#I just recently learned that “golden rings” are actually birds too

[tklishbrwngrl]

Merry Christmas! At what point of Christmas are the 12 days of Christmas supposed to start? Just the beginning of December or specifically 12 before Christmas?

[silverwhiteraven]

Wings of Broken White - Ch. 1

Tag List: @marichatmay

[ Posted on Ao3 ] [ Chapter 2 ]

[ Author’s Note: Decided to get a head-start on MariChat May this year~! It’s a Chat Blanc and Wing AU, I hope you enjoy <3 ]

[ Summary:  Wings are commonplace in the world, but, some people who have them, also lose them. So how did this miraculous duo get theirs back? ]

Gabriel watched over his young sleeping son, contemplating his decision as the melancholic rain tapped against the outside of the windows.

He could feel the sorrow, heartbreak, and confusion radiating from Adrien even as he slept, each one causing him to curl up tight and his face scrunch in pain. The beautiful wings on his back, black with each feather tipped in white like a starling's and still riddled with fluffy down-feathers, twitching with tension and anxiety. The recent news of his Mother’s disappearance had all these emotions still raw and un-soothed, something no seven year old child should ever have to endure.

Those horrible feelings, rather than deterring Gabriel, only strengthened his resolve.

The Graham de Vanily wedding band slid easily off of Gabriel’s finger, and as he clutched it in his hand, he called out for the first time in a long while, “Nooroo.. Wings Rise.”

His suit was colored in gentle lavender and soft silver details. It still looked as beautiful as the day Emilie said it made him look like a prince and inspired the name, Monarch.

The wedding band was carefully slipped onto Adrien’s finger, too big for his still young hands. But his hand clenched as it was put in place, like he had just been given a drowner’s lifeline.

Monarch then went to the window and crashed it open, summoning a little white butterfly from outside to land in his open palm. Covering it, he silently commanded for his magic to imbue into the little creature. When it was revealed once more, it’s colors now reflected his own silver and lavender. He then reapproached his son’s bedside.

It felt off, using a Blessing, imbued with positive emotions, on someone who wasn’t feeling any of the necessary feelings, only dark ones. But Monarch dismissed the concern in favor of his goal.

Gently, he set the Blessing onto the ring on Adrien’s finger and it disappeared into it.

He could feel the conflict between the good emotions inside the Blessing and the bad ones festering inside of Adrien. But the good seemed to win out as suddenly the boy was relaxing into his sheets, and his body was cocooned in glowing lavender ribbons.

When the lavender light dispersed, there was someone a little different left in Adrien’s place. This boy had hair white as snow, and when his eyes slightly fluttered and then closed again, Monarch saw glacial blue instead of spring green. Another glance revealed that the beautiful dark wings of Adrien were nowhere to be seen, not even a feather left behind.

“White Rose,” Monarch whispered, the flicker of a lavender butterfly outline hovering before his Champion’s face. “You have a desire to see your Mother again, and make your Father happy like he once was. No one should suffer because of something that was meant for good but had been broken and only caused pain. So I give you the power to save those who have been harmed by that broken item, and restore what is meant to be.”

A beat of silence and another fluttering of blue eyes, but White Rose did not stir.

The outline flickered again, and then it was gone like a popped fuse.

Monarch, confused, tried to establish the connection when he felt it fizzle out. But he received nothing. Worried, he reached out to the Blessing directly and tried to pull at it. It didn’t budge, instead, it seemed to fight back. Pain split through Monarch’s head and he gasped, stumbling back.

He had lost connection and control to his own Blessing and Champion.

Monarch realized now why he shouldn't have mixed his magic with the darker emotions that were not meant to be touched by the light of a Blessing. He was uncertain he would be able to retrieve the Blessing at all now, not without breaking the ring he held dearly.

So instead, he gently opened White Rose’s hand and pulled the Graham de Vanily ring from his finger.

“Wings Fall, Nooroo.” As soon as Gabriel was back to himself, he slid the ring back onto his own finger. “I will keep this safe for you, Adrien, until you are ready.” He turned to walk away before pausing, glancing back with sympathy and regret.

“Please be okay. I can’t lose you, too.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Marinette was born with small fluffy wings on her back. Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng were wing-less, so it was reasonable that they were taken by surprise when their child inherited genes they themselves had not.

Tom liked to call her their little croissant because her soft fledgling wings held the golden-browned color of baked bread. Sabine told him it wouldn't stick, and they had no clue what color her mature feathers would take on. And Marinette’s mother was correct.

As their daughter grew, so too did her wings. The soft baked gold greyed and the soft down was slowly covered by sleek feathers. Soon enough her wingspan became larger, almost outdoing her own height from wingtip to wingtip.

It wasn’t until she was eight, when her wings were finally mature enough for flight, that Tom and Sabine were able to say for certain where her wings had come from in the family tree.

“She’s going to have the wingspan of a Common Crane like your mother,” Sabine chuckled as she watched little Marinette squeak as she fumbled to catch a stack of trays she knocked off a shelf with her wings.

“Yes, she is a marvelous little Crane, isn’t she?” Tom chuckled. “She already has that beautiful grey ombre of a Demoiselle like your great-Grandmother.”

“You're right! She even has those lovely and decoratively long tertiary feathers, too.”

“I thought only boy birds had fancy feathers,” Tom teased his wife.

She elbowed him gently and laughed. “You already know it’s disproved that humans don’t follow the same patterns as birds, Tom, we never have. Anyone can find beauty in another’s feathers.”

“Or lack of,” he adds on, kissing his wife atop her head and causing her to nod and laugh.

Marinette continued to grow, wings and all. When she was nine, she found a new passion in knitting, crochet, embroidery, and sewing. She had loved to draw since she was a toddler, but these new crafts allowed her to bring her imagination to life.

At ten, she purchased her first magazine. The cover featured a white haired and wingless boy her own age, the article titled: `For the FIRST TIME EVER, the public eye meets the MUSE and SON of Gabriel Agreste!’

Tom and Sabine got a good laugh out of the fact that she completely ignored the boy and the article, “She hasn’t hit a boy-crazy faze, thank goodness,” and instead only looked at the fashion and design related pages.

Unfortunately, they also would later witnessed Marinette begin to go through some social rough patches as well, and she vented it through her creations. Something she had meant to show off turned into a source of bullying on her very first day of secondary school, collège, when she was eleven. Marinette had been researching and learning fashion’s history around wings. She learned that higher beauty standards from the upper social classes meant that some people would often bind their wings as a way to keep their postures straight and elegant. She also learned there were ways to hide one’s wings below their clothing, techniques differing from wing-type to wing-type and body-type to body-type.

So during the summer break after her last day of primary school, preparing herself for her first days of secondary school, Marinette set out to make a wing-binder for herself. She succeeded in making two different types in her multiple attempts.

The first one she made was a simple netting, a style and technique that had been around for thousands of years. The netting was intended to slide underneath and between the feathers to rest perfectly out of sight. It’s use ranged from simple posture enhancement, to flight prevention in those who might injure themselves if they tried to fly when they were not ready.

The second type she made was actually more of a corset style, as it would wrap around the torso as well, not just the wings themselves. This style was one intended for hiding wings completely from sight, with the assistance of the proper style of clothing to layer over it. She had made two of this type, one each for two different ways to hide the wings.

The first was basic and classic, her wings meant to be held tight against her back with the ends of her wingtips made to drop down to the back of her legs. This one was best suited to be paired with tight shirts, loose pants, and an over-shirt, shawl, or jacket.

The second was more lax but harder to keep in position for long amounts of time. Her wings were to be spread, dipping under her arms and either over her chest or under her bust, whichever was more comfortable and-or suited the binding’s cut. This style was best paired with a dress or a loose shirt and skirt.

Marinette wanted to wear one of the wing-corsets, hoping to see a few of her friends from primary school and surprise them with her new ability to change her appearance. Sabine and Tom supported her in her excitement. Wanting her to have a comfortable day, they suggested she use the style that wraps her wings around her, especially since it looked like it might rain, and her wings would keep her warm.

When she returned home for lunch, she seemed tired and a little wet from the weather, but happy. Marinette explained that the Mayor’s daughter herself attended Collège Françoise Dupont with her, and was excited to get to know her. She had also seen Nino, Alix, and Kim, but none of her other old friends. The three that were there had been surprised, though, so she was overjoyed to have gotten their reactions and awe. She even asked them to keep her wings a secret so she could surprise the rest of the class with them later.

When Marinette went back to school for the rest of the day, the Dupain-Cheng couple were happy for their daughter. But neither one knew the news of the Mayor’s child would turn out to be bad luck for their precious daughter and her beautiful wings.

[souvcniir]

*   bopping  along  to  forever  by  drake  is  𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐑  ,  the  twenty  two  year  old  cis  man  thrown  back  to  their  business  days  with  none  of  his   memories  .  voted  most  likely  to  move  out  the  country  ,  alis  was  known  for  being   resilient &   facetious ,  go  figures  you'd  always  find  them  being  threatened  to  be  kicked  off  of  the  football  team  ,  but  grew  up  to  be   audacious &  untrusting  .

what’s  happening  cuties  !   listen  ,  i  cannot  join  a  group  without  giving  the  fattest  and  biggest  warning  that  despite  being  in  the  rpc  for  a  minute  now  ,   i  still  suck  at  introductions  .  embarrassing  luv  ,  i  know  asdj  .  i’m  gi(anna)  ,  i’m  nineteen  years  old  ( a  big  old  baby   )  ,  i  go  by  she  and  her  pronouns  and  i  currently  live  on  the  east  coast  which  throws  me  in  the  est  timezone  !!!  this  is  one  out  of  two  of  my  children  that  i’ll  be  bringing  you  ,   and  um  can  i  just  say  im  obsessed  with  the  fc  pairing  i  got  going  on  for  alistair  .  aron  piper  and   giuseppe  maggio  ?   this  is  what  heaven  is   asdfgh  .    down  below  you’ll  find  a  little  about  alistair  !  and  if  you  want  to  plot  you  can  either  smash  the  heart  button  ,  send  me  a  message  ,  or  message  me  on  discord  at  𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐲#1776  .

*   𝐎𝐍𝐄                          𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒  .

a   black   eye   in   response   of   words   of   provokement   ,   lonely   nights   concealed   by   random   bodies   ,   gold   rings   sitting   on   bruised   knuckles   ,   calloused   digits   shielding   a   bright   sun   from   bloodshot   eyes   ,   distant   chatter   drowned   out   by   loud   thoughts   ,    salty  drops   gleaming   on   tan   skin   ,   enchanting   pearly   whites   ,   thunderstorms   singing   pretty   hues   to   sleep     .

*   𝐓𝐖𝐎                          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 .

full   name.   alistair  aurelius  salazar  .   nickname(s).    alis  ,  ali  .   preferred   name.   alistair  .   past  age.   twenty  two  .   present  age.   thirty  two  .   date  of  birth.   november  first  .  zodiac.  scorpio  . gender.    cis  man .   pronouns.   he  and  him  .   sexuality.  pansexual  .   younger  faceclaim.   aron  piper  .   older  faceclaim.   giuseppe  maggio   .   character  inspiration.    hardin  scott  ,   niccolo  govender  rossi  ,  lip  gallagher  ,  and   bellamy  blake  .

*   𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄                          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐒  .

(   physical  abuse  ,  slightly  detailed     )

    sorrows  and  raindrops     ,   remnants  of  a  first  breath  that  established  the  tone  of  the  upbringing  of  curly  locks  and  pearly  whites  that  never  flashed  for  too  long  .      he  was  a  prisoner  in  a  punishment  meant  for  another  .   he  was  a  prisoner  to  rage  .

   he’s  made  up  of  pleads  ,   and  sobs  that  still  haunt  his  childhood   .   neglected  of  forehead  kisses  and  bedtime  stories   ,  gifted  fists  against  previously  bruised  flesh  in  substitution  .    black  and  blue  decorating  his  body  so  frequency  that  for  a  while  he  forgot  what  he  looked  like  without  them  .   

   one  night  ,  he   held  his  broken  arm  in  his  lap  and  begged  her  to  tell  him  why  ,  why  did  she  hate  him  so  much  ?    she  never  answered  ,   didn’t  even  move  a  muscle  .   left  her  seven  year  old  child  to  pull  himself  off  of  the  floor  and  out  the  door  .  that  was  his  last  memory  of  her  .

    left  in  the  care  of  the  foster  system    and  a  year  later  was  put  into  the  custody of  a  man  who  was  suppose  to  be  his  father  .   a  politician  who  had  cared  more  about  his  image  then  his  own  blood  eight  years  earlier  .   not  an  excuse  ,  his  father  would  learn  that  with  the  help  of  guilt  eating  him  from  the  inside  out  .  did  everything  he  could  think  of  to  make  it  up  ,    not  an  easy  challenge  .  

*   𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑                         𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 .

walked  hand  in  hand  with  being  difficult  .      labeled  the  broken  bird  .  the  dirt  bag  .   found  traces  of  himself  in  chaos  and  so  he  became  it  .    a  smart  boy  drowning  in  a  hurt  he  had  not  fully  recovered  from  .    got  better  as  the  years  went  ,   and  twenty  two  was  his  golden  years  of  doing  his  very  best  to  not  self  destruction  .  

kept  himself  busy  ,  but  that  does  not  mean  he  kept  himself  out  of  trouble  .  a  smart  boy  who  had  the  ability  to  stumble  into  class  with  black  rims  covering  regrets  from  the  previous  night  .   cannabis  was  the  best  form  of  therapy  and  getting  blacked  out  on  weekdays  was  his  favorite  sin  .   

careless  and  impulsive  ,  everyone’s  favorite  partner  in  crime  .  bruised  knuckles  and  a  fat  lip  were  the  consequence  of  a  insolent  mouth  that  never  knew  when  to  stop  .   smiled  with  blood  dripping  from  his  mouth  and  returned  to  his  dorm  with  bruised  knuckles  ,  now  he  remembered  what  he  looked  like  .    

charming  words  and  wandering  hands  might’ve  fooled  you  ,  but  commitment  for  him  was  unreachable  .   he  was  stuck  in  the  mindset  that  he  was  too  fucked  up  for  someone  to  love  him  and  it  showed  in  every  relationship  he  had  ever  had  .   he  was  the  heartbreaker  ,  or  more  so  the  cold  hearted  .  used  others  to  silence  the  demons  in  his  head  and  left  before  the  sun  crept  through  curtains  .  

*   𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄                         𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓  .

ten  years  formed  a  new  label  ,  the  phoenix  .   the  businessman  .    moved  around  until  he  settled  in   san  francisco  where  he  soon  opened  up  a  bar  with  his  business  partner  .   successful  ,  finally  funded  his  own  life  with  money  that  he  earned  .  but  there  was  more  to  him  then  just  expensive  cars  and  days  being  referred  to  as  boss  . 

healed  in  more  ways  then  he  had  been  ten  years  ago  ,  thanks  to  the  help  of  actual  therapy  (  though  cannabis   was  still  a  friend  )   .   greatest  achievement  was  finding  forgiveness  in  his  heart  for  his  father  and  building  a  normal  son  -  father  relationship  .    

decided  early  he  didn’t  want  kids  and  instead  adopted  a  pitbull  named  kyson  .   his  best  friend  and  as  those  around  him  joke  ,  his  son  .   is  his  background  a  picture  of  him  and  his  dog  ,  yes  .  mind  your  business  .

now  a  known  playboy  ,  though  most  aren’t  surprised  .  says  he’s  too  busy  for  relationships  but  it’s  just  the  fact  that  some  things  never  change  and  commitment  was  still  a  scary  thing  .  

recently  ,  as  in  the  last  three  years  ,  moved  to  riccione  ,  where  he  opened  up  his  fourth  bar  .   lives  in  a  house  on  the  beach  and  only  returns  home  every  few  months  (  plus  the  holidays  )  .  has  become  a  big  beach  bum  ,  but  he  likes  the  environment  .  does  the  whole  beach  life  activities  too  ,  the  hiking  and  the  surfing  (  though  he’s  not  very  good  )   .  

no  longer  a  fighter  ,  and  instead  is  the  one  breaking  them  up  .   realized  there  was  one  thing  he  never  wanted  to  be  ,  his  mother  ,  and  so  he’d  never  resort  to  using  his  fist  unless  in  the  act  of  defense  and  even  then  he’s  had  a  good  job  of  walking  away  .  

*   𝐒𝐈𝐗                         𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓  𝐈𝐍  𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓   .

back  to  square  one  .  no  memories  of  who  he  grew  up  to  be  ,  just  the  old  feeling  of  anger  and  hurt  .   sad  to  see  his  process  thrown  out  the  window  ,  his  healing  cracked  open  .  the  biggest  question  ,  is  will  he  get  to  his  end  point  once  again  or  will  a  second  chance  be  his  downfall  ?

*   𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍                          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒  .

has  always  taken  very  good  care  of  himself  in  the  sense  of   what  he  puts  into  his  body  ,  even  in  college  he  paid  important  attention  to  diet  and  exercise  .  

doesn’t  speak  of  his  mother  ,  or  at  least  he  didn’t  .  you  asked  a  question  and  got  silence  in  return  .  most  never  actually  knew  what  the  first  seven  years  of  his  life  was  ,  which  left  many  in  shock  when  he  finally  decided  to  open  up  about  it  .

he  doesn’t  like  nicknames  and  prefers  to  be  called  just  alistair  ,  though  some  people  do  get  a  pass  ,  even  if  that  pass  comes  with  a  hard  look  .

his  drink  of  choice  is  bourbon  but  he  hasn’t  been  a  bigger  drinker  since  his  college  days  ...  his  friends  would  joke  it’s  because  he  overdid  it  too  many  times  in  his  younger  years  . 

*  𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓                          𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒  .

*   these  are  simply  just  ideas  to  give  us  something  to  start  with  ,  i  am  open  to  anything  that  is  not  mentioned  as  well  am  completely  and  totally  okay  with  switching  things  around  and  adding  things  to  these  ideas !!!  i  love  plotting  and  bouncing ideas  off  of  each  other  so  don’t  be  afraid  to  stray !

                    YOU’RE  BAD  FOR  MY  HEALTH  ,  YEAH  YOU  SHOULD  HURT  SOMEBODY  ELSE  (  PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN    )  .    he  was  bad  for  their  health    ,   a  rollercoaster  that  consisted  of  too  many  downs  .  toxic  ?  yes  .  in  love  ?  in  denial  .  but  whatever  was  between  these  two  ,  it  kept  them  at  each  others  throats  and  in  each  other  bed  .   this  was  not  the  one  who  got  away  ,  it  was  the  one  he  needed  to  stay  away  from  . 

                   WILL  HE  ALWAYS  BE  MINE  ?   ( PRESENT  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   ) .    his  first  adult  relationship  ,  and  like  alistair  himself  it  was  not  always  easy  .  long  nights  ,  busy  days  ,  sometimes  this  relationship  felt  like  it  was  set  up  to  fail  ..  and  then  they  got  their  moments  where  butterflies  flapped  their  wings  and  rose  spreaded  to  cheeks  and  it  really  seemed  like  it  would  work  ...  but   good  moments  ,  they  come  and  go  and  this  relationship  leaves  the  other  thinking  how  long  they  might  have  alistair  . 

                  I  GOT  A  BAD  IDEA  ( PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   ) .    he  looked  to  his  left  and  saw  them  ,  and  when  he   looked  in  front  of  him  he  saw  the  bars  and  regrets  forming  .   these  two  were  a  duo  that  wreaked  havoc   ,  being  around  them  meant  cop  sirens  and  bad  decisions  .  these  two  were  ,  what  do  they  say  ?  young  and  dumb  .

                  WHOLE  SQUAD  MOBBIN  EVEN  THOUGH  WE  ONLY  SIX  DEEP  ( PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   ) .    his  best  buddies  (  that  i  manage  are  still  apart  of  his  life  in  present  time  )  made  up  of  two  to  three  others  .  they  are  his  people  ,  his  picked  family  .   

                I  SWEAR  IF  I  EVER  LEFT  YOU  IN  THE  COLD  ,  IT’S  CAUSE  IT  WAS  COLDER  INSIDE   (  PRESENT  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   )  .   a  old  friend  who’s  no  longer  that  ,  a  friend  .  i  picture  this  to  be  more  complicated  then  what  it  seems  ,  but  picture  these  two  going  from  being  attached  at  the  hip  to  not  speaking  to  one  another  .

                  CAN  YOU  IMAGINE  ?   ( PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   ) .    that  one  person  who  badly  wanted  something  more  from  alistair  and  got  exactly  the  opposite  .   lovers  in  the  way  of  intimacy  but  one  sided  emotionally  .  

[afni-fics]

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn: Chapter 29: Leaving Whiterun - Magic and Bandits

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn: Chapter 29: Leaving Whiterun - Magic and Bandits (38503 words) by C_R_Scott Chapters: 28/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics), Batman (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Modded Skyrim, Skyrim Spoilers, Tim Drake is Dragonborn | Dovahkiin, Tim Drake-centric, Trope: It sucks to be the chosen one, Trope: Trapped in another world, Trope: Kidnapped by the Call

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Summary:

Tim and Lucien finally set out from Whiterun towards the town of Ivarstead, on their way to visit the Greybeards of High Hrothgar. Along they way that morning, there is learning about magic and dealing with bandits.

The sun was just cresting over the horizon as Tim and Lucien made their way past the outer walls of Whiterun. Despite himself, Tim paused as they reached the stables to look back at the city, trying to commit what he saw to memory. Who knew when, if ever, he'd return to this place? He may not be very fond of the leadership of this place, but the citizens he'd interacted with seemed to be good, generous, hardworking people. If it wasn't for them, especially Irileth and Danica, he'd probably be dead.

"What do you mean, you can't take us to Iverstead?"

Tim turned his attention to the conversation taking place between Lucien and the carriage driver.

"Is something wrong?" he asked as he walked up to the pair.

Lucien sighed. "Apparently this carriage has already been commandeered by Honningbrew Meadery to take a large shipment of mead up to Windhelm, so we can't hire him to take us to Ivarstead."

"I'm sorry," the Nordic man said regretfully. "If I were to take you Ivarstead, it would delay my shipment to Windhelm by a couple of days, and transporting this quantity of mead is riskier the longer I'm on the road due to the bandits."

"Hmmm," Tim murmured as he pulled out his map and studied the space between Whiterun, Ivarstead, and Windhelm. "Well, could you at least take us halfway?" he asked as he showed the map to the carriage man and Lucien. "Just take us to where the road forks off here." He shrugged at Lucien. "We'll have to make the rest of the trip to Ivarstead on foot, but at least we're not walking the entire way."

"That shouldn't be a problem," the Nord said with an agreeable nod. "and I'll only charge you half the usual fee since I'm only taking you halfway."

Lucien sighed again. "I suppose it can't be helped. At least we can follow the river to the town from there and don't have to worry about getting lost in the wilderness." He regarded the map critically. "We may have to camp for a couple of nights though. Do we have the supplies for that?"

Tim nodded. "Hope for the best, prepare for the worst," he replied. "I got enough supplies I think we'll be ok for a straight week of camping. Especially if we follow the river, we won't have to worry about water, and we can hunt or fish for food if rations get low."

"Salmon are starting to make their migration runs to their spawning grounds this time of year," the carriage man offered. He inclined his head toward Tim's bow. "If you've got decent aim with that, catching fish with it won't be a problem along the Darkwater River. You will have to be careful of bears, though. Also, make sure you have a strong line tied to the arrow shaft when fishing. Because of the spring melt off from the mountains, the rivers are running deeper and faster and will send your catch downriver before you can blink."

"Alright," Tim said with as he folded his map back up. "We've got a plan. How soon can we leave?" 

"As soon as you fellas hop into the cart, we can be off."

The carriage driver's name is Bjorlam, and for the first part of the morning the ride is pleasant enough. Riding on the cart is definitely faster than walking the path on foot, but still slower than Tim is used to back on Earth, which is frustrating. He wished they could afford to purchase horses so they could travel at a faster pace. However, the stables back at Whiterun wouldn't sell for anything less than one thousand Septims apiece. So for the first hour that morning, Tim sat brooding as he watched the landscape pass by.

At least until Lucien pulls out a book and taps Tim's knee with it.

"What's this?" Tim asks as he takes the thin book and examines the cover. The leather is dyed yellow and has what appears to a bird symbol stitched on the front.

"It's a book on novice Restoration spells," Lucien explained.

Tim looked at Lucien with surprise. "You want to start teaching me magic now?"

"Why not? Didn't I say back in Whiterun that I was going to teach you? Besides, we've got scads of time to kill."

Tim's heartbeat quickened a bit and any boredom and frustration he had been entertaining was immediately forgotten. He listened intently as Lucien started to explain basic spell theory and Magicka.

It was a few hours past sunrise and while Tim had no problem absorbing the more technical explanations of spellcasting that came from the book and Lucien's own clarifications, actually tapping into Tim's own pool of Magicka in order to bring the basic healing spell into existence had been a far greater challenge. Lucien was starting to be concerned that perhaps Tim just didn't have access to Magicka, being from another world and all. It had been frustrating for the both of them. For Lucien, accessing Magicka was something innate and natural, like breathing or blinking. He never had to try and explain "how" to tap into it to someone who was completely unaware of its existence until recently. Mentally, the scholar likened it to trying to teach a fish how to drink water while they were swimming in a pond.

Then, the young man had suggested something that Lucien had never heard of before.

"What is 'meditation'?"

Tim had shifted to sit on the floor of the cart, so he could adjust his posture into a cross-legged seated position that Lucien found curious. "It's a little hard to explain," he said with a slight frown. "It's a kind of mental training... Limiting distractions... Focusing inward... Maybe... If I can just clear my mind and adjust my awareness I can find this Magicka pool you say I should have?"

So Lucien watched as Tim adjusted his hands into very specific poses before resting them on his knees, closed his eyes, and breathed in and out with slow measured breaths. He watched as Tim's face relaxed into an expression of quiet concentration. After a bit, Lucien wondered if perhaps Tim had fallen asleep, but the fact that the young man kept his posture intact, even to the precise position of the tips of his thumbs resting against the tips of his ring and pinky fingers while his other two fingers were extended reassured the scholar that more than just slumber was taking place.

For about an hour, it was quiet and peaceful in the cart. While Tim meditated, Lucien had pulled out a different Restoration spellbook to study, this one containing Apprentice level healing spells. Healing Hands was a slightly more complex spell since it was used to heal other people, not just the caster, but it was not beyond Lucien's grasp as a mage. However, out of the corner of his eyes, a movement broke his own concentration. 

Timothy's posture had changed. While his left hand was still resting on his knee, his right hand was slowly rising upward and towards his chest, fingers still held in the same position though his first two fingers were now pointing upward. His eyes were still closed, though his brows were furrowed slightly. Then his right hand shifted. His ring and pinky fingers stretched to join their brothers, and then his hand went through a motion as if scooping something gently from the air in front of him, curling his fingers around something intangible. Lucien's eyes widened as slender tendrils of light began to swirl around Tim's hand. Then, when Tim opened his hand, those tendrils coalesced into a small glowing sphere of golden light.

"Oh my..." Lucien whispered as a smile formed on his lips. "You did it!"

Slowly, Tim's eyes opened. His gaze seemed distant at first, but soon he focused wide-eyed at the golden spell cradled in his right hand.

"Wow," Tim breathed out in awe. "It's like holding a star." He brought his other hand up and brushed his fingertips along the outer edges of the spell, watching as small embers of light broke off from the main sphere to chase after them.

"So, you can access your Magicka now?"

Tim nodded. "I think so. It's... different. Definitely not intuitive like you describe it. It's kinda like flexing a muscle I never knew I had. I have to make a conscious effort to tap this... energy." 

He furrowed his brow in concentration again and actively channeled energy into the spell. Larger golden tendrils of light swirled around him for a few seconds, and he could feel a comforting warmth coursing through his veins. But before too long those tendrils disappeared and the light of the spell in Tim's hand winked out suddenly. He winced as a slight headache twinged behind his eyes.

"Ow..."

Lucien watched this with great curiosity, wincing along with him in sympathy as he immediately recognized the sign of Tim expending all the Magicka at his disposal. "Interesting... It appears your Magicka pool might be quite small at this point even compared to novice mages just starting out." He fidgeted thoughtfully with his beard. "I wonder if the reason your pool is smaller than normal is because you aren't from this world to begin with?"

"That might make sense," Tim said as he tried to massage away the remains of the headache. "Theoretically, if Magicka is something heavily present in the environment here, like in the air you breathe or the food and water you eat, native people would be passively absorbing Magicka since the day they were born. Since I'm not from here, I've only been taking in Magicka for a few weeks at most, so I'm starting at a disadvantage." Tim couldn't help the edge of disappointment to his voice.

Lucien smiled reassuringly at him, though. "Well, fortunately with time and practice, that shouldn't be the case for long. It's a known phenomenon that the more spells a mage learns and practices the larger their natural pool of Magicka grows. There are also potions and enchantments that can be used to artificially boost a mage's mana pool as well."

Tim smiled a little. "So it is like exercising a muscle. That's good to know." 

"Indeed," Lucien agreed with a nod. "Let's have you rest for a bit, and then you can check your Magicka pool to see if there's enough to practice with later."

The sun was halfway across the sky when unexpectedly their carriage came to a halt.

"Damn it," the carriage driver cursed.

"What's going on, Bjorlam?" Lucien asked.

The Nord shook his head. "The damned bandits are still occupying the Valtheim Towers," he spat out in frustration as he pointed to the two stone towers coming up ahead with a bridge that spanned the river. "Last time I came by here, the bandits demanded a one hundred Septim 'toll' for me to pass without getting mugged. I'd hoped by now Whiterun's guards would've run these bastards off, but I guess they haven't made it this far east yet. The moment those thieves see all the mead I have, they'll demand that along with the Septims." Bjorlam sighed. "I'm sorry fellas, but I think I might not have a choice but to turn back to Whiterun to fetch the guards or hire one or two of the Companions."

"What?" Lucien squawked. "No! We can't go back now! It took half a day just to get this far!"

As Lucien argued with Bjorlam, Tim was peering at the towers and bridge between them. "One... Four... Six..." He squinted "Maybe seven?"

At that, Lucien and Bjorlam had stopped arguing and had turned their attention onto him, the carriage driver with confusion and the scholar with a frown. 

"Seven what?" Lucien asked Tim suspiciously.

"Bandits, of course," Tim replied as he checked to make sure he had some potions in his belt pouches and added a few metal throwing stars he'd had the blacksmith in Whiterun make for him before they left the city to a simple leather holster that was strapped to his right thigh.

"Wait... You're not going to--"

Tim had grabbed his new metal quarterstaff and hopped off the back of the cart. "I needed to stretch my legs anyways. Might as well clear out the garbage while I'm at it." He looked to other two men. "Why don't you both stay here? I'll wave you over once I've cleared them out."

Bjorlam looked at him like he was crazy, and Lucien's expression was laced with concern. "Are you sure, Tim? I can come along to help."

Tim shook his head. "I feel better than I have in months and honestly I need to figure out where my baseline is now that I'm healthy. This is the perfect chance."

"Your baseline?"

Tim's smiled in a coy way before he started making his way to the Towers on foot. 

Ten minutes later, Lucien and Bjorlam were watching with amazement as commotion erupted at the Tower. Tim had quickly taken out the three bandits that had been guarding the first tower and was now making his way across the bridge towards the second. Though some of the bandits in the other tower tried to snipe him with arrows from the other side, Tim managed to either deflect those arrows with spins from his quarterstaff or dodged them with effortless grace even as he attacked the two bandits that were in the middle of the bridge. The bandits on the bridge seemed utterly outclassed, and frankly Tim seemed to be toying with them before he sent them flying down to the waters of the river below with a few well placed blows and kicks. The moment he was close enough to the second tower, the young man sent two of his new throwing stars flying at the remaining bandits. One bandit got tagged by the sharp metal star on the back of his hand and howled in pain before he could send another arrow flying. The other had the string to his bow sliced through, rendering it absolutely useless. They both stared at Tim warily.

"Okay fellas! This is going to end one of two ways!" Tim yelled at them warningly. "Either you two take a dive--" he pointed to the river with his staff. "--Or I am coming over there to beat you down and throw you in! Either way, you're both going for swims. Which is it going to be?!"

One of the bandits decided to take his chances. They pulled a sword out and tried to rush Tim while he was still on the bridge. Unfortunately for then, Tim could see the attack coming a mile away and the smile that lit up his face was practically feral. "The fun way it is then," he muttered as he held his staff in a ready position.

He let the bandit get close enough to try and get a swing on him. Unfortunately for the bandit, Tim's reach and momentum with the metal staff was far greater than the sword. Tim met the bandit's sword with a downward swing of his staff. The sword was immediately parried with enough force to disarm the attacker completely and the unfortunate bandit found the end of Tim's staff was aimed squarely at his face. A quick thrust forward was all it took for Tim to knock the man off balance, and a flashy flying tornado kick sent the bandit completely off the bridge before he even realized what was going on. 

Once that bandit was in the river, Tim looked pointedly at the last one standing. Wisely, the final bandit decided to take the dive himself.

As soon as Tim was certain the towers were cleared, he stood there on the bridge in a bit of a daze. That fight was child's play compared to what he used to deal with back in Gotham. The bandits were clearly not skilled fighters, firearms were not a threat he had to worry about in this place, and bad luck for them he was completely healthy to boot. All in all it was a pretty fun exercise for him. 

But still... something about that fight and its aftermath felt odd to him, like something more was out of place or forgotten. He didn't realize it until he lifted a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. Then the thought struck him out of the blue, and he froze. 

He wasn't wearing a mask.

Here he was in this strange world. He was fighting with all the skills and strengths he had developed as a child soldier of Gotham, first as Robin, then Red Robin. 

However, Timothy Drake-Wayne wasn't supposed to be a fighter. He name and face was that of a teenager from a wealthy set of families. A child of privilege and influence. Tapped to lead the family business, even ahead of his older adopted siblings and the younger biological son of his father. His civilian identity was supposed to be a separate person from his vigilante one. Never were the two supposed to intersect.

And yet, at an intersection is where he found himself. Tim's civilian name and face had collided with his vigilante identity, strengths and skills. Even if he had a mask to wear, there was no real reason to do so here. But he still had to fight, both to survive and to safeguard those under his protection in the moment, he realized as he watched the carriage with Lucien approach the towers.

And on top of that he was now learning magic as well as trying to find answers to this whole Dragonborn mystery that was swirling around him. 

Who was he now?

"That was amazing to behold!" the carriage man said as Tim emerged from the first tower, a satchel full of recovered valuables from the bandits stash slung over his shoulder. "The way you took out all those bandits, just on your own! I've never seen anyone fight like that before!" 

The Nord's smile grew even wider as Tim handed him a bag of Septims. "There's probably a bit more than a hundred Septims here, but you don't mind, right?" Tim smiled and graciously accepted Bjorlam's profuse thanks.

"Are you alright?" Lucien asked Tim made his way to the back of the cart.

Tim nodded. "Yeah. I think so." He hopped in and settled in before Bjorlam set the cart in motion again.

"While it was amazing to see you fighting in peak condition, I couldn't help but notice you seem a little troubled after it was all said and done," Lucien observed. "Did something happen at the towers we weren't able to see?"

"No," Tim said with a dismissive shrug. "Just thought of a question I don't have any answers to yet."

"Anything I can help with?"

Tim smiled and deflected. "Actually, I think I banged up my knuckles a bit on those bandits. Might be the perfect chance to practice that healing spell. Can you show me again how to cast it?"

Lucien shook his head with a sigh. "Sure. Let's take it from top."

NOTE: Though Tim has a lot of hand-to-hand combat experience, the longer he stays in Skyrim the more I see him taking up magic as his primary go-to for offense and defense. While growing up in Gotham he wasn't the best student and even dropped out of high school due to his vigilante lifestyle, here in Skyrim the study of magic is something he can dive into whole-heartedly. The subject matter is fascinating and the practical applications both in combat and even daily life are nearly endless. I don't see him ever going full blow magic-only. Sometimes, you just need to hit something with a blunt/sharp weapon or a clenched fist, and I don't see Tim ever really giving up the protection of at least a suit or several of light armor for cloth robes, no matter how enchanted they are.

I'm also using the mod "Carriage and Ferry Travel Overhaul" (https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/8379) that allows my characters to hire a carriage that actually transports them overland from one destination to another, and allows for stopping and starting inbetween those locations. I'm trying not to use the Fast Travel function unless absolutely necessary so that I can include more opportunities for role-play as my characters are journeying.

Finally, I am also using a pair of mods in conjunction that allow for the use of throwing weapons (specifically in this case throwing stars - because Red Robin): Throwing Weapons Skills & Perks Tree (https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/39499) and True Spear Combat (https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim/mods/78347?) which adds the throwing starts among other weapons you can throw. This same mod author also made the Spears Skills and Perks Tree I'm using for Tim's quarterstaff fighting (https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim/mods/99303?).

#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#afewnovelideas

[hoffkk]

Done Wasting Time

A Brightwell Fanfic

Story By: @hoffkk

Prompt: Gimme a question to start, and I’ll give you a brightwell fic that ends in a kiss!

Question given: Do you want to get out of here?

Summary:  Malcolm is reminded by a recent case how unpredictable and short life can be. So, during a romantic walk through Central Park, he decides he's done wasting time and that forever starts now... or once Dani answers this one little question. Hopefully, Malcolm gets the answer he's looking for.

**********

“Do you want to get out of here?” Malcolm asked. It had been a long two days as they worked the murder of a bride killed the day before her wedding. The groom was gutted, going on about how he had wasted so much time, waiting to be promoted before proposing in order to give his love a better life and the wedding of her dreams. He had thought they had all the time in the world, except they didn’t. Malcolm found the whole thing completely tragic, and now that the case was solved, he was itching to get out of the precinct and spend some alone time with his own love. Dani and Malcolm had been dating a little over a year now, and every day was better than the last. Not to say, they didn’t have their issues. They had bad days along with the good ones, but they learned to lean on each other and talk out their feelings, especially after tough cases like this. So, when Dani said sure and suggested they take a walk through Central Park, he was happy to oblige. 

Entering Central Park West, the couple walked arm in arm, making their way aimlessly through the park toward Cherry Hill to admire the Cherry Blossom trees that were now in full bloom, signaling spring was officially here. The sun was beginning to set and the air was crisp and cool this evening, so there weren’t too many people ambling about. That made it much easier to relax and enjoy the multitude of pink and white flowers that surrounded them. Every so often a light breeze would sweep through, stirring the trees and giving off a sweet scent that smelled of lilacs mixed with vanilla.

Dani inhaled deeply and commented, “I love the park this time of year.”

“You know you said that this past winter and the fall before that.” Malcolm noted. 

“What can I say? Central Park is extraordinary in every season.” She shrugged. 

“There is something magical about it, isn't there?” He asked rhetorically, taking in the sounds of the birds chirping and how the sun's golden rays gleamed softly through the branches of the foliage around them, emphasizing the radiance of the woods that lined their path.

The conversation lulled as the couple walked on, enjoying the serenity of an evening walk. Eventually, they happened upon the Cherry Fountain, flowing with life and effervescent with excitement, then moseyed past it and down another pathway across the way that was lined with more cherry blossoms, azaleas, and forsythia. The latter was Dani’s favorite. She had a thing for yellow flowers. They could cheer up any person and brighten up any room like little pieces of handpicked sunshine. After a few more minutes, the couple found themselves at Bow Bridge, a brilliant piece of Grecian architecture made of cast iron. Every other bridge in the park was made of stone. This one was different.  Yet, somehow, it fit in and made sense in the middle of this great park. That’s why Malcolm loved it. He knew what it was like to be different, yet somehow fit... with both the team and with Dani. That’s why he made a point to visit this particular bridge every time he came to Central Park, and this time was no different as he walked Dani halfway across before stopping and taking in the view. Staring out across the lake, he noticed a single boat floating along, heading toward the city skyline that seemed to extend above the trees in the distance. The buildings were bathed in the glow of the sunset, a striking mixture of pinks, purples, oranges, and yellows swirling through the clouds. Malcolm raked his eyes over the scenic sight and sighed contentedly while Dani muttered, “It’s so beautiful.”

Turning to look at her, Malcolm took in the glimmer of the sun radiating against her bronze skin as a breeze lightly tousled her curls and replied, "Yeah, it is." Slowly, he moved his gaze back to the incredible view in front of him and proceeded to enjoy just how perfect this moment was. 

A few seconds later, Dani looked over at him and admired the blissful smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. She couldn’t help but blurt out curiously, “What are you thinking about?”

“The city.” Malcolm answered, still staring out into the distance. “There are 8.4 million people in this city, and somehow I found you.” On the last word, he turned to meet her eyes then finished, “That makes me feel pretty lucky.”

“I’m feeling pretty lucky too.” Dani replied then, after a moment, elaborated, “After all, you trusted me enough to let me in.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t always give me much of a choice.” He reminded teasingly.

“It’s called tough love, Bright.” She quipped. “And believe me, you needed it.”

“No. I needed you.” Malcolm corrected, face completely serious. “I still do, and I always will,” Then, taking a deep breath, he added, “which reminds me, I have something for you.”

“Really? What is it?” Dani asked curiously. 

Malcolm didn’t reply. Instead, he unlinked their arms to reach inside the front inner pocket of his jacket. Then, with a little flourish, he dropped to one knee and held out... a lollipop. 

“Really a lollipop?” She queried. Malcolm did always have a flair for the dramatic, but this seemed a bit much. Even for him. I mean, it was just a piece of candy. 

“Look again.” He said softly, the corners of his lips quirking upward once more.

Glancing back at the small sucker, she noticed it was a lemon lime Dum Dum. That made her think back to an old case of theirs where Malcolm gave her the same lollipop. It was the first gift he ever gave her and still sat on her desk at work. The memory made her smile. However, this one was different. There appeared to be a silver band around the wrapper. Then, as Malcolm slowly rotated the lollipop to reveal the other side, her smile fell.  Dani was stunned as her eyes zeroed in on a two carat, emerald cut diamond, twinkling in the light of the setting sun.

“Malcolm, what—“ 

Cutting her off, he shrugged and grinned nervously, “I’ve always been a sucker for you, Dani. I’ve even been sucker punched by you. That’s just how amazing you are. You comfort me like no one else can but also aren’t afraid to smack me back into reality when I need it. Most importantly, you taught me that being myself is okay. From the very beginning, you never judged me or mistreated me because of who my father is or because of the trauma I’ve been through. You’ve always believed in me, been proud of who I am, and given me the love and support that I needed, first as a friend, then as my girlfriend, and now, I hope, as my fiancée... because I love you, and I’m done wasting time. I want to love and support you in return, not just for now, but for the rest of my life. So, Daniella Aurora Powell, will you marry me?”

Dani, who stood there still looking a little awestruck, beamed back at him as she nodded enthusiastically, “Yes. Yes, I’ll-

Instead of letting her finish, Malcolm hastily rose to his feet and pulled her flush against him, kissing her more passionately than ever before. It was short lived though due to the distracting applause from the pedestrians that happened to be nearby. Pulling apart somewhat abruptly, they glanced around, and Dani couldn't help but giggle while Malcolm’s cheeks changed color to match the local flora. Distracting him from his embarrassment, she eagerly held out her hand. Understanding Dani's signal, Malcolm lifted the lolly and carefully slid the engagement ring off of the candy and onto her finger. A rush went through him as he stared down at Dani’s left hand, seeing the ring in place. Then, high on excitement and drunk on love, Malcolm kissed her again, this time much sweeter and a lot longer, relishing the feel of holding his fiancée in his arms.

After a long moment, Dani pulled back to catch her breath and let her hands rest on Malcolm's shoulders. Using one to delicately brush a stray hair out of his face, she took in his euphoric expression and said, “It’s nice seeing you this happy. It's a good look for you."

"Yeah, well, If I look as good as I feel, then I must look like the happiest man alive." He asserted. "and I don't see that changing anytime soon... or ever."

"I'm glad to hear that. After all, you know what they say," she retorted cheekily, "Happy life, happy wife."

Malcolm's heart fluttered at her last word. He loved the way that sounded. So much so, that rather than correcting her on how the expression actually goes, he implored softly, "Say it again."

"Say what?" Dani returned, having a little fun with him. "Happy? Life?"

"Dani," Malcolm warned then more tenderly added, "please?" followed by a gentle kiss to the side of her neck.

The contrast of his warm lips on her skin in place of the cool air that had been there a second ago, made Dani quietly pull a sharp intake of breath through her lungs. Then, quickly collecting herself and gazing back into his sparkling cerulean eyes, she whispered, "Wife. I can't wait to be your wife."

With that, the flutter became a whole field of butterflies roaming his chest who only flew more erratically as he stroked her cheek with his thumb and replied, "And I can't wait to be your husband."

Once more, they shared a warm smile before, once more, sharing a kiss, a lingering, toe-curling kind of kiss. Not wanting to make a scene in the park, Dani ended the kiss sooner than either of them would have liked. Then, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, she and her fiancé made their way to the nearest park exit, anxious to tell their friends and families the good news.

My Fiancé. My Husband. Dani thought to herself as she looked over at her hand that both wore the diamond ring and held tightly to the green lollipop. Then, shifting her glance to Malcolm who continued to exude joy with every step, she smirked. Yeah, she couldn't definitely get used to using those words. A lot.

[theungracefulgrace]

Twilight Short Story/ AU: The Time Emmett Saved Bella

Bella Swan was depressed. There’s no other way to say it. She was unconditionally and irrevocably depressed. Now, whether she had been before this colossal split in the normal course of her life occurred or whether it was a new problem, Bella wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure whether the symptoms had been present for longer than she realised or whether they had developed after this new way of living that she had become accustomed to. To be frank, she wasn’t sure of anything. Before it happened, Bella had a good grip on who she was; she knew that she was the daughter of a gruff police chief father and a flighty sun-loving mother, both of whom she loved deeply, she knew that was planning to go to the University of Alaska to study under the great science program the university boasted… but after the split in her life occurred, both literally and figuratively, she lost all grip on reality. It was like everyone around her was a bird in flight, and she had been shot out of the air and been allowed to fall to the rocky ground below, whilst the other birds flew on as if she were never really there at all.

Most people, especially those who had never experienced such a burden, described depression as a feeling of cold numbness, but Bella now knew differently. It wasn’t cold at all, though the word ‘numb’ was painfully apt; it felt like nothing at all. No cold, no warmth, no feeling whatsoever. She didn’t know how long it had been since he left, and she didn’t care to check either, because she knew that if she made herself remember that cold, solemn day, the pain and abandonment she had felt at that moment would come flooding back, and she thought that that was worse than feeling nothing. Even to suffer was better than to be empty, Bella concluded, so she let herself float in the purgatory of the days that passed without much of a second thought. It was September when he left, though; she remembered that much only because she remembered the catastrophic events of her eighteenth birthday, which was September 13th, and the way Edward had looked at her that evening in the forest a week later, right before he disappeared from her life. But not, as it seemed, from her heart or mind, which were both still heavy from the impact he’d had on her.

Yes, that was true. Edward Cullen, who had shaped and changed Bella in a way that she never thought possible, had left her alone, all due to his paranoia and his excessively egotistical saviour complex. He had been so set on the idea that him leaving was for Bella’s own good, that him picking up and leaving Forks would somehow help to save Bella’s life, that he didn’t once consider the extreme heartbreak and agony that Bella would feel solely by him not being there for her anymore. She didn’t think any of this, mind you; she was not yet ready to feel anger, not yet at the place where she thought that anything besides staying right where she was and letting the dark sadness overwhelm her would do any good, but those thoughts were there nevertheless, lingering in the back of her mind like a wasp buzzing away in the corner of her room. She remembered feeling angry on the day he left, confused at why he thought to leave without her would be a good solution, terrified of what she would be without him… but not now. She felt nothing from the outside world, no matter how hard it tried to break through her walls of ice, and had no plans to break herself out anytime soon. With each email that she sent to Alice’s email address that was cancelled due to the address now being invalid, her mind splintered more and more. She was depressed, and it was killing her, little by little.

The months came and went like the leaves that fell from the trees outside her window. She barely ate, so her body had stretched itself to a point of dangerous autopilot-like functioning to try and retain any form of muscle that it could; she was a slim girl beforehand, she had been for her entire life thanks to her mother’s obsessive health phases that bordered on symptoms of serious diagnosis-worthy health anxiety, but eating less than her body was able to function normally on had tightened the pale, sallow skin around her jaw and cheekbones and had made her hair thin and brittle. Her stomach ached for food, for any form of sustenance, but Bella had long since learned to ignore the pangs of hunger, so she almost didn’t seem to notice that she was living in constant pain and exhaustion from the lack of nutrients she was receiving. Her eyes were constantly ringed by dark circles, despite the fact that she slept for the majority of the day, and were no longer the warm and soft brown they had always been; now, only the faintest signs of life could be seen in them, and on the rare times that she made eye contact with Charlie, her father’s heart broke a little more whenever he saw how much his daughter was slipping away from him. 

She still went to school, but this was a falsely hopeful pretence, because from the way that Bella was walking around the halls, zombified, and sitting on the now-empty Cullen table in the canteen, it was a wonder she was even passing her classes at all. All she seemed to do now was sleep, cry and scream her way through endless nightmares until she woke, trudge her way to school and back, cry some more, and go back to sleep when she’d had enough of being awake for that day. It was a feeling that Bella was not used to, but what could she do to stop herself? Plaster a fake smile on her face each morning and tell her father that her ‘difficult times’ were over, even though she’d be lying through her teeth? Get up and act like nothing had happened, like everyone else in Forks had apparently done? No way. Depression weighed down on Bella like a backpack full of rocks, and everything (and everyone) seemed to pass her by as if she were just another person on the street.

But of course, to the rest of the world, she was just that; another teenager on the street, albeit a broken-up-with teenager with not much light in her life. No-one else knew the depth of Bella’s feelings for the Cullens; kind Carlisle and motherly Esme with their saint’s hearts and their gentle embraces, sweet Alice and pensive Jasper with their honest words and their clever minds, goofy Emmett with his big-brotherly protectiveness and understanding nature, her perfect angel Edward and his tender kisses… even beautiful Rosalie with her sharp comments and venomous glares. Bella had such an intense desire to be around them all, even for just a moment at a time, she missed them so much and was so sure that she belonged with them… then Edward ripped her away from their lives as harshly as pulling a loose thread from a shirt, and suddenly she had no-one. Her disproportionately-human friends, like Jessica and Mike and Angela, couldn’t fill the hole the Cullens left in her heart. 

Even Jacob Black, her best friend in the world, hadn’t called on her recently, but she knew he was worried about the state she was in. But what hurt the most was that she simply didn’t understand. She didn’t see why Edward had left or why he thought she would be safer alone- her recent adrenaline-fuelled motorbike ride with a random biker in Port Angeles had proved that danger only brought her closer to Edward. She had discovered that whenever she did some impulsive, or reckless, a word that Edward had used in his own leaving speech, hallucinations of Edward plagued her until she was safe again. It had scared her immensely at first- having not seen him for months and then seeing him, all too realistic in image, right in front of her- but after some thought, she wondered why Edward had thought her safer alone. Surely if he were still here, she wouldn’t feel the need to go searching for danger just for the chance to glimpse his golden eyes for barely a second? She was confused, left without clarification and without the answers to the questions buzzing in her mind, and that stung.

That day in Port Angeles was a strange, uncomfortable one. It had occurred because Bella had finally seen a sliver of light through the dark cloud of her depression and had decided one day to try and speak to someone. Just one person, she thought. Just one human being who understood her post-break-up despair, without needing the deep and personal details of said break-up, who might be able to bring Bella back into the living again (literally), and she found that in Jessica Stanley.

Now, don’t be mistaken, Bella didn’t just wake up one day and decide to not be depressed anymore, and if anyone actually believed that, they were in serious need of a reality check. It took a long time for Bella to feel more like herself again; she was still deeply depressed and in need of psychological support, but at least she was able to walk and talk again. It started with her trying to eat a little more at lunch, choosing an apple instead of her usual meal of whatever she found at the bottom of her bag, then she started to spend her time sitting outside in the watery January sunlight instead of in her dark bedroom, and then the most terrifying of all- getting the courage to speak to her friends again. She knew exactly who she needed to call.

“Jacob?” Bella croaked down the phone. The three waiting tones that it took for Jacob to answer her call felt like an eternity after not having spoken properly to anyone in months. She had even briefly considered the possibility that she had developed mutism, but the possibility was lowered when she found the strength to say his name.

“Bells? Oh, Christ, I’m so glad that you called. I was so worried. Bells, talk to me, are you alright?”

“Jake,” She whispered, knowing he would be able to hear her, “Help me. I need help. I need you, Jake.”

“I know. I’m right here, Bells, don’t you dare worry about me going anywhere. I’ll be at your house in ten.”

True to his word, Jacob was practically bursting through the front door ten minutes later. Charlie let him in and pointed to Bella’s room, and Jacob took the stairs two at a time, managing to make it to her door in less than five seconds. She seemed to sense that he was there, because he didn’t even have to knock for Bella to uncurl herself from her bed and tug her door open, brushing the dust from her sweatpants and adjusting her oversized t-shirt as she went. Jacob could have sworn that he felt his heart burst from relief as she opened the door; part of him wondered if she really had called him at all, or whether it was just a phantom-like memory of the times that she did used to call him. The joy he felt from simply seeing her face was more than enough to reassure him.

“Bells…” Jacob could barely remember a word besides her name, and he closed her bedroom door behind him so they could have a moment to themselves.

“Hey, Jake,” Bella said, her voice hoarse and broken, with a half-hearted smile.

No other words were said in that moment, but none were needed. Everything that they could possibly want to say was contained in the silence that hung between them. He simply wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close to his warm chest and letting his body temperature warm her cold body, while Bella’s arms rested against him weakly as she broke down in front of him. At some point Jacob helped her back into bed, but instead of letting her lay there alone, he stayed right beside her, his back against the headboard, and pulled her against him so she would have someone to hold her while she cried. She felt guilty for staining his t-shirt with her tears and overwhelmed from the realisation of how lonely she had been before, but his hands gently rubbing her arms and his lips pressed against her hair took each one of those fears and smoothed them out until they were practically non-existent. From that moment on, Jacob visited Bella every day, and helped to bring her back out of her shell; whether it was something that small as sitting with her and talking to her about whatever she wanted, or something more energetic like going out for a walk or going to see a movie, Bella was deeply grateful for every bit of care and affection that Jake showed her, and they became even closer friends than they were before.

Four and a half months later, Jacob suddenly started to refuse any of Bella’s calls and asked her not to come to his house anymore. Billy, Jacob’s father, insisted that Jacob had mono, but Bella could tell that something else was going on. It wasn’t until two weeks later that Bella learned what had happened to her best friend- Jacob Black was a werewolf, and was avoiding Bella for her own safety, despite her protests that this was exactly what Edward said to her, and look where that got her. This sent Bella even further into the depression she’d tried so hard to climb out of, and a whole new wave of abandonment and loneliness crashed over her. On a walk one afternoon, Bella was approached by Laurent, the honey-voiced French vampire with satiny cocoa-brown skin that Bella had met at the ill-fated baseball game with the Cullens, that Victoria had returned to kill her, out of revenge for Edward killing Victoria's mate, James. This terrified Bella more than anything, and despite Jacob’s eventual reassurance of her safety, she became even more reclusive and Charlie was seriously considering calling Renée.

Then, one morning after that meeting with Laurent, Bella heard a knock at her front door that she wasn’t expecting. Jacob wasn’t coming over, Charlie was already home from work, she hadn’t called Angela or Jess… so who the hell was at her front door? She sluggishly made her way down the stairs, feet dragging on the old carpet as she went, and almost felt her knees give way beneath her when she saw a broad-shouldered figure looming behind the closed front door. Charlie, already in cop-mode, lingered by the living room doorway with his hand on the handle of his gun, but Bella shook her head at him, hoping to God that her hunch was right. Please, God, let it be right…

Bella took a deep breath, steadied herself for what lay in store for her when she opened the door, and ignored how hard her hand was shaking when she reached out for the doorknob. She pulled open the door slowly, the hinges creaking at how timidly Bella was opening the door, and she barely got it a fraction open before her knees buckled at the sight of Emmett Cullen standing there.

“Woah, woah, okay, it’s okay,” said Emmett from the porch, his hands reaching out at typical lightning speed to catch her before her head hit the floor, “It’s alright, Bella. Just breathe.”

“Emmett? What the hell… why the hell…”

“Well, it’s nice to see you too, little sister,” Emmett grinned, lifting her into his arms as though she was a tiny child and not a grown woman. He stepped through her doorway and kicked the door shut, much to the confusion and slight fear on Charlie’s face, “Oh, you must be her dad. Hey, the name’s Emmett. I’m Carlisle’s son… well, one of them, anyway.”

“Uh-huh…” Charlie stuttered, looking up at Emmett’s overbearing height and muscular arms, “You know Bella, then?”

“Yup,” Emmett said, holding an astonished Bella close so she could wake herself up with the cold of his skin, “Don’t worry, I’m not here to be an ass like my dick of a little brother. Edward can suck an egg, honestly. I’m just here to check on Bells.”

“Oh… kay…”

“Dad, he’s fine,” Bella insisted from Emmett’s arms, her eyes begging Charlie to just let this one slide. Charlie huffed in the way he always did when he knew that Bella was in the right about something he was unsure about, and suddenly his expression shifted from that of a concerned parent to an angry and defensive cop, his eyes zeroed right in on Emmett. Though Bella knew that this was unknown to Charlie, it was almost comical to see Charlie giving ‘the look’ to a ninety-four year-old, quixotically muscled, grizzly bear-tackling vampire, and she had to bite down on her lip to hold back a little laugh.

“I’m going to let you stay to keep Bella company,” Charlie said gruffly, gesturing to Emmett with the tip of his gun, “But if I see so much as a tear fall from her, you’re going to get the same treatment as the kid who broke my daughter’s heart will get when he shows his damn face here again. I don’t care what Dr. Cullen says. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Emmett said, genuinely meaning it. He may have been a cocky little son of a bitch, but he was a still a man from the time of good manners and respect for your elders. He showed his 1900s manners a little less overtly than his Chicago-born formal-gentleman brother Edward, but they were still there, and they still showed themselves every now and then.

Charlie seemed taken aback by Emmett’s respectful words- and for good reason, I suppose you could argue, since the almost gravitational presence of Emmett was contradictory to the image of a gentleman. However, the severity of his glare didn’t cease for very long; with a wave of his hand and a low mutter, Charlie turned and left Bella alone with Emmett, giving them a proper chance to talk.

“Okay-”

Emmett cut Bella off with a shake of his head, and Bella, having got used to Edward’s mannerisms, quietened at the understanding that Charlie was still within earshot, and waited for Emmett to relax before she continued speaking.

“Um, Emmett?”

“Yeah?”

“You can put me down now.”

Emmett smirked. “You sure you’re not going to faint on me again? I mean, I know I’m a sight for sore eyes, but I thought you’d be able to at least stand up by yourself.”

Bella rolled her eyes so hard that Emmett could practically hear the movement. He guffawed, the sound rippling through his chest, and set her down carefully on her feet again, making sure she was steady before letting her go. “Sorry, Bella. I’ve gotta admit, though, I missed you blushing whenever I said somethin’ like that.”

“Emmett, as much as I appreciate the surprise visit, what’re you doing here?” Bella said, her mind starting to whir with the stream of thoughts that whip around her mind. “Is it just you? Are the others okay? Is he-”

“Okay, okay,” Emmett laughed again, crossing his arms over his broad chest and looking down at Bella from his towering height, “Chill out, Bell, seriously. Yes, it’s just me, yes, the others are okay, and as for Edward… well, to be honest, I don’t actually know what the hell he’s doing. Alice knows, I think, and maybe Rose, but neither of them will tell anyone. I think they’re worried that he’s a flight risk. Speaking of people who might be flight risks, do you want to tell me why the hell you’ve been moping around here instead of living your damn life?”

“Emmett-”

“No, Bella, listen. You need to stop this. You’re worrying Charlie, you’re worrying your mom, and you’re worrying Alice. You know what she’s like, and for someone so tiny, she’s so freakin’ irritating when she’s normal, let alone when she’s worried, especially when she’s worried about you. So, I’ll ask again. What the hell is going on?”

Bella had never seen Emmett so serious and accusing before. No, not accusing, just… uneasy. He was acting like someone had died, which freaked Bella out a lot, because she only ever saw him as the impish, careless big brother in the family dynamic of the Cullens. Edward, he was serious a lot of the time, and Jasper too, and usually Carlisle… but never Emmett. That had to mean something was seriously wrong. And it was, of course, because Bella had been seriously off-balance (more than usual, which was surprising, given her god-awful equilibrium) for many months now.

“Emmett, please, just… you have to understand,” Bella pleaded, her desperate voice pulling at Emmett’s hardened nerves of steel like a child’s hand on the string of a balloon, “Ed-Edward didn’t give me an explanation when he left. He didn’t tell me why he was leaving or anything about what you all were going to. He left me without anything to go on. It was like… it was like he pushed me off a bridge without a bungee cord attached to me, y’know? I’ve been depressed, Emmett, so depressed that I had to resort to calling a damn werewolf to keep me company because my emails to Alice weren’t going through and you guys all left town like my mom did when I was a kid. You have to understand how much that killed me, Emmett. It, it… it still does. Every stupid day I wake up, expecting you all to be here, and you’re not. Every damn day.”

“Yeah, Alice mentioned the wolf thing,” Emmett smiled grimly. “And I do get that, Bella, I really do. I just… I don’t know. I thought that if I came back, you’d see that we were real, y’know? You’d see that we weren’t just some weirdos passing through. Edward loved you more than he’s ever loved any of us, and that’s saying something, because me and Jasper are the best fucking brothers he’d ever get.”

Bella smiled at Emmett’s reply, and her cheeks hurt despite how small the movement was. Emmett must have seen how difficult it was for her to move her muscles like that, and frowned. “Jeez, Bella, how long has it been since you made any other face that a sad face? Your face looks like plastic.”

“Wow, thanks, Emmett. Always there with the helpful comments, thank you.”

“There’s my Bella,” Emmett grinned, satisfied with Bella’s words, punching Bella’s shoulder but then instantly feeling guilty when he saw how much she recoiled in pain. “Oh, shit, sorry about that. I haven’t had to hold back my strength in a while, I forgot how easy your tiny little human body bruises.”

“It’s okay,” Bella said, letting her smile stretch wider across her face as the expression started to feel more natural, “I expected that sooner, to be honest. I missed you, Emmett.”

“Yeah, yeah. I missed you too, Swan. Alice does too, by the way. She keeps seeing you looking all sad and mopey. I told her that that was just you being normal, but somehow she didn’t believe me,” Emmett said, and Bella’s smile widened all the more at the mention of the smallest but arguably the most talented Cullen sibling, “Now, get your jacket, because we’re going somewhere.”

Bella raised her eyebrow, curious and a little afraid. “We are? Emmett, are you going to kidnap me?”

Now it was Emmett’s turn to roll his eyes. “Oh, Jesus, shut up. You realise your dad’s a cop? Don’t need him hating any more of us Cullens, that won’t look good to anybody.”

“Yes, but do you seriously think he’d be able to beat you in a fight anyway? You’d flatten him in seconds.”

“True. I am the best and strongest vampire who’s ever lived and every living thing should be terrified of my power. Now, seriously, get your freakin’ coat. We’re going to find some real fun.”

Over the next few weeks, Emmett continued to take Bella out for various outdoor adventures to help take her mind off the whole Edward situation. Whether it’s a hike or cliff-diving trip or just setting Bella in a tall tree so she could watch him mangle several bears for fun, Emmett was set on his new project- making Bella happy again. She didn’t say anything a lot of the time, just focused her energy on following whatever Emmett was getting her to do, because being in the forests of Forks often reminded her of the times she spent with Edward in the same clearings, especially in the meadow. However, Emmett managed to go the entire month without even touching the breeze surrounding said meadow, insisting that “fresh air is fresh air” and that she should just focus on being outside and the delight that he knew it brought her to see the cramped little town of Forks from way up on a mountain or from a tree top. It’s a generally standard outing every once in while for the pair, until one day, Emmett and Bella found themselves in a clearing just outside Tacoma, around three hours southeast of Forks, and it was on that day that Bella’s mindset was completely switched around. The flashback hit her like a truck, almost knocking the wind straight out of her, with how intense the feelings are; it’s like she can feel the branches tugging at her clothes, smell the scent of petrichor and pine trees around her, taste the drops of sweat that run down her face from running for hours through the woods. It might be almost five months later, but Bella might well have been standing alone in the forest in Forks opposite Edward Cullen on the day he left her.

To say that Bella snapped in that moment would be an understatement; she had spent so long in sadness and isolation that she’d forgotten the feeling of anger and rage. She screams and yells and rips the grass from beneath her feet, much to Emmett’s amusement.

“He fucking left me in the woods!” Bella cried out, turning to Emmett with a new sense of clarity, “HE FUCKING LEFT ME IN THE WOODS! ALL ALONE! I HAD A FUCKING PANIC ATTACK AND IT TOOK MY DAD FIVE HOURS TO FIND ME! HOW DID I NOT REALISE HOW ANGRY I AM?!”

Emmett was confused and a little bewildered, since this was the first time he was hearing about the exact details of Edward and Bella’s exchange on that day, but he was enthralled by this new version of the timid little Isabella Swan that he had grown accustomed to and was in no mind to stop her.

“FUCK YEAH HE DID,” Emmett yelled back, his laughter lightening the aggressive inflection of his words, “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH EDWARD, HUH?! HE’S SUCH A DRAMATIC LITTLE-”

“WHO FUCKING KNOWS,” Bella shouted, picking up a medium-sized rock and hurling it at a tree a few feet away from her, and she grinned excitedly at Emmett when she felt the satisfaction of her throw washing over her, “That was fun. I want to throw something else.”

“Now that I can get on board with,” Emmett hollered, picking up a much large rock and propelling it towards the horizon. Being a ridiculously-strong vampire and all, Emmett’s throw made the rock spiral through the air until it smacked against a distant tree, where it shattered into tiny pieces of rock debris, and Bella clapped enthusiastically.

“Teach me how to do that.”

And so, with Emmett’s assistance, Bella spent the next few hours throwing everything and anything she could find, pitching them as far into the clearing as she possibly could. With the most foul profanities and vicious insults she could think of spilling from her mouth, Bella realised how much more cathartic this was than sitting in her room feeling lower than rock-bottom. If she had to feel something, Emmett supposed in his head, then she might as well try and feel better about herself. Emmett was also thoroughly enjoying himself; not just because he loved to feed his almost-overpowering desire to act like a five-year-old in public, but also because he realised that this was the first time in months that he had been able to think his thoughts in private. With a sister like Alice (who received visions of the future) and a brother like Edward (who could read thoughts like they were written in front of him) and a generally empathetic family, he often felt as though his thoughts didn’t belong to him, and that everyone seemed to know his thoughts before he got the chance to speak them himself. Here, with Bella, he felt free. He knew that Bella knew him well, but even she, with her kind heart and sympathetic nature, couldn’t tell what he was thinking as often as Edward could. Here, his thoughts were his, and he became more and more grateful that he was able to keep his thoughts in his own mind- a privilege that he secretly envied in the minds of humans.

Through their throwing and yelling and demolishing, Bella and Emmett had managed to scalp almost the entire clearing of its trees and vegetation, and Bella felt weirdly proud of that. It had turned into a competition by the end of their outburst; partially for Bella to see quite how much strength she could muster solely from thinking about how pissed she was at Edward, but mostly to see whether Emmett could crack a tree by hurling a giant rock at it, which unsurprisingly, they found that he could. The past few weeks (and specifically that day in the clearing) had been an unprecedented bonding time for them, and whether Emmett knew it or not, he had done what no-one else had been able to do for Bella. He’d provided her with the space and the resources to express her true feelings and to regain her self-esteem, which was something that no amount of warm hugs from Jacob or movie nights with her girlfriends could give her. He had healed her, truly and fully, and Bella was forever thankful for Emmett during that time. Finally, after so much pain and suffering and loneliness, Bella was at peace again, and she had found that peace in quite possibly the most unlikely of places, but it was a place that was always open for her, as long as Bella and Emmett were living. And if you know how Bella’s story ends, forever was what they had.

[not-poignant]

Your thoughts on freaky Australian wildlife+sealife?

YES I LOVE IT.

I love it ALLLLLL.

Actually if you could see my bookshelves, there are so many like ‘frogs of Australia’ ‘mammals of Australia’ ‘birds of Australia’ ‘reptiles of Australia’ ‘insects of Australia’ ‘orchids of Australia’ etc. books. My house is basically a tiny Australian museum library when it comes to wildlife. I recently bought a book just on Australian Magpies by the CSIRO. It’s just like 150 pages on magpies. I’m SO HAPPY.

As for the things that can kill us, it’s funny you know, because all Australians seem to have this weird unspoken code to immediately tell strangers of all of the worst or freakiest stories we’ve ever had. Like ‘oh remember when we had that friend WHO DIED FROM A SNAKE IN THEIR BED’ or ‘REMEMBER WHEN we had that family member who got bitten by a redback and nearly DIED’ etc. Or ‘my friend got bitten by a shark’ etc. Everyone has those stories.

And it seems most Australians find strangers and immediately start talking about them. Idk what it is. Maybe we’re just that kid that really wants other people to find us cool? So we start collectively talking about really awful things while the other kids all back away with their hands up like ‘I...didn’t come here for this.’

I have those stories too. I’ve definitely been part of this bizarre trend. It’s like when you meet a Canadian and they just can’t resist telling you about their bear or raccoon or mountain lion encounters and then when you’re exclaiming in horror at bears, or protecting your bins, or how huge moose are or whatever, they then go ‘but haha it’s not like that all the time and we’re all used to it.’

The reality is that like...yes there are risks - as with any country (I’d prefer not to live in places where the main fear is guns and not fatal spiders though), but encountering them is minimal and you’re raised knowing the kinds of things to protect yourself without thinking about it. You shake your boots out before putting them not because you’re thinking ‘I’m gonna get bitten and I’m gonna die’ but because that’s just what you do. You stay on the path while bushwalking not because you think ‘shit there’s venomous snakes out there that could kill me in 1 hour with a bite’ but because that’s just what you do. It’s all very mundane and normal, and the world is built around that being easy to cooperate with.

Of course when you explain why we do these things to tourists, then they might start thinking ‘shit things are going to kill me.’ The irony is that if you just do those things - stay on the path, shake your boots out, and a few other things - well, no actually, you’re going to be fine. And if you’re staying in suburbia or the city, you’re going to be really fine.

I love our freaky wildlife. I love that we have birds (cassowaries), seashells (cone shells) and octopus (blue-ringed octopus) that are all lethal. I love that we have the weedy and leafy sea-dragons (not lethal, but weird), and like, many other strange things happening here. I love that we have trees that need to be smoked or set on fire to flower or fruit or seed, which means if you’re buying native plants for your garden, you need to check the label to make sure they don’t need ‘smoke germination’ or ‘smoking to assist with flowering’ lol. I love that we have lots of marsupials, a golden marsupial mole that lives in the sand and is blind etc. I love that we have antechinus that mate so violently they can both expect to die from the process (like what???), or our beautiful ant-eating numbats. I love that our swans are black. I love that we have whales migrating along the coast and bottlenose dolphins everywhere and incredible sea-life.

Actually back in the day I desperately wanted to be some kind of zoologist. I didn’t have the maths requirement (alas, I am not smart enough), and I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life studying Australian animals (and ecosystems, and geography, and flora). Now I still study it, I just didn’t go to university for it. I’m involved in a few groups that focus on conservation, and can identify local birds by song, local plants by sight and try not to be an obnoxious little shit about it.

And yeah, I’ve looked a lot into the deadly animals too. They’re badass! :D I actually mostly just post memes about them on Facebook, and on one of my Tumblrs under this tag.

tl;dr don’t ask me about this if you don’t want me to ramble excitedly about it because I am sadly one of those people where you’ll back away slowly with your hands like like ‘whaaaaat.’ (Also I love animals all over the world so...but anyway I can’t afford to buy all the ‘reptiles of Madagascar’ books that exist so anyway, I’m learning all the time! I mean I’ve drawn over 400 animals, and that’s what my job as a professional artist was - combining practical information with spiritual shit, so at any one time I am filled with absolutely useless trivia like: ‘did you know the collared aracari is an unusual toucan in that it roosts communally/soclally throughout the year?’ like, I’m sorry, lol. I usually just keep it to myself, but you opened the floodgates! *shoves everything back in*)

*

From the ‘your thoughts on’ meme.

[sapphic-bombshell-vixen]

Title: when the seasons change (or the pure and simple truth is that i love you)

Fandom: Emmerdale

Pairing: Charity/Vanessa

Summary: Color Meanings: Gold for courage, Green for jealously, Blue for truth, Red for passion, Purple for feelings of romance, White for new possibilities and beginnings.

of undeniable attractions and interesting confessions ensue between a certain landlady and a veterinarian.

Rating: PG-13 to be safe.

Word Count: ~5,097

when the seasons change (or the pure and simple truth is that i love you)

1.Gold

Vanessa chewed her bottom lip as she looked at herself in the mirror. Usually she liked this color, a color that reminded Vanessa of a late autumn evening, with the orange and red sky blanketing the earth. Where the sun is replaced by the moon, and only the light is illuminated around the fading gold ring around a black pupil.

Those colors remind her of something. Or someone. A certain landlady.

Those burning golden eyes.

She pales and recoils at the thought.

“Ness, are you listening to me?”

She shakes her head like she’s coming out of a trance. “Huh, Yeah?”

“I was askin’ if you were gonna’ quit staring off into space and get ready…”, Rhona said, as she looked at Vanessa from where she sat on the bed.

“...Course.” Vanessa smiled. “What time is it, anyway?”

Rhona checked her watch. “It's eight fifty-five,” she said.

10 minutes. She has ten minutes to finish getting ready for yet another blind date that her sister had set-up through one of those ‘perfect match sites’.

“You sure you are up for another one of these?” Rhona stirred her tea.

Vanessa shrugged her shoulders and applied her lipstick. “Think it's’ time to put myself back out there.” She told her was getting tired of her moping and not trying on any of the previous dates that she had.

“Oh…” Rhona watches Vanessa through the mirror. “So that affair you had with Charity is finished?...”

Vanessa flinches and squirms noticeably in her seat. “I don’t even really like her anymore...”

Rhona regards her in amusement. “Interesting.”

“It was just….” Vanessa begins then sighs in relief when a soft knocking sound interrupts.

“Oi! Ness. You ready?...” Tracey calls before she enters the door.

“I’m just heading out...” Vanessa answers as she smoothes down the invisible wrinkles in her black dress and heads out the door in a rush. “See you…”

Truth is. She has no fucking clue what she feels for Charity Dingle.

     2.     Green

It was Friday night and the Woolpack was mostly empty, the evening still too early for the rush of customers it would be receiving later.

Booths were dotted around the edge of the room, mostly empty although some held young couples, single people heading in for a drink after work and in one corner, a group of women stood at the edge in her direction, waiting.

“What can I get you?” ��Charity says, plastering a fake smile on her face.

A shrill high-pitched voice sounds near her ear, a pitch too loud that seems to play across the room.

“Oi... five margaritas, with the organic cherry juice from down at the Cafe.”

Charity sighed in frustration, “We don’t carry that...”

“Serving people is your job, innit?,” the redheaded one replied, unfastening her purse from around her waist and holding a load of cash in her hand. “We want the organic cherry juice.”

“Don’t get yer knickers in a twist…” Charity muttered.

“Leave it, will ya” Chas interrupted her as she takes the bills and thrusts them into Charity’s hands. “Just go get the juice, ya..Cool down a bit..”

Charity huffs out a breath.

Rhona and Tracey arrived; just as Charity was leaving, allowing her to catch the ending of their conversation.

“She’s stubborn alright...” Rhona laughs, “But I wonder how Ness’ date is’ going.”

“Well her dating profile said she was into romance and adventure with a love of animals.” Tracey smirks, dropping into one of the vacant seats.

“Tracey... They’ll be perfect....” Rhona exclaims, as she shifted her focus to Charity. “Hey Charity, two pints, please.”

Charity lifted her pint of Guinness as a mock salute, and leaned back against the wall.

“Sod Off.” She replies back before slamming the door and stepping out in the cool crisp air.

“Someone’s in a right mood.” Rhona commented.

Tracey hums in agreement and laughs.  “Charity’s definitely jealous.” Rhona adds, “And the green-eyed monster appears.”

It was raining, it was cold, and it was pitch dark. Which was no surprise, considering it was late November.

But Charity did not care; she could have cared less for the fact that she was thoroughly drenched, or that she was shivering from the cold.

‘Vanessa was on a date with a woman!’ Charity frowns to herself.

Charity doesn’t do pining. She doesn’t. So when it becomes clear that she feels something more for Vanessa.

‘Well’ Charity thinks…‘She has always liked a challenge.’

3.    Blue

“Vanessa?...”

The vet snapped back with a start when she heard someone calling her name. “...Err….Alex...”

“Well, hello to you too.” the dark-haired woman grinned. She pulled up a chair and sat next to the vet.

“Evening. What can I get you ladies to start with or if you’re ready to order?” The waitress asked, her smile half-hearted.

“I’ll take the Pinot and the fish, please.” Alex responds.

“Just a Chardonnay and the mushroom risotto, thanks.” Vanessa states.

The waitress jots down their order and runs off to the kitchens.

“So Alex...” Vanessa started, sipping her drink, “what is it you do for a living?”

Alex states,  “I’m a nurse. Well, a travel nurse really, but the travel is not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Why’s that?” Vanessa chuckled as the waitress arrives, placing their meals in front of them.

“You’re away from your friends and family in long terms, relationships don’t last due to contracts ending, and constant loneliness from ever-changing, ever-moving…”

Alex explained, her expression solemn. “Your profile said you were a veterinarian…”

“Yes, the patients are the best really.” Vanessa confirms.

“I bet.” Alex laughs and glances sheepishly at the vet before continuing. “So when did you know you were gay?”

“I didn’t.” Vanessa blurts. “ I mean I’m not gay. I’m bi. And it was just recently that I started questioning myself.”

“How’s that?...” Alex questions.

Vanessa smiled weakly, "Well, It's actually more of a whom...Charity was just…”

“So what happened to your Charity?...” Alex asked curiously. Her choice of possessive pronouns did not escape Vanessa.

“She’s in the past...” Vanessa replies too quickly. “..I’ve moved on..”

“You have?...” The dark-haired woman questioned.

“Yes.” Vanessa replies,  she was out ‘enjoying herself’ on a blind date in a sexy dress that feels suffocating all at once and her brain conjures up a mental image of Charity across from her, sipping wine instead of the brunette.

Tentatively, Alex places her hands on the vet’s own. “Can I tell you a secret?...”

Vanessa contemplated the blue fabric of the tablecloth before answering, “Sure.” .

“She’s not good for you, you know.” Alex tells her between a bite of her salmon.

Charity’s got a bit of a reputation. Well, okay, she’s got one hell of a reputation. Apparently she’s slept with half of town and that’s only because the other half isn’t gay or related.

Vanessa stood and turned to leave, placing 50 quid down in a hurry. “Where are you going?...” Her date’s voice asked, standing as well.

“I just remembered someone…”  Vanessa stammers. “Something important. I… have to do.” Vanessa pauses then side-hugs the other woman.  "I hope we can be friends.”

“I’d like that.” Alex smiles, who returned the hug, albeit a little awkwardly,  “Go on, then,” she encourages with a nudge to Vanessa toward the exit.

‘It was all Charity’s fault’…..Vanessa came to that conclusion.

  4.    Red

Vanessa stops in her footsteps, looking up and around at where she is,

  ‘Bloody Hell.’ She swears under her breath.

She’s in front of the Woolpack. With one last glance back at the street, she steels herself and pushes the door to the bar open.

Charity was in a sour mood already, to say the least. A mess. A raw nerve. She was going to go off.

‘The universe has a terrible sense of humor.’ Charity thought as she catches the vet’s eye as she enters from outside the pub.

Oh, for the love of -

Still, she’s a Dingle. She tilts her chin proudly and forces herself to walk, casually, back to the bar to find something to stabilize her nerves.

“How do I look?” Vanessa asks her as she approaches the bar, giving a little half twirl in greeting.

The teasing was just how they were with each other, nothing more.

“You look stunning, babes.” Charity replies honestly.

Then it’s deadly quiet and Vanessa blinks up at her.  “Did you just actually compliment me?”

“For a doctor, you can be a bit daft, eh?......” Charity trails off as she sees Vanessa’s glare.

To most people that would have sounded like an insult, but Vanessa knew better after learning more about the landlady at every turn. Charity was trying to hiding whatever it was that made her feel...

“I was out on a date tonight.” Vanessa begins, pushing ahead.

Immediately, Charity goes tense. “I know.” Vanessa gives her a withering look.

“Your sister and Rhona were all but screeching it like birds earlier.” Charity remarks. “So you’re dating women now, eh?”

Vanessa can't even believe what she’s hearing. And she’s pretty sure her eyes are about to explode. “They what..!..”

Charity ignores her comment and rolls her eyes. “So, how was she..this date?..”

“Alex seemed like a nice woman.” Vanessa confessed. “However, we decided it’s best if we just stay friends.”

“Of course you have.” Charity replied, dryly.

Vanessa said, a hint of distraction in her voice, glancing around the bar. “Been busy tonight, I guess?”

“It’s not really been that bad.” Charity sighed in exasperation, waving her hands about vaguely toward the opposite end where the group of giggling women remained, “Except for those five cows.”

“Charming,” Vanessa said, but smiled.

"I'm many things..." Charity winked.

“Oi, Charity. Stop yer flirtin’ with the Doc...and bring us another pint...” old man Fletcher barks drunkenly.

Charity visibly winces, then straightens up and glares at the man.

“If you’ll excuse me….” Charity murmurs with a nod to Vanessa. “Duty calls...”

“Or,” Vanessa begins as Charity pauses her movements to listen, “You could just find someone to fill in.”

Charity’s frown turns into a smile. Her lips shift ever so slightly, her teeth start to show at hearing Vanessa repeat the words, she once used on her.

“One hour at tops..." Charity promised.

Vanessa’s words came out of her mouth before she even processed them through her brain, "Come back to mine. Tracey is keeping Johnny."

“You’ve changed your tune....” Charity gave her a wicked smile in return; and begins to say something further.

Before Charity can respond with a cheeky response, she feels a hand grasp the back of her neck and pull her in. Her lips collide with the vet’s.

Eventually, Charity pulled away from Vanessa slightly, a flare of arousal shoots through her, as she stares at Vanessa’s smeared red lips. “A taste of things to come,” the landlady gasps.

“I’ll see you later...” Vanessa says, grinning widely and slipping out the door.

‘...I’m screwed.’  Charity thinks once Vanessa leaves and she pours another beer and shoves it down the counter toward a stunned (and silent) Fletcher.        

5.    Purple

Vanessa lay stretched out in the tub, her head resting against the tiles of the wall, enjoying the

feel of the warm, scented water and of course allowing her muscles to relax.

The vet can still feel her the tingling from that kiss as she presses her fingers to her lips.

The doorbell rang, jolting Vanessa out of her thoughts.

As she grabbed a fresh pair of scrubs from the dresser, she glimpsed at the clock hanging on the wall.

11:48 PM.

Then a loud banging repeatedly knocking commences.

Vanessa’s damp hair was slightly mussed, and her lips already twitched upwards into a smile as she opens the latch.

Having rushed straight from the pub to Vanessa’s house, Charity hadn't given much thought to her appearance.

“Like what you see, Ness?” the older woman asks, one perfect eyebrow arches. Charity watched Vanessa’s eyes roaming her body,

“You look tired,” the vet answers, as she steps aside allowing Charity to enter.

“Are you this sweet with all the girls?,” Charity says, affection in her voice, pushed herself forward,

“You’d be surprised,” holding the vet’s sharp gaze for a moment as she arches into the other woman which elicits a sharp hiss from Vanessa. “At how much I can handle.”

“Come here... I’ll help you relax...” Vanessa replies.

“Cheers,” Charity quips, as her hands tangled around the vet’s damp hair, yanking her up to a kiss.

Barely pausing for breath, so Vanessa could close the door behind them, and Charity could hear the sound of the dead-bolt being turned as she leaned back into another kiss.

“You’d better stop…”     Vanessa warns, tightening her grip on Charity’s waist, overwhelmed with need.

“And if I don’t want to.” Charity purred and teasingly pulls on the drawstring of Vanessa’s purple scrub pants before reaching inside and squeezing Vanessa’s bum in good measure.

“Fuck…” Vanessa sighed in pleasure.

“How positively vulgar… I swear, you’re a bad influence, Ness,” Charity moaned at the expletive and thrusted into the vet, building up a slow, agonizing rhythm.

“By any means...You’ll be fun to corrupt.”

Charity growls, something inaudible harsh and stuttering as a response.

Soft lips trailed down Charity’s neck, whimpering when she felt the vet run her tongue along the shell of her ear and back to her pulse point, sucking lightly.

Vanessa’s response to Charity’s challenge is immediate and sharp; Rendering her speechless, is merely bonus.

Charity leaned forward and kissed her hard, keeping their lips pressed together as she thrust into her hard, using her hips as leverage, her palm stimulating the sensitive area inside her.

Vanessa tears her lips away to get away to let out a strained whimper, as she collapses on Charity, completely spent and breathing heavily.

“Bedroom..” Charity hissed the words, as Vanessa guided them to the foot of her bed. Vanessa pushed Charity onto the bed, and Charity found herself inhaling as the blonde vet licked a long line up the blonde’s chest.

  “Undress…”

It was a command, and Charity followed it immediately and unbuttoned her pants, as her entire body shudders at the sensation of Vanessa’s tongue.

There are no more words,

  Just an aching need.

              A need to fulfill Vanessa’s desires,

          A need to fulfill her own.

‘She’s in love with Vanessa Woodfield.’ It’s that realization that sends Charity over the edge.

-----    Later    -----

Charity stared at the bedroom ceiling, her body aching pleasurably after that indulgence. She didn’t know how it was possible.

  When the only sound left is the synchronized sound of their breathing, Vanessa nuzzles her face into Charity’s neck. “What are you thinking of?..”

“What does it matter….It’s only temporary, right?”   Charity scowls.

      “Please don't joke about that...” Vanessa murmurs.

“I’m a mess,” Charity replies sadly.    You could do better. Someone easy like…..”

“Someone like Alex, you mean?...”

  “..Or Marlon…” Charity jokes. Vanessa effectively gagged.        

“I get bored with easy in five seconds...” Vanessa exclaims quickly. "I like things to be as complicated as possible.”

  Charity growls, tries once again. “I’m not a good person…”

Vanessa shifts forward in the bed. “And yeah, I know that too... you’ve got a past. So do I. So does everyone else in this sodding town. But I’ve seen the real you....”

  “You don't fucking know me.” Charity interrupts.

“Charity...”

And Charity is so charmed by the way Vanessa’s mouth forms her name that she agrees automatically.

She exhales on a curse.

Charity knew it wasn’t forever. The only thing that’s surprising is that Vanessa is lying about it.

  What a wonderful dream this was.

      6.       White

  Vanessa shielded her eyes from the sun and grinned. Charity was still sleeping beside her. She rose silently from the bed, and headed towards the kitchen, not wanting to wake the other woman.

While the kettle boiled, Vanessa searches her cabinets to see what she could conjure up for breakfast.

--..Meanwhile, in the bedroom..--

“Ness.”, the older woman muttered sleepily, reaching over, and fully sitting up once she feels the empty, cold bed.

Charity should have expected this.

She knew it, knew Vanessa was always in this temporarily.

She just thought Vanessa was different….

      As if on cue------the blonde vet walked back through the bedroom door.

“Thought I left, did ya?” Vanessa says once she sees Charity’s face and gestured to the plate filled with fruit, jam, toast, and two steaming cups of tea. “And I think we both worked up an appetite…”

“I’m in love with you…” Charity admits quietly. Vanessa’s eyes lit up. “Think I’ve been owing you that one for a while.”

“I don’t want you to say it just because…”

“I do feel it...:”  Charity concedes. Of the two of them, she’s never been the quickest to express what she’s thinking.

“Here,”  Vanessa whispers, handing Charity’s tea over then licking her lips and pushing the other woman’s blonde hair away from her face. “And I love you too…”

“Huh…” Charity’s breath catches inaudibly, and searches the vet’s darkening eyes. The look in them is sincere.

  “We should probably talk.”

It was also a bad idea, Charity knew, to suggest that they forego talking about things and instead maybe try that having sex thing again.

Instead, she said, “I would very much like that... But first breakfast...”

The shrill sound of a pager going off interrupts the moment. Vanessa lets out a frustrated sigh. She checks it, 9-1-1.

  “I’m going back to sleep.” Charity laughs, dramatically flopping back on the bed.

“Goodbye, Charity.” Vanessa winked.

Nodding, Charity had to let her go.. “I'll see you, later?..” She hated that it came out like a question.

“Of course,” confirmed Vanessa, as she pressed her lips to Charity’s cheek.         With that she was walking away into the darkness and Charity was left to face her future.

---...Later That Day…---

“Long night?..” Rhona asked, her voice low and concentrating, as she packed up the the surgical tools. Vanessa certainly didn't look like she'd gotten much sleep last night.

“You have no idea,” sighed Vanessa, who was dutifully focused on the intricate line of stitching across the horse’s shoulder.    

  The horse released a deep noise at the contact, but leaned toward the vet. “Shh.. girl, it’s okay…” Vanessa assured the animal. “Almost done.”

The horse nimbly leaps off -- clearing out to the feeding hall in one easy bound

  “Want to tell me what’s got you smiling?” Rhona asks, once Vanessa finishes cleaning up from the surgery, face partially hidden by her coffee mug.

      “You won’t like it,” Vanessa began tentatively.

“Why?..” Rhona asked, narrowing her eyes.

          “I went home with someone,” Vanessa began tentatively.

“The date went well then..?..’ Rhona asks, clearly intrigued.

      Vanessa tells her “Not exactly. I slept with Charity Dingle, that's who.”

Rhona’s eyes softened, “Oh Ness…”

“It could be a trick…” she adds.  “Are you naïve?”

“I don't think so…”

          “How…”

“I trust her…” Vanessa confesses. “She told me she loves me and I love her.”

      “Vanessa please, I just want what’s best for you.”

“And I don’t need your pity,” Vanessa snaps.

“S’pose so.” Rhona smiled.

Their thoughts are interrupted by a distinctive rumbling from the blonde’s stomach.

“Take you to the pub, grab something to eat?” Rhona cracked a smile.

      The vet blushed. “Yeah, why not.”

It was past three o'clock at midday when the two women walked up in front of the Woolpack.

  “Steady on, mate,” Rhona smirked, as Vanessa blushes.

Chas is behind the bar, balancing three plates of burgers and chips, when she turns around and notices Rhona and Vanessa entering the bar.

"I'll be right with you…” Chas shouts over the length of the bar. “Grab a seat.”

Chas emerged, minutes later, from the back room.  She walked over to the two women, “Hiya, love.” Chas says, in greeting to the vet and nodding to Rhona.

“Hiya.” Vanessa replies. “Can I get the tomato wrap and chips?

      “Burger and chips for me, please.” Rhona add.

Their food arrives fifteen minutes later.

“Anything else for ya?..” Chas implores.

“Chas?” Vanessa questioned.

“Yes, love.”

“Is Charity about?..”

  “Not sure love, she came in bout’ a hour ago and disappeared.”

------...But things do not go to plan...-------

vague, seemingly familiar voices amongst the group of drunken men became louder.

“Oi...Vanessa, I heard ya shagged Charity again.”

   “What was it like for the third time?”    

  “Come on!”

Tell us…”

Taunts, jeers, stares, all directed at the target...Vanessa.

A look of disgust sweeps over Vanessa’s face, as she grows tense.

“Ignore em’.” Rhona offers. “They’re drunk off their arse.”

  The vet scoffs. “Bunch of Tossers.”

  “Shut it, you lot,” Chas warns thus making their insults worse.

“Charity Dingle the daft cow.” one man in particular catches Vanessa’s attention.

“She’s a randy little slag that one, inn’t she?” he slurs, which causes the group to burst into raucous laughter.

  Their laughter and giggling filling the air. The vet straightened, switching into defensive mode. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Chas pick up a phone on the bar.

“What did you call her?” Vanessa hissed with barely controlled rage.

  The men in the group kept shushing him quickly, “Keep your voice down, Harvey…”

“Is there a price to be paid...” Harvey taunts her, voice extremely high. “Or does she give it up for free after the trial run….”

Vanessa rises from the stool, fuming in anger.

The pub descended into silence, the entire room holding its breath as they waited for Vanessa’s reaction.

She quietens.

Her brain shuts down as she turns, striding across the bar and before she even knows what she’s doing, rearing her shoulder backwards.

      Then Vanessa punches Harvey hard in the nose. The man lets out a cry of pain as he crashes painfully to the floor, like a sack of potatoes.

  “I’m calling the police on your friend there…”  Chaz sneered.

A mild protest erupted between the group of now-sober men,   ‘You have no right....’

“It is if you start causing trouble in my pub.” Chas announces to the men. “So if you want to escape the same fate...I suggest you apologize and leave a sizeable tip.”

Their mouths fall open.

“Stop yer gawping before I change me mind…”

Then, for good measure, Chas shakes the ‘tip jar’.

Chas carefully watched the four men as they quickly stood, each of them stepping to the blonde vet and apologizing, before dropping all of their spare change into the glass jar and running out the door.

  “Hero of the hour, defender of womankind from intoxicated gits,” Rhona announces, coming to stand beside Vanessa, giving her a light squeeze.

  “Three cheers for Vanessa, everyone!..” Chas cheered behind them, holding the nearly overflowing jar, full of cash in her hand.

And then a chorus of applause echo from each of the bar patrons..

Vanessa blushes in reply.

“I think I’ll take a walk…” Vanessa says to no-one, holding her aching hand.

  A soft voice replies from the doorway.  “I’ll join you…” Charity’s words barely crackle past her lips and carry a heavy rasp, but it's the most beautiful sound Vanessa has heard all afternoon.

“Charity…”     Vanessa breathes out. Vanessa said her name with such reverence and love, it was like there was no other word in existence that meant more to him.

“Hello, my love..." Charity smiles, slips her hands over Vanessa’s waist, ‘round her back, and pulls her closer.

“Chas, man the bar for me tonight?” Charity asked.

“...‘Course, love.”, Chas said, with a warning look that read ‘don’t mess this one up.’

“I don’t plan to….,” Charity replied aloud as she reached for the door.

“You defending’ my honour, was kinda hot.” Charity jokes, once they are outside the bar.

“As is...that weird wounded toughness thing you’ve got going on.” Vanessa begins and Charity raises her eyebrow. “You’re my friend…”

       “We’re not friends.” Charity whispers, any protest is cut short by the the vet’s lips on the her own. “But...I don't want to rush into anything…”

“What can I do to convince you?”  Vanessa asks.            She’s so calm. Charity can’t quite fathom it.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Charity clicks her tongue.

“Will you be my girlfriend…” Vanessa bit back, hoping she would get the very clear message

  “Yes....” Charity’s response was immediate.

“Come on…” Vanessa said, with a growl of frustration. “I have an idea…”

Charity watched her go, and felt a surge of something in her chest.

  “You are something else, Ness....”

“Regardless,” Vanessa begins, stopping in front of the flower shop. “We’re together...Partners now…”

Charity remarks dryly. “Partners in crime…”

Vanessa grins. “Which involves talking…    

“It leads to nothing but fightin’ in my experience…” Charity snorts.

“It’s just how healthy relationships go.” Vanessa inserts.

“You’re not going to give up on me, so easy…are ya Doc?”

Vanessa assures her. “Never…”

“Everyone. Fucking. Leaves. ” Charity snaps.

  “Yes, well…” Vanessa clasps their hands together, one hand nervously grabbing at her fingers. “I won’t bloody do it.” Vanessa swears.

“It’s a fine line between…” Charity says, as she brings Vanessa’s bruised hand to her lips and presses a kiss onto her knuckles. “...love…”

  “And… hate…” Vanessa silenced that thought, capturing Charity’s lips in a searing kiss.

“Wait here…” Vanessa insists, removing herself reluctantly from Charity’s side.

The other woman seems reluctant to leave her side.

Charity whines in protest, leaning against the back of the building, tapping her foot impatiently.

  A second later, a voice calls.

          “Enjoying yourself?” Charity turned her eyes towards the soft voice.

Vanessa was standing there, her hands behind her back.

  "I wanted to surprise you," Vanesa offers a coy grin, as she slowly approached her.

“These are for you…” Charity’s eyes dropping to the flowers in her hand.

In her hand, there was a beautiful bouquet of daisies, lilies and roses. Each held the same color, of white. If but a few shades lighter.  

“Flowers?...” Charity questioned, as she accepted the flowers with a soft kiss..

  “You’re very observant...”  Vanessa replies, while she wrapped an arm around Charity.

“What’re you after?” Charity asked, though it was a redundant question by this point.

“Not obvious yet?” Vanessa hums her reply.

Charity shakes her head.  “Show me…” she finally whispered.

      “I love you…” Vanessa declared in a soft voice.

Charity’s answering smirk told Vanessa it had gone over her head.

The next moment, Charity had one hand on Vanessa’s hip, the other behind her neck, and their lips were clashing together. Vanessa moaned into the sudden, hard kiss, nipping gently at Charity’s kiss-swollen lips.

Charity licked her lips. “I think I may be rubbing off on you....”

  Vanessa said, looking brave. “Someone has to…”

      “You’re stuck with me then…” Charity breathes between kisses.

They rest their foreheads together, catching their breath.

Vanessa nudged Charity’s shoulder.

“It feels like yesterday I was trying to sneak out of a cellar after having a drunken night with you.”    

“Couldn’t believe you didn’t regret... that night...regret me,” Charity admitted, a voice full of years of doubts and worries and fears. “I still can’t....”

  “I could never regret you…” Vanessa says. “All those weeks of longing….”

Vanessa noticed the sad expression on Charity’s face and tried to lighten the mood.

   “The Emmerdale Post is going to have a field day with this, you know.”

The thing was, Vanessa liked it. She liked those inquisitive, wary looks people had been giving her and Charity ever since the landlady herself had ‘outed them’ back at The Woolpack.

Charity laughs. “I don’t give a damn….”

There’s a touch of amusement in Vanessa’s voice. “Liar….”

Charity stares at her for a moment, before her lips curve into a piercing smile. “Just you, love…”

“Yours...”    Vanessa professes.

She’s pleased to see Charity briefly flustered.

Charity’s smile turned predatory. She thinks as kissing Vanessa’s neck., ‘Yes, mine….’

      “I want you...” Vanessa says, voice hoarse.

“You’re evil….” Charity said in a low tone.

“I think we should go away on holiday…” Vanessa jokes with a grin.

      “Someplace with sun...” Charity replies in a quiet voice.

Arousal thrummed through Charity as she pictured Vanessa.

‘Vanessa clad in a bikini, kneading sunscreen into her sun-kissed skin, licking her way down, tasting a slight hint of papaya from the sunscreen she had eagerly helped her apply…’

Her eyes close as she gives herself over to the indecent thoughts that swirl to life.

“Where did you go just now....” Vanessa murmured like she was reading her thoughts.

“I can’t help myself….” Charity chuckled, opening her eyes and momentarily looks away to gather her thoughts. “I guess I’ve been caught…”

Vanessa’s eyes darken. “It relieves sexual tension to fantasize....” Charity didn’t deny it.

“How about we go back to mine.... and you have your way with me?...” Charity whispers.

Vanessa, however, had other plans. “I’m knackered, it should be easy…”

Charity falters in her steps, as her jaw drops to the floor. “That’s so unfair...”

Vanessa smiled shyly at her... “Charity... I want to know every part of you…”

“Every part…”  Charity’s eyes spark.

“Even the bad bits…” Vanessa confesses, openly.

“It really means a lot to me that you are interested in my past…” Charity comments.

To emphasize her point, Charity draws Vanessa’s hips forward, discreetly urging her to move them apart.

“We’re in public…” Vanessa cries.

“I feel the same about you..." Charity laughed, with a cheeky wink.

“So much to know…Every inch waiting to be discovered...again and again...”

“You’ll have to wait and find out...” Vanessa yelped as the blonde pinched her through clothed skin.

“Fancy coming back to mine? Charity asks, with a suggestive smile.

“Lead the way....”  Vanessa sighed.

“Maybe sneak into the cellar and grab a bottle of wine…”  Charity spoke with a seductive tone.

“Where it all began…” Vanessa agrees. “Start off the celebrations…”

“What’re we commemorating...” Charity asked, with a curious smile.

"To our future..." Vanessa replied as she gazed shyly at the woman.

‘Matching gold wedding bands, You may now kiss your bride……….’

   Charity muses, silently to to herself. ‘Has a nice ring to it…'

Charity took a deep breath before proclaiming. “To new beginnings….”

“Darling…” Vanessa stresses. “..If you don’t get a move on, then I’m afraid I’ll be starting the festivities off by myself….”

Charity’s eyes widen at the hidden innuendo; and lets out a deep laugh. “Come, lover...we’ve got some celebrating to do...”

Vanessa smiles and silently swears she can feel Charity’s laughter carve itself into her bones.

END.

Notes: I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. Sorry for any spelling mistakes, I did not proofread it. ;-)

Original characters: -'Old Man' Fletcher is a character I made up since my knowledge of any older characters’ names are slim to non. -Harvey is inspired by the sleazeball Hollywood Weinsdick. -I know they are the same age in regards to the show but Emma A. is older so 'BYE!'

[moonlightxarcher]

Selene’s Log, Day Three (Part One)

Update, 7:34 am.

“Bzzzzzt, Roto Dex here!” Its voice is enthusiastic as ever, his camera angled to pick up Selene, Kukui, and Lillie as they walk along the beach. The sounds of the rushing sea and cawing Wingulls backs up the light crunch of shoes on sand as the trio takes in the early morning air. 

Selene’s lips are pursed in a thin line, but her ocean blue eyes light up at the beauty of nature, even if, she later admitted to the Dex, the hot temperatures left her feeling fatigued even faster than the blistering cold of Sinnoh she was used to. “You seem amused today,” she mutters, “We have yet to locate our target and you are already recording.”

“Well it’s not every day that ya see a Shiny Pokemon, and I wanna see it for myself!” Correct, their goal today was to not only observe the Pokemon along the beach, but try and track down an Alolan Rattata that had not a black coat, but a shimmering red one. Some locals had pointed it out to the bare-chested professor the other day, and he’d wanted to see if their luck would change with Selene there. Roto pulls up a photo of the elusive ‘mon one more time so the gang can get a good look at it

And it was then that the sky turns black. 

It was as if the beating sun had been swallowed whole, and even Roto’s glowing screen barely produced enough light to illuminate his human friends’ outlines. 

“An eclipse?” The shortest of the outlines- Lillie- pipes up, her tone edged with a combination of fright and intrigue. 

Kukui’s laugh comes from the tallest shadowy outline, “Haha! Ya just might be right, Lil.”

But just as suddenly as the eclipse happened, it passes, and the light of the beating sun returns to bath the group in its golden glow.

And despite that heat, Roto swears he caught footage of Selene shivering.

“I have seen eclipses before...” she mutters lowly, “But none have felt like... that.” Even the Dex could see it in her eyes- something about that eclipse was very, very off. 

“Well hey,” mused Kukui, seemingly sensing the tension. “Even if it was some kinda weird thing, Alolans are a lot tougher than they look! There’s this old story from way back, ya know. About Alola bein’ steeped in darkness and all that.”

Lillie piped up, her lips curling in a small grin, “Yeah! I’ve heard that one before. Everyone, people and Pokemon rallied together to blast away the darkness with their light. I think it had something to do with those Z-Crystals you’ll be collecting too, Selene!” she adds, nodding cheerily at the younger researcher. 

“I admit, it is not a story I have heard, but I very much appreciate being apart of such a custom steeped in history and myth. Reminds me a bit of Sinnoh.” She trails off a bit, and the Rotom makes a mental note to download more Sinnoh Myths to his database for later. After teasing her with those pictures of her smile last night, it might be nice to appease any residual anger with that gift. 

Kukui’s phone rings and he picks it up, muttering under his breath briefly before looking back to the girls and the Dex. “Can you gals take it from here? I’m needed elsewhere.”

“Of course, Kukui-san,” Selene nods respectfully, “Take care of your business.”

The Alola Professor chuckles. “Told ya, ya don’t need to be so formal with me. We’re colleagues, equals.” Not that it would ever get through Selene’s skull. He darts off and as he’s breaking into a run, he calls back, “Watch Lil for me! I’ll see you up at the Trainer School in a few hours!”

---

“Woaaah, that eclipzze thing was weird, but that story was pretty heartwarming if ya ask me.” The Dex mechanically chuckles. “When the Prof left, Lillie and Selene spent the rest of their time talking about old storiezz. Turns out Lillie’zz read quite a few bookzz in that little loft of herzz! It’s great seeing Selene open up, ya know? I may have only met her recently, but Kukui’s shared enough of their correspondence with me to know that she’zz not usually the type to socialize with real people. I know I get a pazz for bein’ a Pokemon, but still.”

“Anyway, they actually ran into this mean lookin’ Wingull later on that was bullying other Pokemon on the beach.” He flashes images on screen, photos of the gull landing decisive blows on a number of foes before switching to a clip of it getting smacked down by Selene and Strix. “Poor girl really met her match there!” The Dex plays a victory theme reminiscent of old 8-bit video games. 

“But ya see, that Wingull actually knew how to take a loss well and realized that she had a lot to learn, not just about fightin’ but about bein’ a better Pokemon too. So she decided to join uzz!” Roto flashes another image on screen of the Wingull tapping an offered Pokeball with her wing, followed by another image with more data about the Pokemon.

Name: Henet

Gender: Female

Nature: Hardy

Characteristic: Proud of its power

“Yeah, she named her Henet, apparently it’zz the name of a legendary Pelipper from a far off region, I think it fitzz!” The Dex brightens, flashing bright smiley faces on his screen. 

“And then the gang met with Kukui at the Trainer School,” the Dex continues, playing a clip of the young ressearcher and her blonde companion meeting up with the Professor and being introduced to the principal of the school. “Kukui posed a bit of a pre-trial challenge to her, fighting studentzz in the school! If she could beat enough of them, she’d definitely be ready to take on the firzzt trial. Selene even met another partner on the way-” A clip plays of her befriending a  chill sludge monster that had been minding its own business in the grassy field near the school, munching on trash and other gross stuff. 

“Yeah, she beat a student with an Alolan Grimer and just had to find one for herzzelf!” And there’s another clip, this one of Selene royally trouncing the boy in question. The Dex then flashed up another snippet of team data.

Name: Slime

Gender: Male

Nature: Hardy

Characteristic: Highly persistent

“Seemed like this Grimer wanted to see the world too, since he was happy help Selene in her alternate form research and battle with her. I can totally appreciate that! Gosh, how much fun I used to have battling!” The Dex sighs and continues.

“Thing is, Selene... took her test a little too far. Kukui never really specified how many trainerzz she needed to fight, but he’d expected her to at least fight the best student in each grade level prezzent- one for each of the four yearzz’ worth of studentzz. But no, She fought all the studentzz.” The Dex rapidly flashes image after image of Selene taking out one kid after another, even battling and defeating a fair few teachers as well. “And that’s when the principal called her to her office...”

Roto’s camera trails a few feet behind Selene and Lillie as they walk, with the younger blonde muttering in a low voice, “Are you sure you did nothing wrong? I don’t think a principal would just call you to her office for no reason...”

“I am sure it is fine, Lillie-san. I completed Kukui’s test, no? That is probably all.” But as the duo rounds a corner, they find themselves face to face with a very irate woman, perhaps in her late 20s, with dark hair and glasses, and a Litten glaring daggers at the researcher. 

The sight alone even sparks a twinge of wide-eyed surprise in Selene.

“I have had a number of complaints about your battling style, young lady,” the principal growls, her eyes matching the Litten in fiery anger. “Battling students leagues below you in skill, ruthlessly taking out each opponent with your strongest techniques... I should put you in detention for this!” And the Litten pounces. “But that won’t be enough. I’ll defeat you where you stand!”

Selene ducks out of the way of an Ember the cat launches, her left hand darting to her belt to pluck off a Pokeball, summoning forth the Wingull she caught earlier. It looks like she was trying to take advantage of Types, and Henet unleashes a Water Gun to destroy the next Ember the Litten sends out. The cat and bird continue exchanging blows, a multitude of Embers and Water Guns missing and clashing just as often as Wing Attacks met Scratches. In time, stray flames begin to eat at the wood in the hallway, starting to burn doors and other objects hanging from the walls. For awhile there, it even looks like Selene is about to lose, with her Wingull’s Water Guns seemingly striking wildly as the blazing cat dodges out of the way. One particularly critical Scratch sends Henet hurtling into a wall-

Causing a rare burst of shock in Selene that left her gasping. Blue eyes like dark oceans tremble in their sockets as she runs to her partner, covering her with her body as she administers a Potion to heal with gull’s wounds. Had Ichne not broke out of her own Pokeball to defeat the Litten with a brutal Tackle, Selene would have taken an Ember directly to the back.

The principal returns her fainted cat and approaches Selene with a stern look... only to smile brightly and offer her a hand. “I’m deeply sorry for that,” she says, bowing respectfully. “But I had to see where your true loyalties lied. If you were so strong without a kind heart, I don’t know what I would have done about your Pokemon! But I can see now... even if are cold and ruthless in battle like the children say, you clearly love and care for your Pokemon above all else.” The principal smiles softly. “You even aimed your Wingull’s attacks to fight the fires instead of taking the chance to defeat Litten.” It would seem that was true, as the blaze set by previous stray Embers had been staunched completely.

She nods her head to the Yungoos, who was still glaring at her and guarding Selene protectively, “And if this one can feel so strongly about you that she breaks out of a Pokeball just to protect you, I know I can give you my blessing and the support of this school. Just please, keep that kind heart, no matter what.”

---

“Whew, that battle left me on the edge of my seat! Metaphorically speaking. I wazz sure that Litten was gonna burn me up! That principal’zz a pretty good trainer. Did we catch her name? Ah well. Hopefully Selene takes her wordzz to heart moving forward. Kukui says he’zz got someone to introduce uzz to in Hau’oli City, so see ya there!”

“Huh... I just realized we never did find that Shiny Rattata...” Oops.

[temenosjournal]

I was asleep when the phone rang, when the nurses at the hospital called to say, “its time”. So about 20 minutes from now, as I write these words, 20 minutes and 5 years, it will be.

And how time has danced by, with new friends, new home, new me.  I received the anniversary notification last month, which marks the day I registered with WordPress, but the first post didn’t happen until October 26th of that year, 2012.

February 2010

In those first days after, grief gripped my voice every time I said his name, every time I had to tell someone he’d passed away. So I blogged through my grief.

It started simple enough, but it became more. It became more than  the cottage, the lake, the woods, the gravel roads, the Alpaca’s, the old railway trail we found one hot summer day, that I returned to again and again, way, way back there in Never Neverland.

But here I am, writing still, but on this new little Chromebook, at the crossroads of this fair village within a city I’ve always wanted to live within, sitting here in my little snug, in Tim’s big wicker chair, across from Grandma’s velvet settee I’ve dragged everywhere over the last decade or more. And when I return home, my reflection in that antique glass of the mirror greets me. That long green credenza-like dresser we were given by neighbours, well it’s packed to its backboard with as much as I can stuff in. Irish now is asleep on the bed, the same mattress, you know, that Tim and I shared those last days of his life before he chickened out and escaped back to the hospital in town.

Dying’s hard, and I don’t blame him. It’s painful, and stubborn, and takes things from you, more than just life, it takes it’s time, sometimes dignity, and sometimes the control that once predominated, the iron-grip of lies and illusions are laughed at, thrown aside, like toilet paper. And hospitals have better drugs.

He didn’t last long once he’d made it to the hospital, but I refused to sleep there in the room, waiting. For that’s all it would be, and I just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. And that hurt him, but it felt like ants crawling up my spine to be there. It felt like someone had a grip of my lungs, pushing at the valves of my heart, with my thoughts pacing those dark hospital corridors, nothing to do, but wait for it to be time. Wait. However, we didn’t have long to wait, things you dread always have a way of coming quicker then one would like.

So, here I am, watching the clock, tick, tock, as I was actually up this morning at 4AM, but it didn’t occur to me, till I gave up and decided to go make coffee, nope, didn’t occur to me at all what day this was. Till that first sip had reached my throat, the realization. Five years.

You know, I couldn’t even listen to my iPod till recently. All that music was the soundtrack of summer after summer, and bonfires by the lakeside, listening to Coyotes yipping across the dark lake, illuminated by the billions and billions of stars, dancing on its surface. Neighbour up with friends, guitars strumming ditties we all knew, laughter, lawn chairs ringed round, coolers at the ready, full of libation. Mornings at the kitchen table, watching the birds, as the dawn rose over the cedars that ringed the lake. Walks back behind the cottage, past the Hungarian Hall, out onto the road that now probably has cottages that line that part of the lake; there were just for sale signs back there 5 years ago.

I miss all that.

I miss those hidden back roads that lead to magical places, and those Alpaca’s with their goofy faces. I miss cresting the hill with Irish ahead, just the two of us, after those days of waiting for his death.

I miss the thousands of dollars he took from me. I miss the trust I had in humanity. I miss the security of my line of credit, and my credit cards. I’ve adapted, and truth be told, I think maybe the experience did change me for the better. I learned from him that people don’t really pay as much attention to the details, certainly far less than I once did. Sure, he used his knowledge for ill, but it taught me how to be less introverted. Far less all-consumingly self-aware.

Self Portrait – November 2012

And, I thought last night, that thanks be to whoever arranges these things, but thank god that first tooth fell out way up there. Facing one’s fears, like waking up with a tooth on your tongue instead of where it should be, well it doesn’t sting as deeply. It all changed me. All of it. I no longer weep, certainly not for lost teeth. It was always coming. Now I hardly think of them. I am humbled, but I’m content. I have a dental plan. I am more patient, I get angry less, I actually smile more too, go figure that, toothless grin and all. I grin that maybe no one but me really understands, but facing my fears is a smile that would have scared the crap out of me not long ago. I suppose my concentration now is just on other things. But I dress well, he made certain of that.

Well, truth be told, I am still cautious with those smiles, but they happen now much more frequently.

Maybe he took away all the security I gathered close, all the things that buffered me against what I was, who I was, what I wanted to be. He ripped off my mask, and with no remorse, stared me in the eye, and, well, metaphorically,  whispered to my soul: “you are weird like me, deal with it”.

And so I did.

Day by day, these past 5 years, I dealt with it.

So when I came back to the fold, when I arrived back here in my hometown, that Paula I had once been was gone. She had a missing tooth (hidden back then), and dyed hair. She wore clothes a dead man picked out for her and blessed be, she didn’t take the addiction to his Peruvian marching powder.

Today, the missing teeth are not hidden, the hairs not dyed and it’s long and flows down my back. I dress well and have a fine collection of scarfs to drape and tie for bling, and expensive jackets he found at Garage sales, with an eye for details I am still astounded by. I do not look the toothless sort, and I imagine it surprises people, and I like that. It makes me vulnerable, and saw a TedTalk by Brene Brown who said, “truth and courage aren’t always comfortable, but they’re never weakness.”

Yet, for everything he took away, has over time been replaced with things no one can steal. For all the security he took, I made do with the realization that all that is mere smoke and mirrors. True happiness is not things, happiness cannot be bought on credit, nor held to close. Credit only gets you so far.

Simplicity is the mantra – happiness comes like the sunshine that glances past the walls of this old Victorian, hits my ferns, dancing off the giant Plantagenet Hosta’s, with their gorgeous crystal white lily blooms. It is the heady scent of Milkweed that drifts across Euston Meadow, as I pass by on my bike, well before dawn, to a job where they call me “mighty mouse”.

Happiness is realizing one has become a collector of bikes, and pathways that lead to magical places can be found right here in my hometown. It is the sunshine glinting off Irish’s golden coat, as she romps up the path before me at the coves. It is the wind in my hair, as I cruise down the Thames Valley Parkway bike trail that runs along the river through town, with my bike guy, that Crossroads Man I still don’t exactly know what to make of; but is weird like me, so that’s good. He doesn’t care about all the things I don’t have, and he feeds me steak and potatoes, as we dine among the chaos and his collectables, listening to Tom Petty’s greatest hits.

I can listen to that iPod now and share that giant collection of tunes with friends, as we sit around a bonfire, drinking beer, laughing and reminiscing on “when we first heard that song”, as nothing on it is post-2007.

But I miss it all sometimes, even him. I did, after all, love him, as much as I loved his lake and all the wild things that surrounded it. It spoke to what was at his core, and I still wonder who he could have been, should have been, and why he did what he did, was who he was, and lied about what he lied about. I still do. How does a narcissist come to be? Are they nurtured? Or was it just his nature to be a conniving piece of shite? Who knows, I certainly don’t.

Perhaps the greatest lesson from it all, probably the one thing that all the other things hinge on, is that I am no longer afraid to be alone. I have come to embrace solitude, and I found that peace within myself that I never knew was there.

Five years ago, today, he died, and that has made all the difference.

Weeping And Dancing And Grieving And Leaving I was asleep when the phone rang, when the nurses at the hospital called to say, "its time".

[altughuner-blog]

Kolhapur to me stood for the temple of Mahalakshmi, Kolhapuri Chappals, Hot Chillis and Lavani dance. I first visited the city as part of the luxury train Deccan Odyssey trip. Got to spend just a couple of hours there that gave me a glimpse of Places to visit in Kolhapur. I knew I would come back. It took me a few years to return, but this time I savored the sights, sounds, and flavors of the city.

I remember wearing a saffron Pheta at the city railway station. This was my first taste of Kolhapuri culture.

Brief History of Kolhapur

In the recorded history, Kolhapur was ruled by Shilaharas from 10th-13th CE. In the medieval times by Maratha rulers with Shahu Maharaj its best-known ruler. Tarabai – the daughter-in-law of Shivaji Maharaj also ruled the region. Her idols can be seen all over the city.

In the Pauranik literature, it is a part of the Karvirpur Kshetra.

Places to Visit in Kolhapur

Mahalakshmi Temple – This is the biggest attraction in the city. So we did a complete post on Mahalakshmi Temple in Kolhapur. Do read it.

New Palace

New Palace

The New Palace actually dates back to 19th CE. Since it replaced an old palace, the name new stuck to it. Since there is little possibility of any new palaces coming up, the name suits it.

Built in a combination architecture in dark grey, the palace has unique eight angles with a clock tower in the middle. The ground floor of this building is now a museum where the collections of the royal family are displayed.

The erstwhile royal family continues to stay in one part of this palace. There are huge displays of Royal portraits, old furniture, artifacts, statues, Ganjifa cards, a gallery of stuffed animals that were hunted by the kings. Of course, there is a display of weapons and arms.

Durbar hall with high ceilings, carved pillars, and panels of exquisite glass paintings depicting life events of the royal family is the high point of this palace. The museum is well organized and documented. Opposite the building, there is a small lake and a zoo. We could see a lot of birds including the migratory ones on the trees standing in the lake.

This obviously is among the list of Places to visit in Kolhapur.

Bhavani Mandap – Old Palace

The Bhawani Mandap

Bhavani Mandap is the old palace that you enter through a big gate. This palace was destroyed in a fire and that led to the construction of the new one. Construction here is massive and medieval in the same dark grey stone. There is a life-size statue of Sahu Maharaj, the beloved king of the city.

We moved towards the imposing stone gate of Bhawani Mandap.

City Library

Before that, we visited the Karvir Nagar Vachan Mandir or the local library. On the left of the main gate, we saw the lovely Rajaram Mahavidyalaya. This beautiful building has nuances of Rajasthani architecture like Jharokhas and arches, Mughal as well as colonial architecture. Built in 1880, this building still runs like a school.

Another gate of Bhawani Mandap

We entered Bhawani Mandap, but instead of a building, we found ourselves in an open ground with shops all around. There were hustle and bustle all around. There was street food on one side and the temple offerings including the beautiful Saris on the other.

Straight ahead, I remembered watching Dandpatta during my earlier trip here.

Dandpatta Video

Here in this city, I got to see these young men and women showcasing the traditional Maratha Martial arts. Watch the video.

Dandpatta is the traditional martial arts practiced by women. It was a sheer delight to see young girls in saffron saris playing effortlessly with the swords in their hands. Young men also presented their skills with the swords but I missed the traditional attire.

Bhawani Mandir

Last time, I missed visiting the Tulja Bhawani temple. This time I visited it and discovered a small museum here.

Shivaji Gaddi, Bhawani Mandap

Shivaji Gaddi – Bhawani Mandap

There is a life-size statue of this favorite King of Kolhapur – Shahu Ji. There are dioramas of animals, including a giant bison that were apparently hunted by Shahu Ji Maharaj.

When you stand in the vast courtyard of Bhawani Mandap, you get a glimpse into the world of walled cities. I wonder how life would have been, well protected by the strong walls on all sides, and right next to the Mahalakshmi temple.

Kolhapuri Saaj

The interesting part of this museum-cum-temple is a throne that was once used by Shivaji Maharaj. A portrait of his hangs behind the throne.

Apparently, there is an underground tunnel that connects Bhawani Mandap to Panhala fort, some 20 km away. No one seems to know about it though.

Kushti or Taaleem

Pahalwan at Gangavesh Akhara

Kolhapur is a great center for Wrestling or Kushti as we call it in India. It would not be wrong to say wrestling is the favorite sport of this city. It was well patronized by its erstwhile Kings and the legacy continues to live.

The Olympian K D Jadhav who won a bronze in 1952 Olympics, was spotted and trained by the then King Shahaji II in the city.

There are two places that I recommend you to visit for wrestling enthusiasts.

Khasbag Kushti Maidan or the Khasbag Wrestling Stadium

Khasbagh Kushti Maidan

I have never seen a wrestling stadium in India, and that too such a big one. It has a covered platform that I assume would have been the place where the King sat. The legacy may have passed on to the current day VIPs.

In the center is the wrestling ring with soft soil in it. All around the stadium is just a slope with a layer of cow dung. However, it is designed in such a way that wherever you sit, you will get the full view of the ring.

I have never seen a dedicated wrestling stadium like the one I saw in this city.

Gangavesh Taleem or Akhara

Gangavesh Taleem or Akhara

The city has many Akharas or Taleems as they are known locally. Gangavesh Akhara is quite popular. I visited it around noon time when the wrestlers and their Guru Ji were resting after their daily practice.

I saw the large space dug within a large room. The soil is nurtured with Haldi or turmeric, ghee, and herbs. It is worshipped like a deity before the wrestlers start their daily practice. On the wall was an image of Hanuman, the Isht Devta of all wrestlers.

Read More – Pahalwan Routine at Tulsi Akhara in Varanasi

Watch this video of Tulsi Akhara

Other important Akharas in the city include Shahupuri Akhara, Motibag Akhara, and New Motibag Akhara.

Normally, women are not allowed in Akharas during practice time. So, please check with the authorities or take prior permission to visit the Akharas.

I am told that wrestlers from around the country come here to learn wrestling. This includes the famous wrestlers of Haryana, who have won many Olympics and other international medals in wrestling.

Traditionally, wrestlers or Pahalwans came from villages and hinterlands. It was kind of a family sport for many families. However, with recent success stories in professional wrestling, many young men and women are taking it up as a career. Akharas are also opening up for women.

Pahalwans I spoke to at Gangavesh Akhara were all preparing for some tournament or the other. May they rise and shine.

Rankala Lake

Rankala Lake Kolhapur

It is a huge lake little more than a kilometer away from Mahalakshmi temple. The nightlife of the city is centered around this lake. You will see a long queue of street food sellers along the lake.

Rankala Lake is a man-made lake. It has a temple in the middle just like Panchganga River has along its ghats. One of those places to visit in Kolhapur for the waterbody fans.

Kailashgarhchi Sawari Mandir

Portrait of Shivaji Maharaj

This was not on my list of Places to visit in Kolhapur, but thanks to Twitter, I discovered this little known gem.

This is a small temple located inside the lanes of the city. It is an ancient Shiv temple that was renovated a few years back. Shiva here lives as Kailasheshwar, just like he lives as Vishveshwar in Kashi. Kolhapur is also treated as Kashi of Karvirpur Kshetra. Nandi in golden color sits outside the temple door as does the Deepstambhas of the temple.

Shivaji Durbar Painting – Kailashgarhchi Sawari

What took me to this temple is the paintings of Shivaji Maharaj that is the official portrait of him declared by the Maharashtra Government.

Mahabharat War Scene by G Kamble

The temple has many exquisite paintings by the noted painter – Sh G Kamble including:

Shivaji Durbar

Shahu Ji Maharaj portrait

Mahabharat War scene or Ranbhumi painting with a 3-D effect

Shiva Tandav painting.

Panchganga River & its lovely temple

The city is located on the banks of the Panchganga river. I wanted to visit the river, but no one told me that it has lovely ghats. I noticed them while passing over a bridge on the river on my way to Panhala Fort. On our way back we stopped here at the ghats.

Panchganga Ganga Ghats

The ghats of Panchganga are full of various temples and tall Deepstambhas. All temples are made in stone, have a single room with a pyramidical Shikhar and a Nandi outside the main door. Each temple is at a different level. When we visited in early April, some were totally submerged in water with only the roof visible, others were half submerged while some were just inside the water.

This reminded me of temples on the ghats of Tapti at Burhanpur that are used to measure the water levels. I wonder if these temples also had a similar purpose. For now, no one could answer this for me. Opposite this ghat is a huge temple which stays closed most of the time.

I could also see some carved hero stones on the ghats. The place was filthy and full of garbage. I hope the authorities do something to keep it clean. It can be such a beautiful location for locals as well as travelers to visit in the mornings and evenings.

One person said, these are not temples but they are cenotaphs of the royal family of Kolhapur. Any information on this would be highly appreciated.

Town Hall Museum

Town Hall Museum

While the New Palace Museum is popular with tourists, the town hall museum has some of the local archaeological gems. The place used to be a Jain Mutt, but in 1949 it was formally converted into a museum. The architecture is totally colonial.

Vishnu Murti – Town Hall Museum

Some must-see artifacts at Town Hall Museum here are:

Shivalingas with a Sri Yantra on it

Vishnu Murti

Sculpted Elephants

Excavated artifacts from Brahmapuri area of the city

Hero stones and Sati Stones

Lavani Dance

Lavani performance by a troupe

During my Deccan Odyssey trip, I got a glimpse Kolhapuri Lavani. Local TV artists presented various dance and singing styles of the region in a small package based on – a day in the life of a village home in the region. They ended the performance with a dedication to Ambabai – the presiding Goddess of Kolhapur. There was so much energy in the room that we could almost feel the presence of the divine.

Mujra

Board Announcing Mujra in the city

I saw boards announcing Mujras in the city. I could not attend one this time, but I do want to see one next time I visit the city. Will update this space then.

What to Eat

Sabudana Wada

This city is famous for its non-vegetarian cuisine. For vegetarians, there is Misal Pao and Wada Pao. I did enjoy my street food inside the Bhawani Mandap one evening. My favorite being Sabudana Wadas.

Places to visit near Kolhapur

Kopeshwar Mahadev Temple – a beautiful ancient temple about 70 km from the city. It can be easily done as a day trip from the city.

Panhala Fort – This is located just on the outskirts of the city.

Narsobachiwadi – a temple at the confluence of Panchganga and Krishna River. You can do it on the way to Kopeshwar Temple.

Jyotiba temple – This is a beautiful temple complex where the deity is offered Gulal or bright pink colored powder.

Siddhagiri Museum – An attempt to recreate the ethnic life of Maharashtra. I did not particularly like it.

Amboli Ghats – It is the best place to see waterfalls in the western ghats.

Travel Tips

No photography is allowed inside the Mahalakshmi temple, Town Hall Museum, and New Palace. Most of the other places photography is allowed.

Places to visit in Kolhapur city is easy for the visitors with autos available everywhere for commuting.

There are all kinds of Hotels in the city. I stayed at Maratha Residency and it was a decent place to stay on a reasonable budget.

The city is well connected to Mumbai, Pune, and Belagavi.

The post Places To Visit In Kolhapur – The Cultural Heart Of Maharashtra appeared first on Inditales.

[raphaelarider]

The Sorting Hat || WDPA Challenge 001

Personal Questions

What is your real, birth name? Any nicknames? When and where were you born? Raphaela Florence Lights. Raphi is easier for people to say, so that’s my go-to nickname. I was born in Mercer Island, Washington, on June 21st, 1996

What is your Myers-Briggs Personality Type? (If you don’t know go here, this question is optional.) ENFP

Do you have a nickname? What is it, and where did you get it? Raph and Raphi are my most commonly used nickname. My papa called me Sunshine because of my optimistic personality, and Simon has taken to calling me that, too. I’ve heard Blondie pretty often. Lola calls me Razzles.

What do you look like? (Include height, weight, hair, eyes, skin, apparent age, and distinguishing features) I’m about 5’3”, with long golden hair and huge green eyes. I look about 25-27, but I turn 21 in June. I have freckles across my nose and on my shoulders. Also, I’m pregnant.

How do you dress most of the time? Do you wear any jewelry? I’m most often seen in dresses in shades of pink and purple, as those are my favorite colors. I also wear a lot of floral print, and have been known to walk around barefoot most of the time. I don’t wear a ton of jewelry, usually just small earrings. Of course, I wear my wedding ring all the time, stacked on top of my mama’s old gold ring.

What don’t you like about yourself? What kind of things embarrass you? Why? I don’t like my height; I wish I was taller. I’m embarrassed by my clumsiness, I still haven’t gotten used to running everywhere, and I trip over my own feet at least once a day. I wish I was more graceful.

In your opinion, what is your best feature? My best feature, physically, would be my eyes.

Where do you live? Describe it: Is it messy, neat, avant-garde, sparse, etc.? Si and I live in a pretty nice apartment a few blocks from campus. It’s an artist’s paradise, full of easels and paints and projects all over the walls. It is bright, with lots of windows and shades of blue and yellow. I love our little home.

What is your most prized mundane possession? Why do you value it so much? My mother’s gold ring. It makes me feel as though I still have a physical part of her to hold to.

What one word best describes you? Bright.

Familial Questions

What is/was your family structure like? (i.e. are you adopted, how many siblings, pets, etc.) My grandmother adopted me after my parents passed, and the two of us lived alone for quite some time, until Pascal found me.

Who was your father, and what was he like? Who was your mother, and what was she like? What was your parents marriage like? Were they married? Did they remain married? My father, Michael,  was the CFO of a major airline based in Seattle. He was extremely quiet, but a smart and caring man. He was the king of our household, guiding and protecting us no matter what. My mother had the opposite personality, but shared the same strength and wisdom. Her name was Felecie, and she was a botanist who taught at the University of Washington. They were happily married, and I was very close with both of them.

What are/were your siblings names? What are/were they like? (If you have siblings) I have no siblings.

What’s the worst thing one of your siblings ever did to you? What’s the worst thing you’ve done to one of your siblings? (If you have siblings)

When’s the last time you saw any member of your family? Where are they now? I last saw my Grandmother the night before she left on a three day trip to Spokane. I have not spoken to her since I left, which was the next morning. That was two years ago.

Who is your closest friend(s)? Describe them and how you relate to them. I would say my closest frend is my husband, Simon. He knows every part of me, and we love each other more than I could describe here. Besides him, Shego is also very close to me. We’ve even kissed once. I consider Nav my brother. He walked me down the aisle in place of my papa. I’m also close with Tiggs, Ariel, Anna, and Lola.

Childhood Questions

What is your first memory? I remember playing with my parents in a park, and Mama catching a butterfly on her finger long enough for me to notice all the colors.

What was your favorite toy? I had a pair of moon shoes, they were fun to bound about the Tower in.

What was your favorite game? My grandmother and I were great at hide and seek.

Who was your best friend when you were growing up? I didn’t know any people besides my Grandmother while I lived in her house.

What is your fondest childhood memory? Every year my parents were alive, they would take me to the Summer Solstice Festival back on Mercer Island. I loved watching the lanterns float into the sky. I plan on taking my daughter to see them every year.

What is your worst childhood memory? The day my parents were killed was the worst day of my life.

Adolescent Questions

It is common for one’s view of authority to develop in their adolescent years. What is your view of authority, and what event most affected it? I believe that authority should mostly be listened to and respected, as a result of growing up in a house where Grandmother always knew best. Now, though, I believe that it is okay to bend the rules, so long as no one gets hurt.

What “clique” did/do you best fit in with? (Royals, Dark Royals, Wallflowers, Bookworms, Punks, Hipsters, Rejects, etc.) I’ve been a Royal for as long as I’ve been here.

What were/are your high school goals? What were/are your uni goals? My high school goals were to finally get out of Seattle, which I did. Now, I’m studying art history in order to be a curator for a museum somewhere in LA. My number one goal at this moment is keeping my daughter safe and making sure she is loved.

What is/was your favorite memory from adolescence? What is/was your worst memory from adolescence? My favorite memory is baking cookies with my grandmother. My worst was the time she told me I couldn’t go to the festival on my birthday, after I had had my hopes up for a while.

Do you own a car? Describe it. If not, describe your dream car. I have a little blue Prius.

Occupational Questions

Do you have a job? What is it? Do you like it? If no job, where does your money come from? I’ve been working at Ann’s Flowers in Santa Monica for two years. Recently my work has been featured at the Museum of Modern Art in Los Angeles, which brings in a little extra money and will help when I go on maternity leave.

What is your boss or employer like? (Or publisher, or agent, or whatever.) Ann is a wonderful little old lady who cares so much to make sure all of her employees are enjoying their work. She is very active for an older woman, and always carries candies in her purse.

What are your co-workers like? Do you get along with them? Any in particular? Which ones don’t you get along with? All of the flower shop employees are very sweet. Most of them drive the delivery trucks so I only see them when they pick up the bouquets.

What is something you had to learn that you hated? Setting the temperature on the oven higher to speed up cooking time is not always the best idea.

Do you tend to save or spend your money? Why? I try not to be, but I’m a bit of a reckless spender. Simon has tauht me to be more careful with my money.

Likes & Dislikes Questions

What hobbies do you have? I’m most often found painting or drawing, but I also play guitar, bake, knit, cook (barely), sew, and dance (ballet).

What bands/artists do you like? What song is “your song?” Why? My taste in music is mostly folk, artists like Mumford and Sons and The Lumineers. My favorite song right now is Follow the Sun by Xavier Rudd, because it reminds me of adventuring and summer days.

When it comes to politics, do you care? If so, which way do you tend to vote? If not, why don’t you care? The more I learn about politics the more I consider myself an activist. There are so many causes to get behind! I take personal issue with deforestation and the violation of human rights.

What time of day is your favorite? What kind of weather is your favorite? I love sunrise, I’m an early bird. My favorite weather is warm and sunny, especially in the springtime with the breeze and the smell of the flowers.

What is your favorite food? What is your least favorite food? My favorite food is hazelnut soup, and I hate tomatoes.

What is your favorite drink? (Coffee, Coke, Juice, Beer, Wine, etc.) Strawberry lemonade!

What’s your favorite animal? Why? I love all animals, although I’m partial to chameleons. I’m trying to convince Simon to let us get a dog.

Do you have any pets? Do you want any pets? What kind? I don’t consider Pascal a pet, but others might, so I’ll mention him here. He’s my chameleon.

What do you find most relaxing? (Not as in stress relief, but as something that actually calms you down.) Laying in the grass to watch clouds is the most comforting to me.

What’s a pet peeve of yours? People who don’t seem to have any long-term plans or goals.

Sex & Intimacy Questions

Would you consider yourself straight, gay, bi, pan, or something else? Why? I would consider myself straight.

Who was the first person you had sex with? When did it happen? What was it like? How well did it go? (If your character is sexually active, if not, skip this question) The only person I’ve had sex with is Simon. The first time was a few months into our relationship. It was actually really nice, but it’s gotten a lot better since then.

Do you currently have a lover/crush? What is their name, and what is your relationship like? What are they like? Why are you attracted to them? Si and I have been together for about a year and a half, and have been married for six months. We often compare ourselves to the sun and moon, opposites, but can’t e without each other. We’re both artists and we both love the outdoors. We travel together as much as we can. I love everything about him. He is so kind and affectionate and warm. He is my other half.

Describe the perfect romantic partner for you and describe your perfect date with them. My perfect partner is someone who will love me unconditionally, and laugh at all my jokes. Someone who is braver than me in the dark, and probably likes burnt food, and isn’t afraid to have a bit of fun. I’d love to take them to a museum, where we talk about paintings and people and get ice cream after.

Do you ever want to get married and have children? When do you see this happening? I am married, and will be six months along with my first child this week.

What is more important – sex or intimacy? Why? Intimacy. Sex isn’t meaningful without it.

What was your most recent relationship like? Who was it with? (Does not need to be sexual, merely romantic.)

What’s the worst thing you’ve done to someone you loved? I ran.

Drug & Alcohol Questions (if your character’s a drinker/does drugs, if not, skip to numbers 5 & 6)

How old were you when you first got drunk? What was the experience like? I was 18. It was about three weeks in to my first year at WDPA. I don’t really remember most of it, except that I lost my wallet.

Did anything good come out of it? Did anything bad come out of it? I realized I really like strawberry daiquiris. I didn’t have a debit card for a few days.

Do you drink on any kind of regular basis? I used to drink occasionally, but haven’t since I got pregnant.

What kind of alcohol do you prefer? White wine or something fruity.

Have you ever tried any other kind of “mood altering” substance? Which one(s)? What did you think of each? I think one time I did on accident, it was at a party. I thought it was fun.

What do you think of drugs and alcohol? Are there any people should not do? Why or why not? I think everyone feel alright with trying everything once. It’s all part of the human experience.

Post-Powers Awareness Questions (For those who have powers)

When did you go through when you gained your powers? What was it like (in your opinion)? I was unaware of my powers until the age of five, when my grandmother adopted me and informed me.

What do you think now of being magical? Is it cool, or have you been screwed? I think it’s great that I can help people, especially if staying young is important to them. However, my grandmother believes that people may use me for my powers, and that I must be wary of the greedy.

Do you have a mentor? Who are they? How did you become their student? I don’t. I’ve never met anyone with the same power as me.

Do you have any magical items? Where did you get them? No, I don’t.

Think of a major event that happened during your training/initiation. What was it? I was never really trained, besides learning the incantation that causes the glowing.

What is something you had to learn during your training that you hated? Why did you hate it? I learned that my grandmother didn’t like it when I sped through the song, but I was always in a hurry, and I thought it produced the same effect, and that it didn’t matter how fast I went.

Thoughtful Questions

What about you is heroic? I believe my altruism is heroic. No matter what, I think that people are ultimately good, and that they should have the chance to redeem themselves if they have done me wrong. It takes a lot to forgive some people, but it’s worth it in the end.

What about you is social? What do you like about people? Everything about me is social. I enjoy people, I enjoy their resilience, and dreams, and every quirk about them that makes them unique.

If a magical being, describe the color of what magic you use, is it of a light color, bold and bright, pastel and sparkly, etc. My magic is gold, and shimmers brightly, even in the dark. I’m like a glowworm.

Are you a better leader or follower? Why do you think that? If you think the whole leader-follower archetype is a crock of shit, say so, and explain why? I like to think that I am a leader, but not in an outstandingly forward way. I do my best to lead quietly, and be an example to people who are having a rough day, and need to know that things always get better.

[isabellelambert1975]

Do you make these September garden mistakes?

I sense that the September garden isn’t anyone’s favourite.

Vita Sackville-West abandoned Sissinghurst for the Mediterranean in September. Alan Titchmarsh refers to ‘the depths of September and October’. There’s a distinct drop in the number of gardens open via the NGS. And so on.

But is the September garden intrinsically difficult? Or is it just too far away from the excitement of spring, early summer and the big flower shows? Then we go on holiday, and when we come back…

The Middlesized Garden in September. The main colour border is on the right, with dahlias.

But one of the great pluses of doing a garden tour – in blog, video or personal diary – is that it makes you focus on what’s really going on now. And now is almost the end of September.

So let’s have a tour of my September garden mistakes. They may help you too.

Mistake 1 – made last autumn!

You can’t fault September gardens on colour. I’m passionate about dahlias, and they are at their best now. But this year I have learned very useful lessons about them this year.

Dahlia ‘Con Amore’. It was mulched last winter. I think it’s planning to take over the world. Dahlias are at the heart of my September garden but perhaps I should go for a wider colour range?

We’re in Kent, which is roughly a USA hardiness zone 8b. So I don’t dig up dahlias. I cut them down and mulch them. However last year I got distracted halfway through and only mulched half of them.

The mulched dahlias survived, bigger and better than ever. The dahlias that weren’t mulched either died or emerged late, looking very much smaller. After I talked about this on my August garden video tour, several fellow bloggers commented that their dahlias had also suffered from the nine-week drought through the summer.

Healthy plants which have been mulched or fed survive drought better than those which are a bit underfed. It stands to reason, doesn’t it?

But it was clearly a double whammy for the un-mulched dahlias in this year’s September garden. Last year I had a bed packed with dahlias of varying but roughly equal heights. Now I have a bed of very large and very small dahlias. And the small dahlias are in the middle of the bed, ringed by the large ones. It looks like a collapsed souffle.

Mistake 2 – not re-thinking colour regularly

Video-ing and photographing the garden on a month-by-month basis also helps me focus on how colour is working. I have dark red ‘Rip City’ dahlias, hot pink ‘Con Amore’ and an orange dahlia that no-one seems to be able to identify. The orange one is very vigorous. I do wonder if it’s accidentally regressed from something else. It is currently rioting around the main border, swamping all other plants.

Unknown but vigorous orange dahlia. I put it on Twitter asking for ID and everyone was super-helpful about retweeting it (thank you!) but nobody seems to know.

However, looking at the photographs,  I think that red, orange and pink is beginning to look a bit heavy. Next year’s September garden would benefit from some of the shot-silk and sunset patterned dahlias I’ve seen in gardens like The Salutation. I do have the very beautiful coral-peach ‘Henriette’ but it is one of the ones suffering from lack of mulch and is very small this year.

This photo of dahlia ‘Henriette’ standing proud in 2017 really underlines how much this plant has suffered from the 2018 freeze and drought. This year it is barely a foot or so off the ground. I haven’t been able to take any photos of it, because the flowers themselves look a bit ragged.

Mistake 3 – not trying anything new

I’ve relied almost wholly on dahlias for my September garden colour. But I can see that I need to expand my planting horizons. recently visited Borde Hill gardens for inspiration on late season planting. I was impressed by Rudbeckia ‘Goldsturm’, which flourished in several very different areas of the garden.

Rudbeckia ‘Goldsturm’ in a herbaceous border at Borde Hill Gardens. ‘Goldsturm’ was also happy in a patch of shady woodland, in an exotic area and amongst perennial grasses. So versatile!

Rudbeckia ‘Goldsturm’ in shady woodland at Borde Hill.

I’d also like to try cannas and persicaria.

Mistake 4 – not taking advice seriously

Back to the Middlesized Garden again. I do take advice. Honestly. But I’ve decided that advice falls into three categories. There’s advice you simply have to take. If you don’t, it doesn’t work. Whatever it is (gardening, blogging, marathon running…)

Then there’s advice that is basically a counsel of perfection. You should take it, but lots of people manage to muddle along without doing so.

And there is advice that might have worked once, and has become enshrined in folklore. But eventually someone does some proper testing on it, and decides that even if it mattered once it doesn’t any more. I am thinking of the tests ‘Which Magazine’ ran on whether you really need crocks in the bottom of pots, for example. They discovered it made no difference.

So it can be difficult to decide which advice to take. Now I have discovered that ‘squash doesn’t like root distubance’ is  ‘first category’ advice. I planted two ‘Black Futsu’ squash seeds, then realised they were too close together. But how does a squash know it’s being moved? If I’m very careful? I moved it, trying to persuade the squash that absolutely nothing was happening…

The mound of leaves in the foreground is ‘Black Futsu’ squash. A few feet away is its much smaller twin, literally a third of the size.

Ha! The squash left in its original place is more than three times the size of the one I moved three feet away. If the seed packet says a ‘curcubit’ (squash, cucumber, courgette) doesn’t like root disturbance, it really means it.

And should you clip roses with shears or prune with secateurs?

This isn’t so much a mistake as a choice. I have a row of ‘Cecile Brunner’ roses. They are quite time-consuming to dead-head so I did one side with secateurs, tackling each stem individually. On the other side, I clipped everything briskly off with shears.

A row of ‘Cecile Brunner’ roses. I clipped the ones to the right of the bird feeder pole with shears. The ones on the left were individually cut with secateurs. That was six weeks ago.

The side that was carefully pruned with secateurs has come back into flower several weeks’ earlier. And it’s a more airy shape. The clipped side, however, has just as many buds – it’s just taking it longer to get there. I suppose it’s a question of what you prefer.

I checked these results with a rosarian. He agreed that roses will come back, whether you prune them with clippers or secateurs. However, he pointed out that if you’re pruning alot of roses, it isn’t necessarily quicker to use shears, because you have to clear up all the fallen rose heads afterwards. ‘When you prune one by one, you throw the discarded heads away as you go.’

Mistake 5 – neglecting your September garden topiary

I actually haven’t made this mistake, as we do sharpen up our topiary around this time every year.

Jake Hobson of Niwaki spoke about pruning topiary at The Landscape Show. While different plants need topiary pruning at different times, he advises sharpening it all up in September. These shapes are so important for the winter.

Holly ‘Golden King’ and one of the topiarised holm oaks. They are now about 12ft and 16ft tall respectively.

We planted two holm oaks in 2010. They were just young whips and cost £50 each. It took about 5-6 years to get them into a good topiary shape. And this year (Year 7) is their best cut ever.

We get Salvatore, a topiary expert, to give our trees their hair cut. He has also carved a ‘wedding cake’ shape out of a lump of Holly ‘Golden King.’ It took about 2 years to get this cut crisp, as Salvatore cut it out of a mature bush, and the shape won’t be perfect to start with.

Mistake 6 – forgetting about foliage

It depends on the weather, but on the whole we don’t get those glorious leaf-changing displays in the September garden. But the foliage still has a huge role to play. But if you have neglected garden chores, such as dead-heading, then plants grown mainly for their foliage can really save the day.

If I had some good foliage plants in the main border, then the dahlia problems wouldn’t have looked as bad.

I can’t claim to have planned it, but I do love this shady north-facing border (below) and its foliage contrasts. Personally, I think shady borders are much easier than sunny ones, because they grow so much more slowly, have fewer weeds and are generally less trouble. Once a plant is happy there, I find I barely have to touch it.

There’s still lots of green in September – I particularly love this combination of leaf shape and colour in my ‘shady’ bed. Clockwise from top: liquidambar, rosa glauca, crocosmia, hydrangeas ‘Hot Chocolate’ then ‘Annabelle’. It’s pyracantha in the background. I didn’t plan it – it evolved over years. If a plant is happy in a shady north-facing border, then it seems to be very little trouble.

Mistake no 7 – not understanding what the specific plants need

We don’t all have to be experts, but if there’s a particular type of plant you love, then it’s worth finding out more about it. Labels on plants are often fairly cursory and general.  Sometimes plants are more flexible than the label suggests and will thrive in a wider variety of conditions. Sometimes not.

So, if you love dahlias, I can recommend Naomi Slade’s book Dahlias, published by Pavilion Books. Learning more about where a plant has come from and how it’s developed really does help in understanding where and how it will do well in your garden. It also has inspiring photos of particularly beautiful dahlia varieties, taken by Georgianna Lane.

( Note: you can buy Dahlias online via this link. Links to Amazon are affiliate links so I may get a small fee if you buy. But it doesn’t affect the price you pay. Other links are not affiliate.)

A new home-made table

Enough of the self-flagellating mistakes for a while. Let’s celebrate what we’re really enjoying in the September garden. Mr Middlesize has made us a new table for the pergola.

Last year, we roofed the pergola with corrugated iron to make it an all-weather space, but couldn’t find the right size table for it.

We can now seat 8 under the corrugated iron roof of the pergola. The table is painted in Farrow & Ball’s Black Blue, to match our front door, back door, log store, bin store and shed.

So Mr Middlesize made one with a ply top and trestle legs (he did make the legs in order to get the proportions exactly right). I thought of doing a ‘how-to’ but it’s more complicated than it sounds. You need DIY skills. And if you have those, you probably know of better ‘how to’ carpentry sources than a gardening blog.

But it may be useful to know that he used high quality marine-grade 12mm ply, so that the table wouldn’t bend or buckle. To make the trestle legs, he used ‘two-by-one’ pine battens (because they measure 2″x 1″ or, more correctly, 21mm x 44mm). Sometimes called PSE (Planed Square Edge). The total cost was around £40-50, but it took Mr M around three days.

We had two sets of garden chairs, one in Farrow & Ball’s Hardwick White and the other in standard garden-centre green. So I painted the green ones in Hardwick White to match them all up.

Salvias are a garden saviour

Salvia ‘Love & Wishes’ is now planted, and has a wonderful second flush of flowers.The small white roses in the foreground are ‘Cecile Brunner’ (the secateur pruned side).

I haven’t grown many salvias before, but they really earn their place in the September garden. I bought these three pots of Salvia ‘Love & Wishes’ to cheer up my display of pots when we were open for Faversham Open Gardens in June. They spent two months in their pots, then I clipped back their flowers and planted them in the border. (Subsequently, I read that you shouldn’t dead-head salvias – or am I dreaming that?)

I’d been warned that you can plant perennials at almost any time, but if you plant them in summer, then you really do have to water them as if they were still in pots. I suspect that’s another piece of gardening advice that can never be ignored – especially this summer. I watered regularly and they have rewarded me with a truly wonderful second flowering.

In the background you can see the low blue mounds of clipped lavender. We pruned it in late July this year, but in other years, I’ve left it as late as early October. The advantage with a late July pruning is that we have the lovely blue leaf colour. Last year’s late-pruned lavender was brown until March (here’s why lavender can be pruned ‘into the brown’).

More September garden in the video

There’s a full tour of the garden in this video, as well as a look at Naomi Slade’s ‘Dahlias’,

Pin for reference

The post Do you make these September garden mistakes? appeared first on The Middle-Sized Garden.

from The Middle-Sized Garden https://www.themiddlesizedgarden.co.uk/do-you-make-these-september-garden-mistakes/

[tomhollandsmainhoe]

The Perfect Affair (TH)

Chapter 7

Tom's POV

As a kid, I've always dreamed of the perfect day that will forever be in my heart. It's horseback riding! What? Did you think that it was going to be my wedding day? I mean, sure. Finding out I'm Spider-Man, my future wedding, and spending the day with Y/N are my favorite moments but horseback riding is still awesome! I hope Y/N will like this date.

I was about to pick up the phone and call Y/N when she walked into my house.

"Hey Stanley!"

"Haz--" I managed to get out.

"--ard. There's a hazard and I don't want you to get hurt."

Nice save. She looked at me strangely and smiled with her eyes.

"What are you doing here, love?"

"Well, I was just going to visit you at your workplace! It's really sticky here in rural Montreal! How do you deal with these mosquitoes? I'm basically a mosquito magnet." she sighed.

She looks so cute with her cerulean plaid flannel and distressed short shorts. I was thankful that Haz brought her here but she could find out who I am. I want to be ready and this is not the time.

"Love, did Sam bring you here?"

"Actually, Elle suggested that I visit you at work so I can see what you love doing. Plus, I think you're very sexy whenever I see you concentrated." she smiled.

I caressed her and planted a kiss on her head.

"Okay, but today is actually a break day. So why don't we go horseback riding in this rustic part of Montreal?"

Her eyes lit up like a million fireflies.

"Oh my gosh! Horseback riding is my favorite! I've only ridden a horse two times but still!"

This woman is killing me. What more can a man ask for?

"Okay, get your stuff ready and don't forget to put on that bug repellant."

She grabbed an aerosol can out of her duffel bag.

"Already on it Stanley!"

Y/N's POV

This is so romantic. I'm a simple person. I don't want jewelry. I don't want to be showered with extravagance. I just want a low-key and casual gift. I fear that if I am adorned with these riches I am no longer the same poor girl who grew up with a strong background and identity. I'm still my own person and nothing will change that.

Stanley and I walked over to the stables and he gathered the reins and saddle.

"Do you need a hand?" Stanley offered.

"Nah, I'm fin--" I began mounting.

I expected myself to make contact with the floor but his strong arms caught me. I looked over my shoulder and saw the sinewy, buff arms wrapped around my fragile frame. Stanley has been working out I see. I lifted my chin up and peered into his eyes. Inches away, our lips hesitated and slowly moved closer.

"Are you okay?" Stanley stammered.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

I stood back on my feet and brushed my arms in case any dirt rolled onto my shirt.

"You know what? We can ride the same horse."

"Umm, isn't that dangerous?"

"Well, as you can see it's not dangerous as long you're with me."

My knees wobbled and my heart fluttered. Even 3 years into our relationship, he never fails to attract me. It seems as if every moment we spend together is our first meeting.

I placed my hand in his large palms as he helped me hoist on the stirrups. I felt his arms reaching from behind, caressing my waist. Learning my head on his shoulders, I gently squeezed his hands as we galloped down a trail.

Rural Montreal was so beautiful. The trees were bright emerald green and glistened in the rays of the golden sun. The sound of animals and nature always calmed me and enabled me to think. Afterall, this was a much-needed break from med school.

I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of the freshly rained trees and the cologne that Stanley always wore. I was in his trance and so mesmerized with him that I didn't notice that we had stopped.

"Love, come here."

He helped me mount off the horse and held both my hands in his large hands.

"Stanley, this is the best date a girl could ever ask for. I love you so much." I placed a peck on his cheek.

"Y/N... I want to tell you something."

I paused for a moment. Oh no. Is something wrong?

"As a young child, I knew that I always wanted to be Spider-Man but I never knew that I would experience love. Now, I have experienced love and I wish to marry that girl I love."

The girl he loves? Does he not love me?

"I feel as if I've known her my whole life. When I'm around her, time seems to stop and tick. I've had my heart set on her for a long time. She's so beautiful Y/N."

My heart sank. Is he talking about Elle? 3 years of a strong relationship and all of a sudden he's mentioning Elle?

"Sometimes, I can't express exactly how I feel and how much I love her. She appreciates me for who I am and I love that about her. She's my best friend."

He looked down and closed his eyes. With one loud inhale and exhale, he lifted his chin up and peered into my eyes. Slowly, he kneeled down on the ground and fumbled through his pocket.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?" He smiled.

I blankly stared at him.

"You must be mistaken. We dated for 3 years and you're in love with Elle? Now you think it's funny to propose to me?"

Stanley's smile turned upside down.

"What? I was talking about you, Y/N?"

"I've seen you hang out more with Elle recently? Can you tell me about that? Your bride is Elle! Not me! I was just a fling, right?"

"No! NO! I would never do that to you! I truly love you! With all my heart, darling!"

He grasped me from behind, hugging me tightly.

"Let go of me! I'm flying like a bird! I'm free! Just like electricity!" (Electricity from Billy Elliot, anyone?)

Stanley stopped struggling to contain my efforts to escape his embrace. He tried to hide his smile from my comment.

"Y/N! I love you!"

I turned around.

"You really do?"

"Do you think I'm lying? I know that you hate jewelry and all that materialistic stuff so I bought you a LifeGem diamond using my dog's hair because I know you love dogs! You love it when I'm being eco-friendly! You have a crooked yet cute smile! Y/N, I'm begging you! Please marry me!"

I could feel my heart traveling up my esophagus.

"Let me look at your face."

Stanley raised his eyebrows. He turned his head slightly and from that, I could understand him.

"Do you truly love me? Do you truly want to marry me? A poor, little, and plain girl? An ordinary girl who's not as beautiful as celebrities? A hardworking girl who may spend most of her nights working in a hospital?"

"Yes," Stanley replied confidently.

"Then, Stanley Frost I will marry you." I choked.

Stanley lifted my ring finger and gently slid it down. His large arms wrapped around my fragile body. Turning my head up to his face, I smashed my lips onto his.

"I love you so much," I cried. "Why did you do this to me? All that stuff in the beginning?"

"You see, jealousy is a powerful enemy. I needed to know how you truly felt about me."

"Stanley.... you could have just asked!"

"Alright, alright Y/N." He smiled and kissed the top of my head.

Tom's POV

I'm finally engaged! I need to tell Haz soon!

"Haz! Haz! Y/N and I are engaged!" I yelled out.

"That's awesome, mate!" Haz replied. "She agreed to marry you after you told her about your identity?"

Oh shit.

"... Yes?"

"You div! You forgot!"

"I'm sorry!"

"You shouldn't be saying sorry to me! It's to Y/N!"

"Oh man! I need to tell her soon."

Haz looked down at his phone. My phone as well was blowing up with notifications.

"Tom, mate, I think the paparazzi knows too."

I tapped on an article tweeted towards me:

TOM HOLLAND AND SECRET MISTRESS? It seems that Spider-Man: Homecoming star Tom Holland has been smooching with his possible girlfriend. He was seen in the woods in Montreal while shooting for his new movie Chaos Walking, also starring Daisy Ridley and Nick Jonas. From a credible source, it seems that Tom Holland is engaged to this mysterious woman. Who is she? Sources do not recognize her and it is possible that she's not a celeb and just an ordinary person. If you have any information on this lady, tweet at us or email us.

The article included a quick snapshot of me and Y/N. I was kneeling on the ground like I was proposing. She had her hands covering her mouth.

"Haz.... I can't do this."

"Tom, you need to. Do it for Y/N."