rush back down the path towards the Grimm-Pitch residence. It’s somewhat bumpy, and with each hit to the ground, I hear a groan emerge from Mr. Pitch’s throat as he clings to me tighter. This isn’t quite the intimacy of our situation that I’d envisioned, but it’s somewhat acceptable from me.

Bursting into the clearing, workers startle and stare as I push onwards towards the stables and house. Shocked servants start spilling out, trying to get an eyeful of the scene. It doesn’t do much justice to us, though, as we need more than rubberneckers to help. As we pull in, Ebb leaps urgently and drags Mr. Pitch off, finding a seat to settle him onto as she elevates his foot. The flooding consists of everyone--the family, the servants regardless of closeness to him, and even some workers fill into the stables to see what had happened to him.

Immediately, it turns into an investigation. Mr. Grimm hovers over me and glares at me all accusatory as I'm stepping away. He begins closing in, forcing me to back up shakily and spread my arms in case I tumble. My vision blurs, adrenaline overloading me and hitting at such an inopportune time.  “What have you--”

“He didn’t do it!” Mr. Pitch breaks in, hissing in pain as his leg gets wrapped. “It wasn’t him, he rescued me. Leave Sir Snow alone.”

I pant, staring upwards at Mr. Grimm as he recoils and stares down upon me before flicking his head towards his son. “Then what in the world happened?”

“Attacked-someone followed us.” His fists clench, exhaling through his nose as his jaw sets while he's breathing out something unheard. “It wasn’t him, father,” he continues audibly, “leave it.”

So he does, leaving me trembling in my spot as countless people fuss over Mr. Pitch and his wounds. In the process, we exchange unsteady glances, to which he doesn’t seem malicious or disgusted, but rather seeking pity and comfort from me as he’s cared over. Someone asks which doctor they should call, pressing ice to his wound as I clear my throat.

“Send a telegram for Doctor Wellbelove. He’s a friend of mine; he’ll treat Mr. Pitch well. Just mention that Sir Snow is sending for him.” That deserves me a thankful exhale from him, face dropping and head rolling down as he flinches in pain and focuses on his somewhat ragged breaths. Eventually, I take a chance to go kneel beside him and look over his injuries as my mind runs through our conversations.

The woods. The way he looked so dazed and unsettled while he looked out among it. As my mind traces back, I can’t help but ponder whether or not there was something he could sense that I couldn’t. If my obliviousness was too heavy; if I should have been more alert the entire trip.

Furthermore, it raises more possibilities, and darker ones at that. Is there a spy attempting to assassinate Mr. Pitch? Was this a failed mission for his throat? And, if so, is it someone on the grounds?

My mind flicks through possibilities, working itself up further before suddenly going static at the touch of Mr. Pitch’s hand against mine. I startle, then raise my head to meet his gaze. When I meet his, he’s staring at me with mild concern as he exhales. “Thank you,” he says, just quiet enough that it’s only me hearing him. At first, I believe I’m mistaken, but the hand still pressed to mine is telling me elsewise.

In a simple returned nod, I smile sadly and chew on my bottom lip. “I am a hero, after all,” I mumble in efforts to defuse the situation, and much to my surprise, it works.

“Always the hero.” He looks down, clearly still in pain but trying desperately to hold it back. “I apologize for this; I suppose it means our leisurely break will have to be postponed to a more convenient time.”

“Suppose I can always go without you.”

“You will not,” he remarks, “and, not to mention, that the theatre will be quite bland without me.” Somehow, despite the urgency and desperation of the situation minutes ago, I smile at him and exhale out somewhat of a chuckle.

“I doubt it will be,” I tease, still grinning from ear to ear as he smiles back.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Ebb at the edge of the stables, by her house. I can’t quite read what her expression is, feeling overwhelmed and chaotic from the moment at hand. The situation was absolutely unexpected; from a pleasant exchange one minute, to so utterly terrible and barely understood the next.

I can’t help but wonder if she’s disappointed in me for leaving him alone. After what he said on the trip there, I can’t quite believe that I had either.

#carry on #fanfiction #snowbaz #fanfic #fic #mine #of wealth and leisure #victorian au #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #baz pitch #simon #baz #hehe the story picks up from here babes

[dsmroleplay]

#KillingChimera #DSM #SPN #RP Part 2

Written by @TridentHunting & @ForgotAboutAdam

Adam: Today was becoming the day of plane train and automobiles, okay we haven't exactly been on a train yet but this journey was certainly something different than I was used too. So far the journey has been interesting since leaving Austin. This journey had gone down to the river wasn't the normal hustle and bustle of being back home with everyone in a hurry. I help the team to unload the canoes with the bags with all the equipment we needed for the next part. When I looked over to my father taking some photos of the surrounding area. He wonders if his father took ever a minute for himself.

He grins with the solider #sandlers. When I striped on the body vest and protection with a helmet too. he gave me to get to ready. As a thought, this part of the get to the jungle could be plain sailing or we might have some jungle boys tracking us with the load we were going to be carrying. Maybe this part would be slightly tricky. #Sandler had taken out his map of the area. Placing it on the ground wondering what the best way to get to our assembly point. At working out the best route would be we

Spilled in teams of three in each canoe. Two members were rowing and the other would be the lookout with sniper gun. Been prepared for anything to come out at us. I walked over to get my father tapping him on his shoulder. Dad, we are ready to go if you are? He nodded walking back over to meet the team in the canoes. John took his seat in his before making my own way to my located one. Adam sat down picking up my paddle. To begin the adventure down the river. ::::::::::::::::::::: John: -Adam touch brought him back into focus on the mission, not that he didn't have his mind on it but the beauty of the Amazon had kinda called to him. Putting his camera away he picked up a sniper rifle and opened an ammo can putting a round into the chamber and slide the bullet into the chamber. Checking the scope as they paddled out into deeper water, lights in the distance here and there in the forest. He kept tuned as he took out a can of Copenhagen chewing tobacco and put a pinch between his cheek and gums. Slipping it back into his jacket pocket he put on a coms device. Speaking quietly he asked status on the other boots as they moved on down the river. A smell glowstick was activated and tossed into the bottom of the canoe so the guys could see enough if something happened but it not giving off enough light to paint a good target on any of them. The boat was thumped lightly on the right side one of the guys chuckles.- "Anaconda" -He whispered to John and Adam. That was enough to give John the chills, he hated snakes as it was but man-sized ones who could swallow people whole unnerved him but he didn't voice that. He had a reputation to keep up as the "Patriarch" of the family.  

As time went by they moved upriver without a hitch and glided into the old wooden docks of Leticia. An old man with gray hair stood holding a vintage glass lantern. "Ah... you made it, I had almost given up the mosquitos have taken all the blood I was willing to give tonight. Here, "offered them a spray can of repellent" use it my friends. Getting sick here is not wise, regardless of what the church says of those witch doctors from far off places. He obviously didn't appreciate modern medicine but John got out of the canoe and took the can thanking him.- "Much obliged, names John" -He held out his hand to the old man with sincerity as they shook hands.- "I was told we've have a truck to load our supplies in." -The old man measured John up and didn't immediately hate him so he gave John a toothy smile.- "Not truck my friend, but next best thing." -Gestures to several bicycles with small trailers attached, each had a young man perched atop the seat waving and smiling.

John chuckled and waved back.- "Okay guys you heard the man let's get the gear into the carts." -As John tossed the can of repellent to Adam he pulled out his wallet and offered the man a sizeable monetary offer to say thank you for waiting even if they'd arrived late. The old man graciously took the currency and waved them on. He went to give the bicycle drivers each their cut as John, Adam and the rest of the men loaded the cart's.- :::::::::::::::: Adam: Adam got out of the canoe after his father. he steps back to let his father take his normal role of leading the leading when he walked over to meet an older man standing there. adam thought to himself this must be the guy that john has connections with here in the amazon. adam looked away and started to help the other lads to unload the canoes with all the gear and weapons than needed for this mission that stood in front of them. the bags were placed by the nearby trees while john was talking to the old man. adam tried to not listen to every word that was getting said between john and the old man. with all the canoes all emptied. #Tony and Adam begin to start lifting the boats onto the land. as they would be needed this canoe for the return leg back. Tony and I had a conversation on where would be the best place to hide the canoes. is top doing what I was doing to slap myself from the buzzing mosquitoes? when John sends out the next set of instructions for us using bikes with carts. at first, I thought this was a joke with all the team grinning at the boss at first, but soon everyone knew with john tone this was happening. everyone just got on with it picking up the bags.  adam bend down to pick up the paddles from the canoes when he saw an object being throw at him by john.

He caught the can. he looks down to see what it was repellent. "thanks" he stops instantly to use the spray since the mosquitoes were having a buffet on me. after using the spray on himself before he passes the can around the team. with the gear already loaded, myself and tony finished putting the canoes hidden away from the naked eyes. deep into the Amazon forest. covering them with some branches from the trees to disguise them. before making their way back to join the rest of the team to get onto these bicycles." well you can say something about this journey this quite different as I bet you didn't expect to be through this forest on bicycles." he chuckled to himself. :::::::::::::::::::::: John: -John was stiff and sore by the time they'd got this caravan going and was thankful once they arrived at the hotel although he knew the accommodations weren't going to be anything to brag about. It took another two hours but they finally got everything into the rooms and were able to grab some food even at the late hour. Not long after eating dinner he told the guys to hit the rake and get some sleep because tomorrow would be another long day. They'd have to leave Leticia and go further up river. He needed them rested and ready to go.- ::::::::::::::::: Adam: Adam cracks his neck a few times. When they reached his hotel room. When all the team had split into the allocated quarters. The first thing that was on Adam's mind was a hot shower. To clean himself from all the creeper crawlers he had on him. One of the peers from being in the rain forest. He knew this was going to be a shitty trip with all the mud and inserts but he has still had a new surprise during the trip. After he had his hot shower he felt like a human again. Before hugging the hay after his father and leader told them all to get a few hours. He knows he needed some shut-eye. Knowing his father he would want an early start in the morning. The next morning. Around 4 am Adam dragged his ass out of bed. Heading straight into the restroom to do his business.

Grabbing another hot shower as he didn't know when he would have that luxury again. Finally dressed after ten minutes. He packed his bag and locked up his room. Making his way understands to the lobby to see if any of the team was downstairs. He hands him his room key to the reception area. When he heard his name being called out by his father to come and grab some food. He made his way over to grab a plate and filling it up with all the chow available. Taking a seat across from John. Who was getting himself ready for the day ahead finishing off his coffee? When John said everyone ten minutes be ready and loaded to get moving. Adam quicker finished his breakfast and made his way outside to start the day ahead. He knew The river was involved again. Hopefully, this part of the journey would be a little easier with having a real boat?

#DSM SPN RP