#(I almost saw Jesus at The Mummy ride)

[kaymarie-bell]

I'm visiting some relatives and I was able to take Epel and Ortho to Magic Kingdom last week

I spent the whole day like "everything reminds me of him (twst) 💔"

[arminhug]

hello, pumpkin || annie leonhardt x reader: chapter two

series masterlist

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

BIRTHDAY GIRL

Annie and I never established that we were friends until her eighth birthday.

In the blossoming spring warmth, I nestled myself in the corner of the bench in the playground’s garden. It was an unspoken fact that nobody really played in the garden; it was a quiet haven for a few of us to read or enjoy solitude, yet it had also become a spot where I waited for Annie every day, and almost every day, had she not been sent home or busy with other obligations, Annie joined me, sometimes speaking, sometimes not. I didn’t mind; I just loved to be in her company.

On this particular day, Annie stood before me, and despite her being the same height as me, her air always made her seem much bigger and powerful.

“My dad says this is for you.”

She handed me a white envelope into which I fervently tore, revealing a gaudy invitation card.

“It’s your birthday on Saturday?” I quizzed.

“No, my birthday is today. But my dad said it was too short notice to invite you to my house today, so you can come on Saturday.”

At this news of Annie’s birthday, I immediately leapt to my feet and braced her in a hug. “Happy birthday! What cake are you having? Are you going to hand out sweets to your class?”

Annie did not hug me back but did not resist. “I don’t like cake, and I don’t like anyone in my class.”

I gasped. “How can you not like cake? Also, who’s going to be at your party if you don’t like anyone in your class?”

“Cake is too heavy and sweet.” She responded monotonously. “Also, you’re the only one coming; it’s not a party, my dad just knows I have a friend now and wanted you to come. You don’t have to.”

Unlike Annie, I didn’t actively avoid the other children in my school. I was still invited to many class birthday parties, I spoke amiably to my peers and I could name a few schoolchildren whom I could consider a friend— yet Annie, the stoic, ash-blonde girl confessing she saw me as a friend elicit such joy within me, I can still remember the feeling to this day if I think about her enough.

“So if I’m your friend, I have to get you a present, right?” I had reminded her of the title that she gave me moments ago.

“No. I don’t want a present.”

“Yes you do, everyone wants presents!” I retorted. “What do you like best in the world?”

“Cats.”

I sat down, sulking. “I can’t get you a cat, Annie. What else do you like?”

Silence.

“Mummy and I can make you something.” I continued, desperate to find something that I could give to my friend. “She’s really good at baking. Do you like cookies?”

“No.”

“Cupcakes?” I refused to give up.

“No! Cupcakes are tiny cakes, you know I hate cakes.”

“Brownies?”

“No.”

“Doughnuts?”

This time, Annie turned away, not meeting the question with a monosyllabic “no”.

“Doughnuts! Annie, I’ll make you lots of doughnuts, okay?”

Annie still refused to look me in the eye. It never bothered me, but I had gathered that she was more inclined to refuse eye contact when she was upset or shy. Before I had the chance to attempt to pry into which flavour of doughnut she would have liked, the bell signalling the end of recess rang. I leapt to my feet and pressed a chaste kiss to Annie's cheek.

“See you later, you doughnut!”

She shoved me towards my line with no malice in the action. “Whatever you say, pumpkin girl.”

“Earth to (y/n)? You’ve been glazed over for the past five minutes. What’s so exciting about the window?”

I blink, snapping out of the saccharine memory of Annie’s birthday. Four pairs of eyes are fixed on me, and I animate myself, taking the doughnut from my plate and shrugging. “I was just thinking,” I respond.

“You sure? Not looking at any hot dudes?” the only other female at the table, Sasha, suggests. Her hazel eyes flicker suggestively over to the group of men kicking a ball about in the park over the road from our favourite local café, which has baked goods to die for (or so Sasha and Connie, the food fanatics of my friendship group claim. I won’t argue—the doughnuts are heavenly.)

“Yeah, c’mon, (y/n)! There are three dashing fellows right here, why do you need to stare at those losers?” Connie chimes in, gesturing to himself and my other two male friends, Jean and Marco.

“Yeah, you wish. My type isn’t idiots,” I playfully smack Connie’s head, the growing stubble brushing my fingertips as I find any way to bring the subjects away from men that I would apparently find attractive.

“On all seriousness, what is your type? We’ve never seen you have anyone about.” Jean interrogates. Great.

It took me a while to figure out that I’m likely not into men. I never quite knew why I got so uncomfortable when middle school brought an array of boy bands that prepubescent teenage girls loved to swoon over, and why I could never answer when somebody asked me who was the hottest, but at the age of sixteen, when I realised my heart was racing upon seeing two women kiss in a film my friends and I had watched, it hit me like a freight train that I was definitely attracted to women.

I chose not to indulge anyone in this knowledge; realistically, I know I don’t have too much to worry about. Sure, my parents aren’t screaming about supporting gay rights from the rooftops, but I know that they have no prejudice towards the community, and my four closest friends would accept me no matter what — hell, Marco told us he was gay when we were fifteen and sixteen years old over a game of Mario Kart and we embraced his queerness with open arms.

So what’s the big deal? I think to myself.

“Does it matter? I’m too busy to date. These university decisions are killing me!”

“Simple,” Jean interrupts, pointing the straw of his ridiculously large iced coffee in my direction. “You come to Marley with Marco and me. Good university, far enough away from your parents, and you get your favourite friends with you for the ride!”

Jean and Marco are one class above Sasha, Connie and I, and decided that Marley University, a small, public school that gained a decent reputation despite it being so new, was the place for them. It was hard to say goodbye once they left school, but the holiday breaks came frequently, and soon enough, they were back for Easter, helping their three younger friends decide on which school to go to.

“Tempting, but probably not. I can’t get over the English department in Sina,” I responded dreamily.

“Yeah, and the crazy entry requirements. You’d have to be a robot to get those grades! Just come to Marley with us, I’m sure the English stuff is fine there, too!” Sasha whined, poking at my hand. I take another bite of my nostalgic treat, shaking my head.

“Guys, I love you all, but I can’t make such an important decision based on my friends. You understand, right?”

“It’s fine, (y/n),” Marco interrupts, his familiar comforting smile gracing his freckled face. “We’ll come to visit you up there, right?”

“Nope. Four of us, one of you. She is coming to Marley.” Jean retorts.

“Jesus, fair enough. I’ll book the plane tickets now!” I tell him sardonically. He elbows me jovially in response and stands, coffee in hand. “Right, we can finish our drinks and snacks on the way outside. It's too nice to be spending it indoors.”

Ignoring the protests from Sasha and Connie, who forlornly protest that they haven't had the chance to order a baked good after their main courses, the majority of the group tail towards the double doors, leaving the duo no choice but to begrudgingly follow suit. The late March sunshine is glorious, beaming down on my face, much like the day twelve years ago I was daydreaming about. It suddenly hit me that today, March 22nd, Annie would be turning twenty years old. This newfound knowledge makes my stomach drop and I cannot control the grief coursing through my being.

It's ever so odd how I can remember every detail about my childhood friend; every memory we shared together, her favourite colour, (black, which I insisted was rather morbid for an eight-year-old, so I coaxed her into putting blue as a second favourite) how on Sunday mornings her father would always pick her up from my house after a sleepover at 10 am sharp to take her to karate, even though she had told me in confidence that she much preferred kickboxing. I couldn't tell you many facts about any other childhood friend who I lost to time; it's only Annie. Every detail of the girl who made my infancy etched into my heart, refusing to leave.

As I force myself back into the present moment, I am aware that maybe Annie was more than just my best friend.

But I was so young. How could I have truly differentiated between innocuous childhood affection and romantic yearning?

“Marco?” I punctuate the spring silence before I can even stop myself. “How did you realise your first crush?”

Marco raises his eyebrows. “Jeez, it was so long ago. I was eleven and I was having a sleepover with my friend. We were on his bed playing Minecraft on his laptop, but I wasn’t even paying attention; I was just admiring his face, how he was so engrossed in the game. My heart was racing because I realised I wanted to kiss him, but I didn’t even think it was biologically possible to like the same sex, so I brushed it off. Now I look back…” he laughs awkwardly, before looking me in the eye, his tone suddenly earnest. “Why, what’s up? Anything you want to talk to me about?”

I stop in the street, completely oblivious to the speed of modern day life around me. Suddenly all I care about is how my stomach leapt when I saw her pallid figure walk through the double doors, into the garden, how I found any excuse to hold her hand, how obsessed I was with the topography of her curved nose, icy eyes, lips stark against her pale skin.

“How do you know for sure you’re gay if you’ve only ever had a crush on one person in your life? Somebody who you haven’t spoken to in eight years?”

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[ssatoritendou]

Baby It’s Cold Outside

iwaizumi hajime 

Pairing: iwaizumi/reader

Word count: 3.8k 

+ summary: Oikawa plans a wonderful holiday weekend for you all the horrible part is your enemy and former crush Iwaizumi is going. He is awfully rude to you but is acting like your best friend so not to anger Tooru. Could this weekend get any worse? 

Genre: enemies to lovers; fluff 

Damn Oikawa Tooru. Damn the entire Oikawa family at this point if someone can make a person like him possible. His brilliant idea to get together and stay in the cabin. You had all been at different universities. Well, almost all of you. You and Iwaizumi attend the same uni. One would think after attending Aoba Johsai together and ending up in the same uni you would still be friends. But no. In fact, just after graduation, he cut you off. He said to you in a text message after you innocently said can’t wait to make more memories with you for the next four years, ‘I was only friends with you for Oikawa. You were his friend that just tagged along. I think it would be best if you and I didn’t interact at uni.’ A little difficult if you are both freshmen and take a majority of the same courses since you were both under the same major. But here’s the icing on the top: he acting like your best friend on this trip. And Tooru is making you share a room. Here is all how it started. There was knocking on your dorm door at 6 in the morning on a Saturday. “What?!” “Jesus I take it you're not a morning person.” Iwaizumi said standing in your hallway like he has been up for hours. “I’m assuming you got Shittykawa’s text last night?” “Yeah what do you not want me to go?” He rolled his eyes at this. “No Oikawa asked me to make sure we took the same train together since we go to the same uni.” “Well if he asked then fine. Can you go now? You messed up with my morning routine.”

That was a week ago. You had just finished exams. Now you get to relax on a long vacation with your friends and Iwaizumi Hajime. When you arrived at the cabin you were greeted by Mattsun, Makki, and for lack of better terms Shittykawa. “Iwa! N/n! Finally, you are here. I hope Iwa is taking care of my little N/n.” “Baka! Of course, I am.” Iwaizumi said in a huff. “Can we go inside now? It’s freezing out here.” He was lying to Tooru. His best friend since diapers. Straight lied. You hadn’t talked to him since graduation. “This way my good friends,” Oikawa said, leading the group forward on the lightly snowed path. You were picking up your bag when Mattsun picked it up. “I carry it myself, Issei.” You said laughing. “Nonsense why would I let you the clumsiest person I know carry her bags in the snow.” He said. You started to get cocky and walked backward. “Please it’s not even snow-” You ended up slipping on the ice cover by the snow. “I see your point.” “Just hold on to my arm.” He said trying to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. “Always a gentleman Mattsun.” You were trailing behind the others further away from Tooru. See Mattsun knew what Iwaizumi said to you and how he blatantly ignores you. “I have a question, are you guys friends?” “No. Not even close. I have no clue why he lied to him. Makes me think that if Tooru asks about me does he lie about that too. Just last week when we were invited Tooru asked him to take the same train as me. But he was still completely rude.” “I have no clue what his problem is. I didn’t know he had so much disdain towards you. He was always so nice to you in school.”   You shook your head at this comment What could you have done to offend Iwaizumi Hajime so much?

“Shittykawa how could you not know there were only 3 bedrooms!” Iwaizumi shouted at him. “I’m sorry Iwa but look at this place it was nice and big for an affordable price for all of us.” Oikawa shuddered under the angry gaze of the former wing-spiked. “It’s fine, it's not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before,” Makki said. “Or seen each other naked.” “No one here has seen N/n naked or slept in the same bed as her,” Oikawa said. “Yes and I attend to keep it that way. So I think that settles and I get my own room.” “Hell No!” Iwaizumi, Makki, and Mattsun yelled. “I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t share a bed or room with Oikawa Tooru again,” Makki said. “He either sleeps like a mummy with headphones and a face mask in the middle of the bed.” Iwaizumi said. “Or he stays up all night watching stuff on his laptop,” Mattsun said. “Fine, then I’ll stay with Mattsun.” You said. To this statement, Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Fine with me.” Mattsun put his arm on your shoulder with a smile. You picked his hand off your shoulder. “You sir are sleeping at the foot of the bed.” “I’m just messing. I’ll bring our bags to a room.” Mattsun picked up the bags and walked down the hallway. Iwaizumi and Makki did the same. “You knew it had 3 bedrooms, didn’t you? To get a room all to yourself?” “N/n I would never!” He laughed.

You wanted to shower after a long train ride and as you went to open the door to your room. Makki opened the door. “Y/n I wouldn’t go in there. Mattsun is sick and I know how much of a germaphobe you are. And I shared a drink with him earlier. So you have to share a room with Iwaizumi.” You flinched away from Makki and the room in general. A nightmare. Nightmare. “Ok. Tell Mattsun I hope he feels better and I hope you also don’t get sick as well.” “Thank you,” Makki said. You walked down the hall and knocked on the door. “What do you want?” “Mattsun is sick and Makki drank from his water today.” “Oh, right you are a germaphobe. So we are sharing rooms. Just great.” “Yeah yeah. Can I take a shower? I need to get the train germs off me and Mattsun's germs. Like right now.” You said in a haste to hope into a scalding shower to get this gross feeling off of you. It started to itch in the back of the brain. “Yeah, I guess.” He moved out of the way. “Where are your bags?” “I think Issei still has them. I’ll just go and get them.” “No. I’ll get them. Just go take a shower.” He said in a huff.

“Jesus Christ, what happened to your arms?” Iwaizumi asked. “I cleaned myself.” “I’m just going to go shower you can get dressed.” He walked into the bathroom. “Y/n is barely any soap left.” “Sorry.” You quickly got dressed in your pajamas and took whatever extra pillows you could find and made a wall in the middle of the bed. You laid down leaving the desk lamp on for Iwaizumi. “What’s that?” Iwaizumi asked while pointing at the pillow brigade. “Something to keep us apart and respect each other's boundaries.” “Huh. Typical.” “And what does that mean?” “Oh, nothing I just know you wouldn’t do this for your precious Issei.” “Actually no because he is nice to me and isn’t fake nice to me just to make Tooru feel better.” “You want to break his heart?” “What does that mean?” “Uh nevermind. Good night.” He yanked the chain on the desk lamp off.

“So what are we going to do today?” Mattsun asked with a mask on. “Why don’t you take that stupid mask off for starters. You too Makki.” Iwaizumi said to them. “We are both sick and we are respecting Y/n’s boundaries.” “There is a great town nearby with cute little shops. There is a small ski and park.” Oikawa said with a cheery tone. “Let’s shop first for an hour then go to that park,” Makki suggested. “Cool with me. Let’s go.” You got to the little town and it was a little kitschy but overall it was cute. You got an idea when you saw a drug store to call Sakusa. He knew all the good ways to prevent colds and any illness. “L/n what is the reason you are calling me or is it because you found another sanitizer that works well.” “No no. I was wondering if you have any recommendations for cold medicine. One of my friends that I’m traveling with is sick and I wanted to get him the best medication.” “Mmm. Symptoms?” “Congestion, wet cough, runny nose.” “Stick with the basics Mucinex and even a neti pot. It will flush out everything.” “Who the fuck are you on the phone with?” Iwaizumi said out of nowhere starling you. You put up your hand annoyed. “Thank you again Sakusa. Sorry to bother you on holiday.” “No trouble. Have a nice trip with your friends.” You smiled and hung up. “Why were you talking to Sakusa Kiyoomi?” He said with a snarl. “I was asking him about cold medicine for Issei and Makki. Why did you follow me?” “I didn't. Oikawa told me to find you after you peeled away from the group. Why do you have his number?” “That’s really none of your business. You aren’t my friend, remember.” You said you open the door to the drug store. And of course, he followed you inside. You picked out the things you need for your friends. “Why do you call Mattsun and Oikawa by their first names?” “Because they asked me too. Why are you so curious? Are you jealous, Hajime?” You emphasized his first name which you have never said to him in the time you have known him. “Don’t call me that.” “Why does it bother you Hajime?” “Yes.” “Fine then I won’t.” You pecked his cheek and left the store smiling, leaving him speechless.

After a full afternoon of shopping, you became tired and started to get a headache. “Guys I think I’m getting sick I think I’m just going back to the house. You guys can go ahead without me.” “Ahh. My poor little N/n I’m sorry.” “If you are going to go back maybe I should walk you back,” Mattsun said. “Issei you don’t have to. Just stay here and have fun in the snow.” You smiled. “Iwa said he didn’t even want to go.” You cringed at the idea of spending the rest of the day with him alone. “I actually changed my mind Shittykawa.” “It’s fine guys I can walk back by myself.” To this Mattsun and Makki laughed. “Just enjoy the afternoon. I'm probably just going to sleep anyways.” “Ok be careful though N/n!”

“Why did you tell Y/n to be careful?” Iwaizumi asked Mattsun. “Why do you care?” Mattsun scoffed back on the ski lift. “Huh?” “One would think the great Hajime Iwaizumi would notice how clumsy she is. Like really clumsy. Slipping off the couch clumsy while just sitting there. Why do you act like such a dick to her? Huh? Then proceed to lie to Oikawa that she is fine. You don’t know a thing about her.” “She told you.” “I was there when you sent that text. She was hurt really bad. She didn’t know what she did wrong. And the worse part is I couldn’t tell her to put her mind at ease. Because you know why? Because she was very kind and respectful towards you. For three years. She cried. And she is going to hate me for saying this but she really liked you. She didn’t say anything afraid of how Oikawa would react. You put up a front for three years acting so kind towards her and took care sometimes too, I thought you liked her back. But you did that to her and broke her heart. For what?” Iwaizumi was shocked at Mattsun's sudden outburst. He was always a man of few words and relied more on actions. “Forget it.” He said in a huff and got off the lift to ski. While Iwaizumi sat there confused. You liked him. For the longest time, he thought you liked Oikawa or Mattsun based on how you treated them. He sat back and thought about how you acted around him in your high school years. You were always cautious around him but ask how he was doing and if he needed help with anything. Most of the time it was English and you were really good at it. But you stayed a comfortable distance away from him but never looked at him in his eyes when talking to him. He picked up on that around your second year. You would always look at the tip of his nose or at his brow line. He also picked up how close you were with Mattsun. He would always touch you. Hug you from behind, pull your places, give you head pats, pick you up, etc,. He thought maybe he liked you too and he couldn’t make a move if one of his friends like you. He made the decision to distance from you in college hoping his feelings would die without seeing you. But if you liked him this whole time… Shit he messed up big time. You hate him and worse of all he was resentful that his feelings for you were reciprocated and was horribly mean to you. The lift came back to its station. “Hey, dude are you gonna get off?” Iwaizumi snapped out of his trance and quickly hopped off to find you. In hopes of salvaging what had happened between you two.

Mattsun and Makki were right to laugh at you for not making it home safely. You were making your way up the trail just outside of the house and you slipped once again on black ice hurting your ankle really badly. There was no one around and the cell service was bad. You were stuck there until the boys came back to one laugh at you, two then for Oikawa to scold you for not being careful and three for them to actually help you. You laid down in the frigid cold air and the cold wet snow with the slight cold approaching teeth chattering. You heard crunches in the snow hoping it wasn’t wildlife to snack on your body. You quickly lifted your head to see Iwaizumi there. “Iwaizumi I thought you were skiing?” “I got bored. What happened?” He asked concerned. “Promise not to laugh?” He nodded. “I slipped on black ice and I think I sprained my ankle when I tried to get up and stand on it, it really hurt. I don’t think I heard a crack so that’s a plus. Can you help me up?” He leaned down and picked you up bridal style. You thought he would just give you his arm or let you use him as a crunch as you hobbled your way back to the house. You couldn’t help to look at him. He seemed different. “How long were you there?” He asked. “I think for an hour.” You chattered your teeth at the end of the statement. “Are you cold?” “Very much.” And with that comment, he brought you closer to his body. Sure it was a nice gesture and warm and made you involuntarily melt into him but he was acting weird. He was being nice to you. When you finally got to the house he placed you on the couch making sure pillows were supporting your back and elevated your foot. He carefully untied the book and slid it off. You wince when you saw it bruised and swollen. “Yeah, it looks sprained to me. You might need to get it x-rayed to make sure. But you should stay off it for the remainder of the trip. I’m gonna make a fire to warm you up. Then I’ll get you your pajamas and warm socks. And I’ll make you hot chocolate with cinnamon your favorite.” “Are you sick Iwaizumi?” You said putting your hand to his head to check for a fever. “No.” He swatted your hand away. “I’m not totally heartless.” “Are you taking care of me because of pity? Because if you are I’m just going to go to bed and sleep it off. Because I don’t neee-” you stretched out the e’s in need when you were getting off the couch. “Jeez, I’m just trying to take care of you. What is the harm in that?” “Because you hate me. You shouldn’t be doing this. You are only nice to me in front of Tooru and now you are acting as if he is here watching us.” “I’m not acting.” “Then what changed your tune. Because I thought you saw me as a nuisance at least that is what you said to me. So tell me what it is that is making you act like I’m in the Bizzaro?” “Mattsun told me you like me!” You were frozen. More so than you already were. You did like him when you were in high school, maybe you still did. Maybe you were still hung up on the fact that he was so kind to you and you laughed together that it led to that hurtful text you received. “Are you going to say anything?” “Are you doing this out of pity because I liked you?” “No, no. See the thing is….” God how was he going to tell you that he likes you too. And he thought pushing you away was the best decision for him. “I-I like you as well.” “Then why do you act like a prick?!” “I like you a lot and I thought for the longest time you liked Mattsun and he liked you. I wasn’t going to do anything and hurt him. I thought we would go to different colleges and only see each other when Oikawa did things like this. But then we were going to go to the same college and I couldn’t deal with being around you if you didn’t have the same feelings. So I pushed you away. I didn’t know what I said hurt you so bad until today when Mattsun told me. And for that I’m sorry. My intention was never to hurt you just push you away.” You leaned over to him and kissed his cheek. “You are an idiot. You need to make it up to me big time. You said some hurtful words to me.”   “You can forgive me? After what I did-” This time you pecked him on the lips to shut him up. “Yes, idiot I forgive you.” He pulled you in for a hug and you heard his heart beating really fast. “Are you ok?” “Better than ok.” He leaned down to kiss you but was met with a glove to the face. “Get off her Iwa!” Oikawa shouted from the doorway. “Shittykawa what the fuck!” “Tooru it is fine.” You said. “No! No! I made him promise me not to make out in front of me with you. It is like watching my siblings kiss. Gross. Vulgar.” “It is not gross, Shittykawa!!” You said to him. “N/n don’t call me that,” Tooru said, sounding like a wounded puppy. Iwaizumi got up from the couch and kissed the top of your head. “I’m gonna get your pajamas you lay here and don’t move.” He whispered. On his way out he hit Oikawa in the back of the head. “Leave her alone Shittykawa. You gave me your blessing about 3 years ago so shut up.”   Makki and Mattsun walked into the living area and saw your ankle. “Couldn’t be careful once?” “See you try not to slip on black ice. And I don’t have years of volleyball muscle in my legs.” “Clumsy as ever. Let’s hope that heart of yours doesn’t slip and get shattered.” Mattsun said. “Because if he does hurt you I’ll hit him till he breaks.” With a haunting smile saying Oikawa’s catchphrase.

Iwaizumi came back with sweatpants and took you to the bathroom to help you put them on. He then put you back on the couch where the boys were watching a movie, chosen by Oikawa. (He chose Titanic; he was crying the whole time.) Iwaizumi proceeded to make your hot chocolate which led him to make some for everyone and a fire. You started drifting to sleep and he picked you up from the couch and brought you to bed and tucked you in. He must have taken down the pillows in the middle because when he came into bed his arms were around you. You felt safe in his arms. He kissed your cheek again and said, “You can call me Hajime but never Iwa.” To this, you smirked and replied, “Goodnight Hajime.”

[hekate1308]

Owe No One Anything, Chapter Eight

Chapter Seven

Even knowing that Aziraphale and he shared a long history, Crowley was somewhat taken aback by the clarity of the angel’s memories. Not because he had feared that they would be gone – although he had – but because there were some he had had no idea of.

He shuddered when he realized where he’d landed in his attempt to find the angel. 1348. There was a reason he’d told Hastur once he would have loved the fourteenth century.

They’d been dropping like flies from the Plague, and there’d been nothing he could do to make it better. So he’d performed small miracles, like tempting a rich man to be able to boast to his friends that he was a benefactor of mankind in order to make him give bread to a poor, sick family and passing them as successes to his bosses downstairs.

He didn’t think he and Aziraphale had met during the plague years, so he was about to turn away since he needed to find him in here somewhere, when he suddenly saw himself enter a house and the angel noticing from across the street.

Of course Aziraphale had been in the middle of it, too; he’d probably healed people even though Heaven wouldn’t have wanted that.

But why…

He saw Aziraphale follow him quietly, apparently intent on finding out what he was doing; and Crowley, temporarily forgetting why he was there, moved automatically to see what happened, mostly because he was confused why Aziraphale hadn’t let him know he’d come across him.

His stomach clenched when he recognized the house. He remembered that.

A family of five, all dead but for a little girl, who’d be the last one to go at sunset.

He knew that because he’d stayed until then, unable to let her face death alone.

He watched Azriphale watch himself through the window. He didn’t need to listen to remember.

“Mummy” she whispered desperately.

“You’ll be seeing her soon, sweetheart” Crowley said while wiping the sweat of her forehead and glancing at the bed where her mother had breathed her last just a short time ago, “I promise.”

What took Crowley aback was the look on Aziraphale’s face.

They had wasted even more time by not being honest with one another than he had thought.

That reminded him.

Time to move on.

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

Crowley quickly made his way through more and more memories; then, suddenly realizing that he was going nowhere, he reluctantly stopped and thought.

There had to be something he could do, something that would bring him closer.

And then he remembered a children’s movie he had watched in cinema when it first came out, of all things.

Core memories. There had to be memories that were more important to Aziraphale than others. If they were embedded deeper into his mind, then they must lead to him eventually.

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

The first memory he realized was important – from the sheer feel of it, the affection Aziraphale had for it was palpable – was of a small creperie in Paris in 1793.

“And” his past self was currently asking the angel, “Was that worth almost being discorporated for?”

“Oh my dear, they are simply marvellous! You must try one of them –“

“I don’t see why I should take one away from you, since you’re enjoying them so much.”

Present Crowley, meanwhile, was marvelling at the fact that he’d forgotten this was the first time Aziraphale had called him dear.

He smiled at the angel happily devouring his crepes, then realized he was just presenting a mirror image of the demon sitting across from him and hurried on.

Yes. This must be the right path.

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

And so he went on for he would never be able to say how long, determined to find his angel or die trying.

The memories that came up where almost exclusively of him and Aziraphale – with a few exceptions of miracles he’d performed and apparently been especially proud of, and small wonder, given how he had apparently convinced young Mozart to study extra hard.

Still, though.

Mostly, Aziraphale’s most treasure memories were of him and Crowley.

Crowley made a mental note to tell him that, could he see inside his head, it would look something like this, too.

Although perhaps not quite in that order.

After their crepes – well, he supposed he could call it a date now – there came the Crucifixion of all things. He didn’t quite understand until he realized that had been the first time when he’d openly admitted doing a good thing to Aziraphale. After all, he hadn’t really tempted Jesus like downstairs had wanted. He had just shown him the world, let him have a bit of fun. He’d deserved it, knowing what would come afterwards.

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

Another memory.

The two of them in the Globe theatre, watching Hamlet. The angel was munching away on some grapes, of course, looking pleased at the audience that had congregated.

Personally Crowley still didn’t like the gloomy ones, but it had been worth it just to see Aziraphale smile like that.

“You have to admit he’s wonderful” Aziraphale sighed, his eyes fixed on Burbage.

“Oh yes, wonderful” Crowley echoed, although he was definitely not looking at the actor, his attention focused elsewhere.

Seriously, how had they gotten this so wrong for six thousand years?

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

The next memory that felt as if it was of immense significance surprised Crowley somewhat, mostly because it had taken place only a few weeks ago and didn’t seem in any way particularly interesting to him.

They were lounging on the sofa, Aziraphale lost in a book as usual, with Crowley occasionally glancing towards the pages.

Well, obviously. Despite his attempts to make the angel believe that he didn’t do books, he liked to read now and then. Just now and then, mind.

“So what are you reading anyway, angel?”

He looked up and stared at him through his spectacles, clearly needing a moment to return from whatever literary heights the question had pulled him from. “Oh. It’s Stefan Zweig. An –“

“Austrian writer. I’m not that naive, angel. Early to middle of the twentieth century.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Yes! What he has to say about Marie-Antoinette may be incredibly inaccurate, but his language –“

“Would you read to me?” Crowley asked lazily, stretching out so he lay with his head in Aziraphale’s lap. “Too tired to read it myself.”

A pause. When this had happened, Crowley had already closed his eyes to focus on his angel’s voice, so that he hadn’t seen his expression; but now, his heart beat faster when he saw the obvious love in Aziraphale’s face as he began to read and simultaneously run his fingers through his hair.

Crolwey had dozed off one or two chapters in, but he hadn’t minded.

He swallowed and hastened away. If he wanted to make more of those memories, he had to find him.

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

Not-Crowley was strangely insistent today. Normally, he left Azriaphale alone after a while, but he’d all but carried him back to the book shop and was now actually busy making tea. He hadn’t bothered to do that since Aziraphale had figured out that this wasn’t real. “What are you doing?”

“You like tea.”

“Yes but it’s not real.”

He sighed. “How often do I have to tell you this is as real as you want it to be.”

“Not at all, then.”

“Again – it’s only a matter of time until they get him out there. You could just stop worrying and enjoy this. You enjoyed the time before you realized, didn’t you?”

He couldn’t deny that he had – he still felt guilty that he had somewhat betrayed Crowley. But certainly the demon would understand once he explained it to him.

He groaned. “Seriously? You still believe that he’ll show up?”

As a matter of fact, Aziraphale was growing more and more convinced that he would. Because there had to be a reason that Not-Corley was still there. And if he was at least partially in his mind to keep him here and growing more desperate…

I am waiting, dear. Don’t worry, I’m holding on.

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

Ah. The thwarted Apocalypse. This was one of Crowley’s favourite memories too – mainly because Aziraphale had finally admitted that they were on their own side.

He only gave it a passing glance.

He was getting closer.

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

What the –

He hopped around. Why was this –

Oh. The church. Crowley, who’d been working for British counterintelligence back then (and made sure not too many Londoners became victims of the bombs while selling his job to headquarters as planning a few war crimes) hadn’t even stopped to think when he’d learned about the Nazi spies who were tricking Aziraphale.

What he had not been aware of was the look on Aziraphale’s face as he was already walking towards the car.

Crowley recognized that feeling. It had really hit him in a blazing bookstore, but of course it had been building up for much longer, most likely since Eden…

Yes. Now he was getting close. There was no other explanation.

I’m coming, angel.

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

“What was that?” Aziraphale asked. He’d busied himself with reading, ignoring not-Crowley; but that last sentence had sounded different than his usual chatter, somehow…

“I wasn’t saying anything since you aren’t listening anyway” he sulked.

Aziraphale glanced at him. He looked… worried?

And that voice…

He’d heard it clear as a bell. I’m coming, angel.

Why would not-Crowley say something like that?

He wouldn’t.

But that meant…

His love must be near.

His heart beating wildly with hope, he got up and put the book away. Time to start to think about a way to deal with not-Crowley.

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

Yes. This had to be it. This had to be the last memory.

Crowley knew because – well, it was his favourite, too.

The night after the world had failed to end. The night where Aziraphale finally went home with him and actually took his hand on the bus ride, palm pressed against palm…

He’d then and there sworn to himself that he was never letting go again.

And he wasn’t about to.

Currently, he was staring at them trying very hard to tell each other what they needed to hear on his sofa. Oh Go- oh Satan, had he really stammered that much?

He sighed with relief as Aziraphale gently took off his glasses and said “I understand, dear.”

Of course the angel had been the first of them to lean in for a kiss. Say what you want, but once Aziraphale had made up his mind (even if it took him millennia sometimes) he always acted quickly on it.

And then, for the first time, he saw a door. Until now, the memories had simply followed one after the other without any transition being needed.

He saw it as a good sign and went to open it.

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

The important part was that he had to be very careful how to get rid of not-Crowley. There had to be some of his memories of the demon in there, if only to prove the delusion; so he couldn’t just eliminate him. That might have caused problems, not to mention possibly made him forget a few things about Crowley, and he couldn’t allow that.

How to extract all of that, though, that was the problem…

Well, it was his mind. And he remembered what the angels had done to him. Sort of. He shuddered at the thought of doing that to another person – to Crowley – but then, this wasn’t a person, was it? It was a representation of an abstract concept in his mind.

“Angel, it’s cold; why don’t you get away from that window?”

There was something in his voice, something strange and disheartening…

Almost as if he was growing even more nervous. But this was just a street in his mind, so –

And then Aziraphale saw him.

On the street.

Running towards the bookshop.

“Crowley!” he burst out, trying to go and meet him, but being held back by not-Crowley.

“Did you really think” he said quietly, “That it was going to be so easy?”

Chapter Nine

[coffeeandtin]

B 10 with Faraday. Where the reader cannot swim and they need to cross a river bed. But she does not tell Faraday about her not knowing how to and he ends up saving them all the while he is also scolding because his is shaken by almost losing them.

Here ya go! (Just so you know, the entire time I was writing this, I couldn’t quit thinking of that scene from The Mummy where Brendan Fraser throws Rachel Weisz into the river!) 

               “We’llhide our stuff here, and come back for it later,” Joshua said as he unfastenedhis gun belt with haste, and set it behind a rock with disproportionate care. “Takeoff your dress.”

               “Awfullyforward of you, Mister Faraday,” you said, even as you took off your own weapon,and began shucking off your dress. The dress was a formality, really. The pantsyou wore beneath kept you covered.

               “Don’twant you getting too water-logged,” he said as he shook his head and grinned.

               “How considerate.”

               Youboth snickered, and once your belongings were stashed. You scanned the distancefor your pursuers before you followed him to the edge of the river.

               “This’llhave to be good enough,” he said as he grimaced at the body of water before you.

               Thewidth of the river never seemed to taper, and the current never seemed to slow.

               “On thebright side, it doesn’t look like there are too many rocks,” you observed.

               “Naw,”Faraday said, as he waded into the water. “I’m sure they’re submerged.”

               You letout a nervous chuckle. The water reached Faraday’s midriff before he turned tosee that you had not moved any further.

               “Thewater’s cold, but there are bandits after us,” he reminded you.

               “Hellof a day,” you acknowledged as you stepped toward the waiting water, andconsidered taking your chances with the pack of thieves at your backs.

               You’dnever had occasion to learn how to swim, and now that you lacked any otheroption, it seemed like a grave oversight.

               Can’t be that hard, you thought. Just don’t drown.

               Keepingyour eyes on Joshua’s back, you went as quickly as you could. You navigated therocks, and righted yourself if you slipped. You built confidence until thewater reached your chin; it wouldn’t be long before the water was too deep, andyou’d have to paddle. After one more step, the riverbed fell away and your headslipped below the surface. You splashed backward and lost your footing. Yourarms and legs flailed. You found no purchase, or air. And then you were sweptaway.

               Faradayturned in time to see you disappear.

               No!

               Hesucked in air and paddled back toward where he hoped you’d be. He alternatedtreading water and searching the surface, and groping dumbly beneath him.

               Heshouted your name, and let the current carry him. Lack of air made his headspin. How long had you been missing? It was sheer luck that he saw your upperbody floating around the bend in the river. He rallied and lunged after you.The river had become narrow, but it was also deep. There was a tree that hadfallen and its length spanned nearly the entire width of the river. Unless hismind was playing tricks on him, he thought he saw you caught in the branches. Faradaylet he current take him to the tree. His chest hit the trunk hard, but he held tight,and dragged himself toward you.

               I’m coming, he thought. Hold on!

               He untangledyour insensible body from the branches and held you tight as the water pulledyou both further down the river. The cuts and scrapes he saw were the least ofhis concerns.

               Jesus Christ, I don’t think she’s breathing.

               Herepeated your name and held you close. He was a scared little boy, and if therewere tears in his eyes, the river washed them away, too. The water occasionallytook you both under, and he would pull you both back up.

               Thenwhen you were out of the shadow of the rocks, the current became more forgiving;and there was sand. Faraday pulled you out of the water. His own breathing wasragged, and he slumped to his knees beside you.

               “Hey, c’mon,”he said as though he expected you to answer him.

               “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” He begged.

               Hetilted your head back, and began pressing your chest. He pulled in as deep abreath as he could, covered your mouth with his and forced air into you. He becamemore desperate with every repetition, but by the third time he put his hands onyour chest you began to sputter, and cough, and choke. He helped you turn over,and rubbed your back as you retched.

               “Thankyou,” he whispered.

               Youboth sat there, bereft of energy.

               “Youdon’t know how to swim, do you?”

               “Neverhad to learn,” you confessed, and fought the urge to cough.

               “Jesus! Why didn’t say something?!”

               Youflinched at his tone, but kept your eyes riveted on the space between your feet.

               “Didn’tseem like we had much choice,” you pointed out.

               “Wecould have…fair enough,” he conceded. “I could have helped you, though. Youjust had to ask.”

               “Fairenough,” you echoed.

               Yourpride had got the better of you, and it took a brush with death for you torealize it. When you were sure you weren’t going to topple under your ownweight, you pushed yourself upward and got to your feet.

               “Weshould probably be going.”

               Faradayagreed and joined you. The walk back to meet the rest of the group waspunctuated by questions from Joshua.

               You know how to ride a horse, right?

               Your guns? You can shoot them,yeah?

               I mean…I just want to make sure.

                That wasa fair, you supposed.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Flood my Mornings: A King on a Throne

@anne-hedonia said: ...I started wondering about Jamie’s reaction to more of the nuts and bolts of 20th century life, particularly the hygiene. (I know he’s way past that now, but maybe he and Claire could reminisce.) What did he think when he first saw a toilet? Did he think it was as great an invention as I would if I were stuck in the 18th century without one? (I’m not sure I could do the no-toilets-and-wiping-with-leaves thing, I’m just saying.)

This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.

See all past installments via Bonnie’s Master List

Previous installment: Cozy  

(throwing all the way back to Ch 2 on this one) 

October, 1951 

“Mummy??!!! Mummy!! Mummm-meeeeeeee!!???”

“What-ee-what-ee-what-eeeeeee?” I chorused back from the kitchen. 

I’d had the brilliant idea, in a burst of uncharacteristic domesticity, to try my hand at swiss roll this afternoon. It was NOT going well, so I was more than happy to turn from my own personal disaster area toward the pitter patter (well, more of a thundering) of little feet behind me. 

“Mummy!!” Bree crowed as she zoomed across the linoleum and leapt into my arms, “I poo-pooed in the potty all-by-my-SELF!!!” 

“You DID?” I cried, swooping her up. “Darling, that’s wonderful!” 

“Uh-HUH! And Daddy didn’int even hafta tell me to!!!” 

I kissed her exuberantly on both cheeks. “Well DONE, sweetheart!!” This wasn’t feigned enthusiasm on my part, not in the slightest. Trying to get Bree out of nappies had been something of a saga over the last six months in the Fraser household. 

I’d taken a high-minded notion, while pregnant, that under no circumstances were we going to have two children simultaneously in diapers; and two-and-a-half was a perfectly natural age to make the transition in any case. And so Jamie, Penelope, and I had all thrown massive energies into the imperative of getting Bree using the toilet before Ian was born. 

Some children, as it turned out, though, were simply late bloomers when it came to changing their voiding routines. My child specifically seemed to be of the “I will die on this hill unbloomed from pure spite” genus. 

It had been a constant rotation of ‘lessons,’ coaxing (read: bribes), endless sit-and-wait sessions as chaperone on the edge of the tub, cheerful reminders, tantrums, eagerly trying new strategies from books and friends, and the inevitable tearing out of our collective hair when she would have yet another accident, usually with impeccable cosmic timing, in public. To think we might actually have the knack of things now, then, would be a genuinely spectacular early birthday gift, and so I was just about as radiant as Bree at the news. 

“I’m so proud of you, lovey!” 

“FANKS!!!” 

Apparently done with congratulations, she wriggled down from my arms and went mrooooming back from whence she’d come, nearly careening into Jamie’s legs as she turned the corner into the hall. 

He made her a leg with a courtly flourish to let her pass, shaking his head and grinning as he stepped through the doorway. “It’s almost a wee bit sad, to have her grow past it, no?” 

“HA! NO! I’m over the moon!” I declared as I turned to see if I could salvage my failed roll. “Here’s hoping Ian is a tad more precocious, when it comes his time.” 

We both snorted as a ‘Poo-pee-poooooo! Pee-poo-peeeeee!’ sounded out from across the house, to the jaunty tune of ‘Jingle Bells.’ 

“I still can’t for the life of me decide what it is that had her so hung up in the first place,” I lamented as I checked the backup sponge I’d prepared for just such eventualities. “I mean, she’s well ahead of most children her age in so many other aspects!” 

“Well, and if she didna take to it at once, it’s no’ entirely without basis. It is a fearsome device, after all.” 

“What, the toilet?” I laughed, taken aback, grinning at him over my shoulder as I tidied up a bit, waiting for the second sponge to cool. 

“Aye, of course,” he said soberly with an eyebrow raised, as though taken aback in turn. “Do ye mean to say that you yourself were never afraid of the sound when it whisks away?” 

“I mean, not that I can recall....What, are you scared of the flush?” 

“Well, none so much NOW,” he said with a defensiveness that made my cheeks twitch with glee, “but it’s relatively fresh in my mind, aye? I’ve been using one little more than a year, after all.” 

“I suppose that’s right! Erm...How did you come to use one the first time, might I ask? Did you figure it out on your own?” I tried to make it a serious question and only half-succeeded. My voice trembled absurdly as my lips quivered. “Or did you have to have someone —show you—how?”

“T’was on my own merits, thank ye kindly,” Jamie said with a good-natured glare as he plunked down into a chair and put his feet up on the table. “Though I did have a bit of help to point me in the right direction, ken?”

“I don’t ken, but I’m ALL ears.” 

“Let’s see, then...” He stretched luxuriously and ran his hands through his hair as he settled in for the tale. “I suppose it would have been....Aye, it was in Inverness. I’d come through the stones, and the American lads had given me a ride into town, some clothes and such. Early that next morning, there was the kind priest who counseled me and gave me help to get to Oxford.” 

He’d told me the story, of course, and I found myself uttering a silent prayer for Jamie’s savior, whoever he was. 

“Well, he could see that I hadna anything by way of means, and that I was out of my element, forbye. So, in addition to giving me money and a meal, he took me to an inn and arranged for me to have access to the facilities to wash and shave. The keeper showed me to the washroom and handed me a towel, and I thanked him, and he closed the door, and—” He laughed. “I think I just stood wi’ my gob hanging open for a time. Wasna sure where to begin in the great, shining place.”

I could just imagine Jamie Fraser, bedraggled and bewildered, trying to process all that tile and porcelain and gleaming metal with an eighteenth-century mind. 

“My bowels must have taken the measure of the place better than my brain, though, for I quite suddenly found myself needing to, erm, well.... Let us say that urgent necessity prompted a verra rapid leap of faith.” 

“Jolly good thing you didn’t shit in the sink! That would have been a bit awkward to explain to the innkee—” I stopped and turned from my task of slathering filling on the cake. “You didn’t, did you?”  

“Got it on the first try, thank Heaven. It was a matter of deduction, mostly. I could see that the tub was likely for washing the body (a good bit larger than those I’d used before, but still, it recalled the shape of a proper copper tub) and that the sink might resemble a basin on a washstand; so as for the toilet, it was more a process of elimination—no pun intended.” 

“Victory!” I cried as the roll finally rolled without cracking. 

“A small one, but a great relief it was, to be sure,” he agreed. 

I rubbed my upper lip in an effort not to laugh. “So, what did you think of it? Once you’d, erm.... leapt?” 

“Didna like the feel of the cold seat on my arse. I think I ended up squatting over it, more like...” He ran a hand over his stubbled chin, giving him the air of a professor, musing over some weighty theorem. “But, to be fair, I do recall a goodly sort of satisfaction in watching and hearing my offerings hit the water—like that lovely thunk when ye drop a stone in a deep pond.” 

I choked on the scrap of cake I’d just popped into my mouth. “Glad it—” I wheezed crumbs into my windpipe and had to pound my chest and wipe my eyes. “—was a recreational experience, on top of—educational!” I shook with unbridled delight as I swallowed and leaned against the counter, grinning at him. “What did you think of the toilet paper?” 

He sighed, enraptured. “I felt like a proper king. Most luxurious thing I’d ever heard of, using paper to wipe my arse! And SUCH paper—I thought it was fabric, at first! So soft, and gentle as a rose petal,” he intoned with a look of unequivocal bliss. “There are a good many things I miss about my own time, Sassenach, but cleaning myself wi’ leaves and plant matter isna one. I’ll always insist upon paying more at the shops for the thickest, softest stuff, even if I have to live on bread and water to accommodate such lavishness.” 

“No need to give up steaks and fried potatoes just yet, don’t worry.” 

He crossed one ankle over the other. “Mind, any enjoyment vanished rather quickly when confronted wi’ the question of what to DO wi’ the new contents.” 

“Oh NO!” I groaned. “Oh, Jesus H Christ, tell me you didn’t—” 

“Well, and I’d lived twenty-five years of my life emptying chamber pots, had I not? Or else seeing to my business in a privy or outdoors, at which point ye simply walk away! But it didna seem right to simply leave it thus, so stark against the white! There wasna a window in the room, thank God, else I might have tried to chuck it out by hand, but I did spend several minutes trying to see if I was supposed to detach the bowl in some way. It’s a true wonder I didna break it and flood the room! But finally,” he said, ratcheting up his volume to be heard over my cackling, “I ended up pushing down the lever by accident, and had I not recently voided thoroughly, I might have wet myself over again from the shock of it! I still hate that sound when it echoes about the walls!” 

It was a considerable passage of time before I was able to speak normally again, and even then, it was more of a hacking cough between sobs of laughter. “Quite an adventure you had, my love!” 

“Indeed. The bath, though—that was an unmitigated delight.” 

Roll cooling, I came over and melted onto his lap, triumphant on two fronts. “And HOW many times did I tell you so, back in the olden days?” 

“Endlessly,” he conceded, pulling me close and kissing my neck, “and ye were perfectly right. Pure heaven.”

“I had to sit at the stones, that first time, and seriously think about hot baths—whether I could give them up forever, for you.” 

“Well, I’m most flattered,” he said, pressing slow, warm kisses along my jawline. “Though, I willna lie to ye: I would give YOU up in a heartbeat if it meant I could have toilet paper forever.” 

“Arse,” I murmured against his lips, which were tight with a grin, like mine. 

“Aye, the very one.” 

[daphner20]

John Woodside

Forgiveness

Prologue “Today is the best day of my life,” said John Michael Woodside II joyfully. Am in grade 7 at the most prestigious Catholic High school in The Bahamas. St. Francis of Assisi, was the most competitive school to get in. There were almost a thousand entries, but only 100 applicants were accepted. John was in the top 5% with the highest score. He played soccer, baseball, basketball, and ran track. He also played the piano pretty well. Let’s see what they said “ he would be an asset to the school”. And the icing on the cake, I was an altar boy. My best friend Benjamin Hall, got accepted as well, this is so cool. John, didn’t think much of his life up to now. He was an only child. His father John Sr. , whom he loved fiercely, was his idol. His mother, (the prettiest woman in the world) whom he adore was his everything. His father, was quite a bit older than his mother (30 years). But they seem very happy. Most people called them wealthy, he knew they lived in a upscale gated community, he was chauffeur driven every where, and for as long as he could remember, he had travelled extensively, with his parents, ( his father had his own plane). He overheard, his father, telling his mom, that he was contemplating buying a yacht. “Time to go”, said his Father. “Do well, I am so proud of you”, beamed his Dad. “Thank you, daddy,” said John, as he hugged him, and kissed his mom. The first day of school, was everything, John, thought it will be, Benjamin, and I were in the same class. At recess, I heard my name on the PA system, to come to the Principal’s office. When I got there, my chauffeur, Mr. Lee was there.

He said , “there has been an accident.”

Chapter 1 John in his 12 years, never had to deal with anything distressing. Mr. Lee, didn’t offer any other information. We he got to the house, there were so many people there. He wanted to see his father, because Daddy will explain everything to him. However, it was his mom, who came to him. She was disheveled, no makeup, track suit and sneakers, this isn’t my mom. “ Where is Daddy?, I asked. “ Your father, is dead, he suffered a heart attack this morning,” she said sobbing. “ This can’t be, I just saw him this morning,” I said in disbelief. “I want to see him, this can’t be,” I shouted. ‘Its true Johnny,” she was openly sobbing. As I looked around, all the staff was crying as well. Then I knew, my daddy was gone, my heart just melted, and I just couldn’t stopped the tears. Suddenly, my father’s lawyer Mr. Campbell told my mom, that he needed to speak with her in my dad’s study. I noticed, that 3 men and a woman, entered, as well. I have never seen them in my life. About half and hour later, I heard my mom screaming, No! I can’t loose another parent I thought, as I burst through the study door. “Leave my mother alone,” I shouted. Then this man turned at looked with such hatred, “ so this is the bastard” he said cruelly. “ Stop it,” said my mother “ Stop what,” said the stranger, “ I am just getting started.”

“ What is your name?” asked the female stranger. ‘ John Michael Woodside the second,” I said proudly. “ Unbelievable,” shouted male stranger, “He gave his bastard his name.” “ Stopped saying that,” said my mother, “he is a little boy.” “ Do you know, who we are?, asked male stranger 2. “ No,” I said. The girl stranger, just starting crying, “he forgot about us,” she continued crying. Finally, stranger male 3, said, “ we are your brothers and sister. I am Jason, I am the second,, this is James, the third son, this is Jasmine our sister. And this is the eldest son, John Michael Woodside the second.” He pointed to the first stranger. I looked to my mother, for affirmation, she looked liked her worst nightmare had just came true. “ How come we have the same name, as our father,” I asked the first John the second. “That is not your name, he was not your father, and we are nothing to you,” he said angrily. Mr. Campbell, finally spoke, “Let us show some respect for your father. I know that emotions are raw, but don’t let us say anything we will regret.” “ Considering my father, never divorce our mother, from this moment on, I am now the head of this family.” John the first second said as a matter of fact.

Chapter 2 The day my dad was buried, it was dark and wet like my soul. My mother and I were not allowed to attend. The servants were, but not us. In one week’s time. My whole world was turn upside down. When my mom, meet my dad, she was 20 and he was 50. She was his junior secretary, at the Offshore Bank, where he was the President. My brothers were

28, 26, 23, and Jasmine was 18. With my dad being Catholic, he didn’t divorce their mother. My mom, got pregnant with me 2 years later. I was their love child. Because of the scandal, he was forced to retire, however, he took two thirds of the bank clients, and open up his own private trust company. My mom and I became his family. His children never forgave him or spoke to him again. So, in one week, because my dad didn’t leave a will. My oldest brother, became his heir. First decree, we were not allowed to attend the funeral. We were kicked out of the house. My name was taken from me. My dad’s name was never on my birth certificate, ( my parents were not married) so my name was John Michael Munnings. ( my mom’s maiden name) And finally, I never returned to St. Francis of Assisi. There was no provision for our future. My mother left all of that to my dad. I hated every thing and everyone. Things couldn’t get worse, don’t bet on it! We had no place to go, my mother didn’t want to keep me out of school, much longer, so she decided to return home. Because, we had little money, we had to take a mail boat to Orange Creek, Andros, that was my mom’s home. The boat took 10 hours, and we arrived at 5 am the next day. An elderly man, came to pick us up, in an old beat up truck. He didn’t say one word to my mom. He just loaded up our things on the truck.. I don’t know how long we were driving, but it felt forever. We pulled into a modest wooden house. I couldn’t see much, it was still dark. The old man, put our stuff in a small room, with an even smaller bed, and left. My mom told me to go back to sleep. Later that morning, mummy got me up. She told me she had to enroll me in school. This was another Catholic School, but it wasn’t like the one in Nassau. It had from kindergarten to grade 12. The average size of the class was 10 students. I could still wear my St. Francis of Assisi school uniform. Everyone seem friendly enough.

St. Thomas More, was the name of the school, it was a 20 minute walk to the house, everyone lived in the settlement. On the island, instead of towns, they were called settlements. When I got to the house, I was formally introduce to my maternal grandparents. Charles and Louise Munnings. My mother, looked exactly liked my grandma. My grandmother did all the talking. “Your mother, has brought shame and disgrace to this family, we will keep you, but she is not welcome here.” I looked at my mom, who was sobbing quietly. “Please Mummy, don’t leave me, “ I begged. “ It will only be for a short while,” Mummy said. “I will come back for you, and we will get our life back.” That night, as I lay on my tiny bed, I made a vow, I will never forgive my mother, or my siblings.

Chapter 3 “ Do you have your speech,” asked my Grandfather. “Yes sir,” I replied. I am the Valedictorian of St. Thomas More Prep. It’s been six years. I thought it was going to be 3 months! My mom, never came back. She got married, two years later, and guess to whom? Yep my oldest brother, John the second. He has truly taken every thing away from me. Life on Andros, was hard. Firstly, my grandparents who were devoted Catholics, had the mindset, church and work. My grandfather was a Catechist, and grandma played the organ in church. I took that role over when I became 15, 2 mass every Sunday, and the high seasons. My grandfather was a fisherman. He liked to say,” they were Jesus' s favorite people.”

So, for the last 6 years, this was my life: devotions at 5am, rain or shine; feed the chickens, rain or shine; (grandma sold organic eggs) ; school, rain or shine; mass rain or shine. After school, I helped Grandpa, with the nets and his boat. I asked God, that if I ever get of this island, may I never returned. My grandfather believed, that I will follow in his footsteps. I wanted to be an investment banker, like my dad. I wanted to make so much money, that no one will ever be responsible for my well being, only me. Unbeknown to me, my guidance counselor, Mrs. Smith had fill out several scholarship applications, and I got them all. Because I was 18. I didn’t need anyone’s permission or consent. Thank you Lord. As I walked down to the graduation ceremony, I knew my mother, will not be there, I haven’t seen or spoken to her in 6 years. My grandparents, never discussed her, and neither did I. I thought of my dad, and the last thing he said to me was “I am proud of you”. I have no more tears left. A month later, as I said goodbye to my grandparents. I was on my way to St. John's University, New York, on a full ride. I knew that I didn’t want to see this country again, or my family. “Thank you Grandfather,” I said as I shook his hands. “ Thank you Grandma,” I said as I kissed her cheeks. “Goodbye son,” they said in unison. Chapter 4 As I looked out on Central Park, from my penthouse, I had to pat myself on the back. You have made it. Forbes Magazine, had just listed me, as one of the youngest millionaires under 35 ( I was 32). It’s been 14 years, since I left Andros. I didn’t returned even when my grandma died 3 years ago. There wasn’t nothing there for me . I am living my best life. It’s 6am and my cellphone is blowing up, who is calling me? And from a 242 area code The Bahamas. “ Hello,” I said in my most annoyed voice.

“ Good, morning Johnny, this is Mrs. Smith from Andros, your grandfather, has been airlifted to the city on an emergency flight. He is at Nassau Hospital. He is asking for you, so don’t tarry. I came on the flight with him, so I will you see you when you get here.” Click. “Why me,” asked John, as he booked a flight, made hotel arrangements, and cancelled all of his appointments for the next week. As the flight touchdown in Nassau, the country of his birth, John heart was hurting. “20 years,” he muttered to himself. He hadn’t been back in 20 years. When he got at the hospital, Mrs. Smith, just hold him tightly. “ Go in John,” she said quietly. As I walked in the room, lying on that bed was not Charles Isaac Munnings. Not the imposing figure of my childhood. The man laying there was frail and fragile, he was hooked up to a lot of machines. He opened his eyes, and motioned me to come closer. “Forgive me,” he said weakly. “ No Grandpa, forgive me, I should have come back sooner.” “ No, son, unforgiveness, has robbed from me of a relationship, with your mom, my only child for over 35 years. When you came to us, it was like God was giving us a second chance. But we were so bitter and angry with Carol, that we couldn’t see that we were creating you to be like us. The greatest gift you can give your self, is a spirit of forgiveness. Johnny, my dear son, My departure is at hand. Forgive your mom, and your siblings. Forgive me and your grandma. Bury me in Andros, with your grandma. Now pray with me one last time.’ “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be your name. Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespassed against us.” Then my grandpa died. And after 20 years, as the tears flowed, I finally found Peace.

As I knocked on my father’s door, Mr. Lee open the door. “ Master John,” he exclaimed with genuine warmth.

“ Hello Mr. Lee, I replied, is my mother here?” He hesitated for a moment, “ Don’t worry Mr. Lee, it’s ok.” He pointed at my dad's study. As I entered the room, to my surprise, they were all there. My mom, John the second, Jason, James and Jasmine. The glass fell out of my mom’s hand. “ Johnny?” It was more of a question, than statement. “Yes, I said, “ Your father died today, here in Nassau, but he wants to be buried in Andros, because you are his child, I need your permission to release the body. I will take care of all of the arrangements. My mother, still a beautiful woman at 54, aged immediately, that is when she finally moved, and cried in my neck for eternity. “ John, forgive me,” she cried. “ Its ok Mum, the hand of The Almighty, has been with me, all these 20 years, what the enemy meant for evil, the Lord made it for my good.” I said. My grandfather left me, every thing he owned, one hundred acres of land in Andros. And now I own the largest commercial fishing company in The Bahamas. It has provided over 90% of employment in Andros. Plus grandma organic eggs, has become a house hold name. THE END