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thelandingmemories · 2 years

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The Landing

Hhhh

Forgot to remind you you have to travel. Problem about your country is not quite like anywhere else. Both land roads like to go in a straight line from point a to B, but in the Bayou doesn’t work. Sometimes you have to travel quite a distance of river rock the creek or whatever it’s called the turnaround and come back down the other side and get to where you are and then the traveling pretty miles to get a half a mile from your original destination.

To get the landing you have to leave the numbered road in the number of paper Road and then turn down onto another road which yeah it’s a road it’s kind of graveling and you drive down out of Waze and then you turn off and then you’re on a well I guess it’s a road but it’s not it’s a track it’s rough to rocks rotten dirt running in the direction. And then you turn off of that and drive why is done and you get to clearing. By that time you can smell the water and a little bit further you could actually see the world. Now you don’t drive all the way up to the landing on Leslie really don’t like your transmission. It all depends on the time of year exactly to depend upon exactly how much you love your transmission. Cousin check once tried to drive us home and down there and although yeah it’s got all that fancy all wheel motivation motivation or whatever you wanna call it. But that thing is heavy and if the ground is soft well yeah there’s not much you can do about it. He usually that Hummer ride around and drove back up to a little ways where the ground is firm and he could be sure he’s gonna get that thing back out to the road.

Where am I OK here I am

When you crossed over the hill and stop your car you can see the long gray house. I called in the house, I thought it was a house, it’s a rectangular structure to porches both on the long side and all of the gray wood as I would guess what it’s been sitting out in the sun for a really really long time. A person from another place might wonder why you have a two porches ago the entire length of the building. Well in Louisiana in the Bayou, sometimes it’s much better to be outside in the air where the air moves them to be inside. We will be outside on the veranda up landing pretty much. No this building was probably different it was a long building and had four vagrants Utah door to the outside and none of the rooms except for to connected to each other.

I thought opposite long end of the building, we watched absolute lead down to a small place, and then there was a path and it went straight out to the jetty. A wooden structure in various stages of repair, but would write all over the water. When I got older I realized storage building for loading and unloading things not really a house but to me it was a house it was my house. The house, I’m gonna call it my house cause set up on Wantable I’m single I’m off of rise up hill kind of actually into rock you really wanna get into it on one side and then the ground fell away pretty steep down towards the water. The outside of the house then you could step on the outside of the house you could step right out onto the grass and walk up the hill I’m up on the top of the hill you had some land pastureland and then I’m on a jean hat had a runner beans and other vegetables, we had some animals we had a donkey we had part two girls. Useful. Two goats not girls goats we had goats. And took lots of chickens. Do you like

On the downside to my house The veranda went straight out and by the time we got to the end of the veranda was about 6 feet off the ground. Where are you from the Bayou. Very useful in the bayou in case the water decided to rise. No slightly off catty corner catty corner hey picking spell catty corner. There was another structure. I figure way back when it was a smokehouse or something. But now it was a kitten kitten. Kitten. Yay. Not to unusual to have an outbuilding for a kitchen in old southern places. The idea was that if the kitchen burned out it wasn’t gonna burn down the rest of everything. You could set up a number random. You could set up on the veranda. and you would see a nice sloping swap of land pretty significantly long going down towards the water. Always tell me a ways down the slope worth a series of threesthree stops. Three tree stops. Now these tree stumps and lock the boundary for which was little kids wasn’t allowed to cross. South of the Lot older children kids were allowed to play further on down towards the water inside of them could even wear allowed to go out onto the jetty although that never quite looked too safe to me. Aunt Jean was always telling us that we had to be careful we couldn’t get go past the tree stumps Kalukalu might get it get us. No right here we need to insert The story of the lip glue. I wasn’t quite sure I ever wanted to meet Kalukalu I was more afraid of the crocodiles now I had seen a crocodile but I had never seen a loop glue. A crocodile was not something I wanted to meet. I saw on one of my first days down at the landing it came slithering up out of the water and I’ve never seen anything like it and I ran screaming up the hill and up the stairs onto the porch and I said it’s Marion miss Marion what is that it’s come to get me.Aunt Jean says the loop glue is even more fierce I’m not a crocodile and so I am I was certain I never wanted to meet one.

The landing was like it’s own little world. I had the highest carb hill on the backside slope and down to the bar you at the end and it made a Longfellow curve from the roadside all the way around to the jetty. On the first time I was there I felt different. I felt like I was sitting inside a big head and I could just sit and rest. Which was a good thing because I was to stay there quite a little while how many important things was going to happen to me. OKOK

Go back in was the first place where I felt I would be OK. I learned it’s in the doubt I learned all the animals I learned where I slept at night I learned where I can play everything about it. What existed back up over the hill out to the road didn’t really matter much I never have to go there alone. And I always walk down and sit on the stock and I definitely wouldn’t go past the stop.I had the wisdom to know that the loop gloomy exist out there but if you know how to stay away from them is going well don’t go. OK

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iliveiloveiwrite · 3 years

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Meeting the Family // Anthony Bridgerton

Request: Hello there, could I please request Anthony bridgerton and reader fic where hes introducing the reader to his family for the first time and shes really nervous but the family ends up loving her more than him? Thanks, I absolutely love your work!! Please dont overwork yourself darling❤ - @lespaceboi

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! I had so much fun with this request, I love it so so much. I only hope you do too! Lowkey posting this early bc I’m watching the euros final tonight and I won’t have time.

Warnings: she/her pronouns, female reader, light angst, some worries, lots of fluff, family fluff, Anthony being cute, dialogue heavy, declarations of love.

Word count: 3.6k

Her hands shake uncontrollably as the carriage clatters through London. Taking calming breaths, (Y/N) does her best to stop her shaking hands by gripping her shawl tightly. Her maid, Jayne, looks over at her in concern. “We can always turn back, my lady,” Jayne whispers, “I’m sure Viscount Bridgerton won’t mind postponing to another day.”

(Y/N) smiles warmly at her maid; grateful for the care in her voice. However, she shakes her head. “I’m afraid it can’t wait any longer, Jayne. Anthony’s sister and her husband have travelled all the way from Scotland.”

Jayne sits back against the carriage bench, nodding her head understandingly. “I’m sure it’s going to be fine,” She offers in comfort.

“I can only hope,” (Y/N) whispers, casting her gaze out of window and into the London streets.

She had met Anthony Bridgerton when shopping for ribbons. An unusual time and place to meet anyone, but Anthony had strolled into the shop and asked to see the best ribbons in the place as nothing would be better than the absolute best for his nieces. (Y/N) had giggled at the tone of his voice; unused to seeing such a powerful figure in such intimate settings. Her laughter had drawn his attention to which a conversation began. By the end of the Viscount’s visit to the ribbon shop, he had asked to see her again.

The visits continued in secrecy, or in as much secrecy as one could afford when holding a peerage. The relationship blossomed; what was once considered a friendship was turning romantic, and (Y/N) could not help her feelings for the Viscount. He had captured her, body and soul. She counted every blessing that Anthony felt the same.

The first glimpse of Bridgerton House steals her breath away. The red brick stands out amongst the paler buildings; Anthony’s wealth already obvious but further personified by the sheer scale of his home. The sweet scent of the violet hyacinths perfume (Y/N)’s carriage; their aroma bringing a small smile to her face as she remembers a masquerade party in Chiswick, a balcony and Anthony’s hands on her waist.

Her carriage rolls to a natural stop; (Y/N)’s heart in her throat as she tears her inquiring gaze from Bridgerton House to Jayne. Jayne smiles and squeezes her lady’s hand, a silent offer of support for the afternoon.

“They’re going to love you,” Jayne whispers, bolstering (Y/N) as best she could as the door to the carriage is opened by (Y/N)’s footman.

Now closer, Bridgerton House is much grander. The deep green iron gates pronounce the family’s wealth further. (Y/N) gulps as she takes step after step down the path to already open front door. Her steps falter slightly as she catches sight of Anthony waiting in the entrance; his hair the usual untameable mess that endears her so.

“You came,” Anthony breathes in greeting; his eyes wide with barely concealed surprise as he takes in the sight of her on his doorstep.

“I came,” (Y/N) answers just as breathlessly. Even the sight of him was enough to leave her gasping for breath; there were moments in their prolonged courtship that she couldn’t quite believe he had chosen her, that he wanted her. As Anthony stands there, his white shirt unbuttoned from the collar with his waistcoat undone, she realises that this is the most casual she had ever seen him. His outfit wasn’t proper, but she doesn’t want it to be. She wants to see him from every angle; she wants to know every Anthony there is. So far, she had found herself besotted with each and every one.

Both remain silent as Anthony offers his arm to her. (Y/N) uses the silence to quash the nerves rioting in her gut; she had never been this nervous, not when she was presented in front of the monarch for her season, and not when she danced with the Prince of Wales at his birthday celebrations two years ago. Now, however, her nerves were beginning to get the better of her.

Anthony pauses their journey. “Are you okay?” He asks, a note of concern in his voice.

“I’m nervous,” (Y/N) confesses bashfully, “What if they don’t like me? What if they hate me so much that you end things? I’m having so much fun with you, Anthony. I don’t want this to end.”

“Hey,” Anthony whispers, taking her face in his hands, urging her to look at him, “You’re going to be fine. They’re going to love you, I know it. I’ve spoken about you so much they feel they already know you.”

“You talk about me?” (Y/N) asks, her voice small.

Anthony presses a kiss to her forehead. “Constantly. I’m surprised they haven’t kicked me out with how much I talk about you.”

“You’re really very sweet.”

“Only because of you,” He flirts, pushing his luck by kissing her quickly.

(Y/N) laughs softly against his mouth. “You’re incorrigible.”

Anthony laughs gently, pulling away from her lips but keeping hold of her hands. “I’m as nervous as you,” He confesses, “But I have you by my side to help me get through just as you have me through this too. Any time you want to go, let me know and I’ll call your carriage back round.”

“Thank you,” She whispers before Anthony continues on down the hall, his hand squeezing hers tightly.

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” Anthony asks, double checking, voice wavering as they stand outside the door to the drawing room. “My family can be a bit much to meet all at once.”

“We’re nothing of the sort!” A masculine voice shouts from behind the door.

A surprised laugh leaves (Y/N) lips. She covers her mouth to bring back the mask of perfect decorum, not wanting to insult a member of Anthony’s family. “I’m ready when you are,” She whispers, smiling at the eldest Bridgerton.

“Sooner rather than later,” Anthony whispers before opening the door, giving her the first glimpse at his family.

The Bridgerton brood sit around the large drawing room. Sisters and brothers, husbands and wives – they all mix together as they wait for Anthony and his new beau. Each all fall silent as Anthony and (Y/N) enters the room; their first glimpse of her, their first conversation with her. Anthony had spoken about her constantly but refused to let any family meet her until they were both ready.

Now that moment had arrived.

“Mother,” Anthony introduces to the silent room, “This is Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” (Y/N) exclaims, smiling at the Bridgerton matriarch. “I’ve heard so much about you all,” She continues, casting her gaze around the room.

“It’s a pleasure for us too, dear (Y/N),” Violet announces, “Anthony has been nothing but a ball of nerves since he announced you would be joining us.”

(Y/N) nods at the matriarch, feeling herself become speechless as she takes in the sheer size of Anthony’s family. It isn’t hard to tell who the Bridgertons are among the group are; they each have the same eyes and smile. “It’s lovely to meet you all,” (Y/N) announces, repeating her earlier words, unable to keep the nerves from entering her voice this time.

“I’m Benedict,” The second eldest introduces, jumping up from his seat on the couch, holding his hand out for her to take.

“The artist!” (Y/N) gasps, “I’ve seen some of your work. You’re exceptionally talented.”

“Thank you,” Benedict blushes, excusing himself with a pat to Anthony’s shoulder, a silent sign that Benedict already approves.

“Help yourself to some tea,” A younger woman exclaims in the brief silence between conversations, “I’d get up to greet you, but it would take twice as long as the conversation itself.”

“Please don’t strain yourself,” (Y/N) offers graciously, “Congratulations on your pregnancy.”

“Thank you, dear. I’m Daphne, and this is my husband, Simon.” Daphne introduces, her hand landing on the thigh of a handsome man.

“It’s lovely to meet you both,” (Y/N) greets, making her way to an empty seat at a nearby table. There she pours two cups of tea, one for her and one for Anthony, knowing he would be dropping by in a minute or two. The tea steeps as (Y/N) helps herself to one of the many biscuits, taking a small bite of the buttery concoction before reaching for the milk and sugar. This is a routine she has practiced many times before, knowing exactly how long to stir her tea so it wouldn’t burn the tip of her tongue with every sip.

It’s takes less than two minutes for someone to join her at the table. (Y/N) offers the young woman a polite smile, “I’m (Y/N).”

“Eloise Bridgerton,” introduces the young woman.

“A pleasure to meet you,” (Y/N) repeats, feeling herself already grow tired of the words.

“Are you educated, (Y/N)?” Eloise enquires; her keen blue gaze dancing over the young woman.

(Y/N) finishes her sip of tea before nodding at Anthony’s younger sister. “I am,” She answers, “I studied under a very thorough governess, and I am fluent in French and Latin, but I’ve also been fortunate enough to sit in on some lectures at Oxford and Edinburgh.”

“How?” Eloise all but demands, ignoring the stern stare of her mother as she leans forward, elbows on the table. “You must teach me your ways.”

(Y/N) represses an amused smile at Eloise’s antics. “My favourite cousin, Sylvester, was a student at both. I often annoyed him into letting me attend in secret whenever I visited.”

“Did you attend any interesting lectures?”

(Y/N) nods, happy to further indulge the brunette. “Sylvester was a student of medicine, beginning his education at Oxford before continuing on to Edinburgh where he lives now. I’ve attended a few medical lectures, but I pressured him into letting me attend a philosophical debate surrounding Wollstonecraft’s Vindication of the Rights of Woman.” (Y/N) shakes her head, amused at the memory, “Sylvester didn’t find that one nearly as thrilling as his medical lectures.”

“Anthony!” Eloise calls, gathering the attention of all her brothers, “I’m keeping (Y/N) for myself. You’re going to have to find a new beau, I’m afraid.”

Anthony chuckles, leaving his brothers to their own conversation. “Pray,” He begins, “Just what are the two of you talking about.”

“(Y/N)’s education. Did you know she’s sat in lectures at both Oxford and Edinburgh? I daresay I might attend a few myself.”

Anthony’s hand lands on your shoulder; a warm squeeze has you turning to meet his stare. His smile is fond; his eyes are bright with happiness. “Are you inciting further rebellion in my little sister?”

“Of course not,” (Y/N) playfully scoffs, “Just letting her know that should she want to attend any lectures, I have a connection for her.”

A laugh leaves Anthony’s lips as he catches sight of Eloise’s excited wiggle in her chair. “I’m glad you’re getting along,” He murmurs to (Y/N) quietly, dropping an unexpected kiss to her hair before entering a debate with Eloise, explaining why she cannot go about interrupting lectures at prestigious universities.

Leaving the siblings to their bickering, (Y/N) stands from table, wanting to stretch her legs and discover more to the drawing room. By this point in the afternoon, the appeal of company has worn off. The large family now broken off into their own conversations; Francesca and Michael remain sat close together on the couch under the window, Lady Violet remains sat by her eldest daughter – the matriarch keeping a weather eye on her pregnant daughter.

(Y/N) smiles fondly at the scene before turning to one of the many fixed bookshelves in the room; leather bound volumes line the shelves. There wasn’t much for light reading, she thinks to herself as she reads the spines. Much about the War of the Roses and the subsequent Tudor reign, not much in the way of Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron.

“You’re very pretty,” A young girl announces from behind (Y/N). She turns to find two girls, both no older than four or five, their hair matching pigtails, curled into ringlets.

(Y/N) kneels to their height, ignoring the pinching of her corset as she smiles at the young children. “Why thank you,” She states gratefully, “But you know what I would really like?”

“What?” The eldest of the two asks, leaning forward in anticipation.

“Gorgeous pigtails like yours,” (Y/N) smiles, gesturing to their hair.

Both girls break into wide smiles, already won over. “What are your names?” (Y/N) asks.

“I’m Amelia,” The eldest states proudly, “I’m five and a half.”

“I’m Belinda,” The second girl introduces, “I’m four.”

“Well it is lovely to meet you both,” (Y/N) compliments, “My name is (Y/N).”

“We know,” Belinda chimes. “Uncle Tony talks about you all the time.”

“He does, does he?” She murmurs amused; catching sight of the brunette doing his best not to intervene on the conversation taking place with his nieces.

Amelia nods. “All the time!” She cries happily. “He talks about your hair, your eyes, your smile.” She breaks off, leaning towards (Y/N) to whisper in her ear. “I think he’s in love with you.”

“Do you think?” (Y/N) questions, unable to keep the eager hope from her voice.

“I know,” Amelia nods sagely, “I heard Uncle Tony tell Mama and Papa.”

(Y/N) presses her lips together to keep the wide smile from growing across her face. She had known that Anthony felt very deeply for her though he had never uttered a word. With a quick glance in Anthony’s direction, she gestures for the two girls to come closer. “Can you keep a secret?”

Amelia and Belinda nod silently; too excited to hear what (Y/N) has to say. “It just so happens,” (Y/N) whispers to the two girls, “That I also love your Uncle Tony.”

“You do?” Belinda squeaks.

“I do,” (Y/N) nods seriously, “I love him very much.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Amelia asks; her blue eyes wide with burning curiosity.

“I think on some level he already knows, but I plan on telling him very soon.”

Both girls squeal in happiness, leaving (Y/N) behind as they run towards their parents. Daphne and Simon greet their children with open arms, wide eyed at their level of noise as they demand their voices to be heard over the hubbub of the rest of the family.

“I don’t suppose you’d enlighten me to this particular conversation,” A warm voice sounds from behind her. The way his arm slips around her waist, as if it were his home, tells (Y/N) that Anthony has found her once more.

“A secret for another day,” (Y/N) teases, turning to face the man that had captured her heart so wholly.

“Will you tell me later?” He asks, pushing out his bottom lip in a pout that has her giggling.

“Perhaps,” She whispers, leaning ever closer to the Bridgerton. “Only if you promise me something.”

“Anything,” He whispers seriously, “I’d give you the world if I could.”

“I know you would,” She murmurs, “But all I’m asking for is for you to not pester your nieces over what I told them.”

“How did you know?” Anthony asks, voice glum.

(Y/N) brings a gloved hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing his cheekbone. “Because I know you, my dear.”

Anthony leans into the touch, turning his face slightly to press a kiss to her wrist. “I like being your dear.”

“I like being yours too,” She replies earnestly. “Now, I’ve spoken to most of your siblings. Do me the honour of introducing me to Francesca, she came all the way from Scotland, it’s rude that I’ve neglected her.”

“Yes, my darling,” Anthony responds, taking her hand and leading her to the couch where Francesca sits with her husband, Michael.

The day continues in a similar fashion. Bridgerton House had never been quiet when the whole family was in attendance; raucous laughter and loving bickering filled its many corners with noise. The life and laughter of the family bringing the house to life.

As the grandfather clock ticks closer and closer to the evening, (Y/N) finds herself lamenting the fact that she must leave the Bridgerton family so soon.

“I must take my leave,” She announces to sad cries to Amelia and Belinda, already so attached.

“So soon?” Benedict asks, frowning as he wonders when he’ll get to continues his conversation with her. So few wanted to talk about art nowadays.

(Y/N) meets Anthony’s gaze, hating how sad he looks. “I’m having dinner with my parents and their friends. An occasion I simply cannot miss, I’m afraid.”

“Do we know them?” Violet asks in an attempt to delay the inevitable. She had grown fond of the young woman over the course of the afternoon, seeing how perfectly she fit amongst her family, how she brought out the best in her eldest son.

“The St. Clair’s?” (Y/N) enquires, drawing her shawl around her shoulders. “My father has worked with Lady Danbury’s family for a long time. Gareth and I are old friends.”

“Have a wonderful time,” Violet announces, “But please visit us soon.”

“I would love to,” (Y/N) smiles, crossing the room to be by Anthony’s side.

Offering her goodbyes to the large family, (Y/N) takes Anthony’s offered arm, hooking hers through his as they descend the grand marble staircase to the foyer. “Your family are lovely,” (Y/N) compliments as she takes care not to trip over her skirts on the stairs. “You all care for each so much, it’s clear the moment you enter the room.”

“My mother and siblings are the best people I know,” Anthony murmurs, walking beside (Y/N) at a steady pace in order to delay her departure by a minute.

“I can only hope they liked me,” She worries, her teeth biting into her bottom lip in a way that has Anthony restraining himself by gripping her arm tighter.

“You were wonderful,” Anthony murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheekbone before helping her into her carriage.

“Thank you for today,” (Y/N) calls, sticking her hand from the window to prolong the contact between Anthony and herself. She wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye; wasn’t quite ready to leave him.

“Thank you for coming,” Anthony answers, kissing her hand before tucking it back through the window of her carriage. If they didn’t say goodbye now, they wouldn’t say goodbye at all. If she didn’t leave, he would most likely offer marriage on the pavement than somewhere proper.

Nodding to her footman, Anthony watches her carriage leave. He stands on the doorstep to Bridgerton House until her carriage is no longer in sight. Only then does he let himself release the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Weariness washes over him as he turns to face his childhood home. Inside, in his mother’s drawing room, await his family. Each one ready to give their verdict on the woman he has had the good fortune to fall in love with.

Sighing, he kicks at the ground, knowing he cannot delay this any longer.

His mother and siblings are where he left them; his mother’s drawing room. They fall silent at the sight of him; each clearly unwilling to make the leap and be the first to broach the elephant in the room.

“What do you think of (Y/N)?” Anthony asks; voice loud in the ever so silent room. He meets the eyes of each of his siblings, not missing the way Daphne leans into Simon or the way Michael reaches for Francesca’s hand. They’ve all found their love matches; it was now Anthony’s turn.

Colin takes the fall for his family, standing to face his eldest brother and titled peer. He clears his throat, fidgeting on the spot before he eventually pauses all movement, breaking into a smile to declare, “We all loved her!”

“You do?” Anthony asks, falling onto a nearby couch in shock.

Violet smiles at her eldest son. “We do. (Y/N) is a sweetheart and looks to be just as taken with you as you are with her.”

Blush begins to paint Anthony’s cheeks. “I can only hope, dear mother.”

“It’s true,” Amelia chimes, her young face bright with joy. “She told Belinda and I.”

“You have found your love match, my darling boy,” Violet states warmly.

“It does help that (Y/N) is a trifle more tolerable than you, dear brother,” Benedict teases, laughter bright in his Bridgerton blue eyes.

“And so educated!” Eloise gasps, “We had an enlightening conversation about Wollstonecraft’s Vindication on the Rights of Women.”

“She was wonderful with Amelia and Belinda,” Daphne murmurs, her hand falling protectively over her pregnant stomach.

“Why do I get the feeling that you prefer (Y/N) to me?” Anthony murmurs, mischief bright in his eyes and evident in his voice.

“That’s exactly what we’re saying,” Gregory points out, “I only hope (Y/N) can keep up with your obsession with Pall Mall.”

“A worthy obsession,” Anthony argues, mind wandering to the games he could play with (Y/N).

“She’s wonderful,” Violet interrupts, a large smile on her face as she takes the final say.

Anthony smiles widely at his mother; constantly grateful for her love and care throughout his life. She had been lost after the death of his father, as had Anthony, but Anthony had never truly understood what it would feel like to lose someone you love as wholeheartedly as his mother loved his father.

Until now, that is. The mere thought of losing her sends a lance of pain through his chest, cutting short his breath and increasing his panic. Anthony shakes his head to rid himself of such thoughts and feelings.

Calm enough, he faces his family once more. “I plan on proposing to (Y/N),” He announces, showing his family the ring box that has been sitting heavily in his trouser pocket all day.

“Thank goodness,” Francesca murmurs, smiling indulgently at her big brother. “I cannot wait to call her sister.”

“Indeed,” Anthony murmurs, a loving smile on his face, “I cannot wait to call her my wife.”

******

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @sexysirius @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley @spideysz @iammirrorball @writeroutoftime @joyfullymulti @nuttytani @multifandomfix @freyathehuntress @lespaceboi

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#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagines #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton fanfic #Bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton fluff

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diaco1968 · 4 years

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The wandering prince of the outcasts

Fantasy au

Exiled prince Shoto todoroki x reader

Also, smut

Warning! A little smut/ v sex, passive tiny bit of angst, porn with too much plot? XD I just get carried away with fantasy au.

Sprinting out of the village gates with a sharp turn off the main path to shake off your pursuers you had reached a steep slope, immediately realising why there was no path leading this way. In front of you was a giant deep pit and now you couldn't stop running. "Oh crap!" You screamed as you braced yourself to fall down the deep pit of death in front of you. But you didn't, your legs wobbled as you slipped on something and fell on your butt, sliding over the pit and down the slope the rest of the way. You came to a halt on the even ground, heart still beating rapidly in your chest and panting heavily. Your hands only now felt the coldness under you making you look down in awe at the ground underneath you and the path you just slid down on. 'Ice?...' your jaw hung open but the sound of someone clearing their throat right from over you snapped you back to yourself and you whipped back around to look at the source "Ehem. Are you alright?" You saw a hand in your face urging you to accept the help to get up. Your eyes moved up and landed on his face. Oddly satisfying symmetrical two colored hair. And mesmerising eyes. Fair skin, except for a burnt patch around his one sharp blue eye. Definitely not from around here or a regular wanderer. "I'm great." You slowly reached up, smiling sheepishly as you took his hand and stood up "I, um... was that somehow, you?" You pointed back at the ice behind you. "What?" He said unfazed as he glanced behind you before locking eyes with yours again. "The ice that just saved... me...?" You turned around and trailed off. It as all gone. The thick ice had disappeared with just a trail of glistening wet grass. "What?!" You looked at him seriously "I know what I saw! I slipped on a layer of ice that appeared out of nowhere! Now if that is something you need to hide, it's none of my business. I'll keep your secret." You huffed crossing your arms over your chest as you narrowed your eyes at him. "I don't know what you're talking about. But Please do be more careful next time." He replied looking at you amused. "I will. Thanks for saving my life." You grumbled, kind of disappointed as you turned around and walked away from him. You were definitely sure you didn't just imagine that. You had thought you were in for a treat by meeting a mysterious wizard or something, but well, denying he just used magic was logically how it should've turned out. People weren't kind to wizards and the fact that he had it in his heart to save you from inevitable death even though it wasn't any of his concern, had you feeling grateful anyway.

"You're welcome." He said quietly as you walked away out of earshot a half amused smile still on his face. The fact that you just accepted his power and then accepted him denying it without pushing him, had caught his interest. He started walking again and pulled the reigns lightly once before letting go so the white stallion followed him as well.

You were reunited with your bunch at a nearby inn, Kaminari apologizing profusely for getting you in such a mess back in the village. You had brushed him off with a light pat on the shoulder and now you were sitting at one of the tables with him, Krishima and Sero drinking and eating the day's loot away while you waited for Bakugou to join you. A curious bunch. You had met them through Kirishima, when you've been wandering around alone one night and offered the only piece of food you had to a lonely looking dragon that didn't roast you on sight. Much to your surprise he transformed into a bubbly red headed boy right in front of your eyes and despite your protests led you away to his pals. Dragged you by the hand more like. And well a simple 'can we keep her!?' And a bunch of yelling Bakugou later, you found yourself travelling with these guys. Occasionally splitting up to do your own things when you got to a town or a village and then meeting back up somewhere and moving on. A curious bunch indeed.

The familiar booming sound of the ash blonde malre reached you over the sound of the chatter, way before he even entered the inn himself. "Oh there he is!... and... who's that?" Kirishima perked up happily but immediately his expression changed to concerned. You turned your head towards the entrance and sure enough Bakugou was dragging someone in yelling something about being spied on. Low and behold the person he dragged in was no other than the ice boy who just saved you earlier. 'Definitely not a chance of keeping this one.' You thought to yourself as you glanced at Kirishima's defensive expression. He was close with Bakugou and they were for objective reasons... wanted dead or alive. It didn't help that the wandering ice boy, despite obvious efforts at disguise, a brand new traveller's cloak, looked like royalty... or at least some sort of authority. You labled him off as some sort of noble son in his rebel stage of life. "Unhand me this instance! You were threatening a dog for barking at you and I was just watching." The boy objected and you snorted totally seeing Bakugou doing that. You decided to pay him back for saving your life earlier so you stood up and walked towards them "oh my! Is that really you?! What would your father say?" You reached them walking past Bakugou who was now silent looking at you quizzically and gave the boy a light half hug, ripping Bakugou's hand off of his shoulder in the process "don't get me wrong I do miss you! But you are so far away from home." You pulled back and He looked equally as confused as Bakugou, only way less violent and way more calm. You huffed glaring at Bakugou "is that a way to treat my cousin?" He narrowed his eyes at you "your cousin?! He looks like he just came straight out of the royal castle!" Shoto looked surprided at that looking down at his attire and murmuring to himself more so than anything "I do?..." you laughed grabbing the boy's shoulder and started leading him out "he just doesn't know what to wear and where to wear it to. I don't look like royalty to you, do I? My cousin definitely isn't either." Bakugou wasn't too convinced but let you two walk away with a grumpy growl.

Once outside you turned the corner slipping behind the inn with him and a safe distance away from any ears in hearing range, you let him go "of all the people you could randomly piss off, it had to be Bakugou?" You chuckled as he fixed his clothes where Bakugou had crumbled in his fist. "He told a dog, and I qoute, 'you think you are better than me?!' Then he demanded that the dog fight him if it dared when he got barked at..." he deadpanned looking at you. "Yeah that sounds about right." You chuckled looking at him kindly, making a little smile cross his lips. "Alright I'm (y/n) and as my 'cousin', I think I should know your name too." His smile wore off immediately and he looked a bit uneasy making you soften up a bit "look, you don't look like you belong out here on your own. I just want to help. Consider it pay back for saving my life?" He looked up at you wondering why you took 'magic' so lightly. "Shoto, you can call me Shoto." You smiled at him brightly "Alright Shoto, we're go-" you were interrupted at the loud sounds of commotion coming from the direction of the inn. You gestured for him to be quiet as you peeked around the corner to see what was going on. As usual it was Bakugou yelling but this time there were a bunch of people clad in dark cloaks backing him out of the inn along with Kirishima. The moment one of them shot a big blue ball of fire at the two, Kirishima transformed into a dragon, blocking it and flew the both of them away, getting chased by a couple of the cloaked forms who transformed into winged creatures and persued. From the other side you could see Sero and Kaminari hopping on their horses and each rode off in a different direction trying to lose their own pursuers who were hot on their trails.

You stepped out of your cover and you were immediately stopped by one of the cloaked ones smirking down at you with a crooked smirk over chapped lips, topped off with a scar on one side. He raised his hand towards you to grab your face. You gasped in fear but the hand in front you burst into flames and as the guy started howling in pain Shoto grabbed you from behind, whistling his horse over, hopping on and pulled you on as well spurring the giant beast, who reared loudly before galloping inside the forest.

He hadn't paid much attention when pulling you on the horse and now you were draped over his lap on your stomach trying not to throw up from all the movements of the horse. "Okay okay! We lost them! I need to get off!" Shoto glanced down at you blushing as you clutched his thigh to steady yourself. He pulled the reigns and the horse came to a halt with a little skid. You immediately pushing yourself out of his lap and off his horse before he could help you, turning towards the ground to dry heave. He hopped off next to you "I'm so sorry, it was just too dangerous..." you raised your hand to stop him as you caught your breath. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he waited for you.

"Ice and fire..." you whispered. He could feel the cold sweat starting to form on his back. "The power of ice and fire!" You jumped to your feet and looked at him with wide eyes. He raised his hands slowly to calm you down "no, no, listen-"

"You are the cursed prince!"

He winced at the name turning his head to the side "well shit... I mean you no harm- mh!?" With the sharp pain on his chest he looked at you only to find you in his face, poking your finger in his chest accusingly "why didn't you say so!"

"...excuse me?" He inquired tilting his head to the side confused once again. "This is the part you run away, usually screaming, scared for your life." You looked at him mouth gaping "what are you talking about?! We've been looking for you everywhere!"

The flames danced tauntingly as you two stared each other down, each from one side of the bonefire. A bonefire you had pestered him to make using his own fire cause it was freezing cold. "Why would you be looking for me?" He urged on. You took in his form. Sitting up, back straight as a stick and legs folded underneath him neatly. "What do you mean? You are the lost prince!" You insisted making him glare at you. "I am exiled. I am cursed. What do you want from me?" You sighed hugging your knees tightly to your chest resting your chin on them wondering if he really didn't know. "You haven't been back home in a long time, have you?" You asked quietly and he softened up only a little. You continued without a reply "the 'king'," you scoffed "steals, tortures and kills. No one is allowed to stand in his way... he rules with an iron fist. And no one is safe. You are the rightful ki-"

"Stop. I'm a curse. I hurt people around me. Hell I even hurt myself." He vaguely gestured at his burnt face. "I am no one's king." He said firmly looking away from the fire. You watched him shocked at the hateful tone in his voice as he spoke of himself. "I'm a monster. If I were you, I'd leave me be as soon as I could." He got to his feet and stepped away from the fire and you to lie down on the flat floor with his back to you a little ways away. You watched his back for a while before staring into the undying flames, drowning yourself in your own thoughts. Anxious about what might've happend to your friends.

He woke up to the sound of struggle. It was silent, just the sound of something dragging and hitting on the ground of the forest behind him. He sat up and turned around. His eyes locked on a dark cloaked figure standing over what he suddenly realised was your struggling figure, kicking your feet and gasping dryly with a raspy voice. He shot to his feet, fire coming to life in the palm of his hand as he closed the distance between himself and the man and slammed his other hand, covered in a hard layer of ice in the intruders side. He jumped shouting in pain and staggering away only to be stopped by the flaming hand inches away from his face "let her go!"

"You are supposed to be dead!" The guy yelled back angry, and Shoto burned his shoulder as he grabbed onto it. "I said, let her go!" The man yelled in pain and tried to move away. "You get people around you killed. You kill them. Look at her! She is like this cause she was with you!" You clawed at the vine that had sprouted right underneath your head and was wrapped snugly around your neck, tightening ever so slowly. "Don't listen to him!" You managed only a quiet wheeze. "Shut up wench! Come with me and she'll live." Shoto looked clearly torn between listening to him or to you. He didn't know what to do. His head was racing as he lowered his hand from the guys face, the flames dying out slowly. "NO!" you wriggled gasping for air, and it received you a light kick to the legs "quiet! That's it boy. Don't struggle." The man reached out to grab him.

Shoto knew who these guys were. The secret puppets of the king who did his dirty work for him in the dark. Flashbacks of the day he had fled death by what could only be considered a miracle, flooded his mind and before he could stop himself his right hand slashed at the man, freezing him to the ground in an instant. He stared at the frozen man for a second but the sound of your quiet wheezes as your legs seized their kicking and your eyes rolled back in your head brought him to his senses. Hyperventilating as he dropped to his knees next to your head he tried ripping the vines off of you to no avail. "Oh fuck! What do I do?! (Y/n)! Please! I can't!..." he raised his shaky left hand grabbing the vine at where it's root had sprouted out of the ground. He had no choice. He couldn't watch you die... but what if he was the reason you would die? What if he burned you?... he grit his teeth and very carefully set his hand on fire. The vine started to burn off and released you of it's hold as you gasped for air, coughing and turning on your side. He sat back from you, watching you worried. It took you a while to catch your breath, staring at the ground as your vision unblurred. You took in a big gulp of air letting it out and sighing as your hand raised to rub at your sore neck. That's when Shoto couldn't keep quiet anymore "did I burn you?! I'm so sorry! I just couldn't do anything else! You are right to hate me, it's all my fault! I will leav-" you crawled over to him and despite him jerking away from you, your hand reached out and cupped his still warm cheek carefully "shhhh! I'm alright Shoto! You saved me! Again!" You laughed, your eyes betraying your expression, tears pricking the corners, and pulled him close, hugging his head to your chest. He resisted at first muscles tense as dry wood. "None of this is your fault! He was here for me, you just happened to be an extra treat. He would've killed me anyway if not for you!" Your fingers ran through his hair, smoothing it out, feeling him calm down and after a minute or so slowly slump down onto you when he stopped struggling against your hold.

It's been so long since he had last felt the safety and warmth of another's embrace, he just couldn't help nuzzling into you, not caring about the awkward way you two were positioned.

Your eyes moved from Shoto's head to the frozen statue standing just over the two of you, glaring at it hatefully as if he could ever see anything again.

Neither of you could sleep again after that so you decided to lead him to the place you and your little gang of misfits usually met up when seperated, a little hidden cave somewhere deep in the forest. In the way you decided to tell him why you guys were wanted, and hunted; how you were a group considered as dangerous to the throne and how you have decided to look for the lost runaway heir to help him get back in power. He still wasn't too on board with this part of your plan but your sweet talking had managed to get the rough edge off his nerves when he talked about his power. You convinced him, or it seemed so that you did, that for the most part he was in control of his 'powers', you refused to use the word curse. You told him If he sometimes lost control of it was because he had been suppressing it for too long. He needed to accept it as part of himself. He agreed but you couldn't tell if just to make you stop talking about him or genuinely agreed. You told him how there were people, like you, like Bakugou, like Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero and so many others who were born different, like Shoto. How you were all shunned and abused for it and how Shoto would be your saviour. He had asked about you, and you showed him your neck. Healed with no sign of any injury ever received wether bruise or burn. He looked at you in awe for a long time and you caught him stealing curious glances at you.

It was a long ride, full of talk, about him, about you, and by the time you reached the cave half a day later, you found yourself to have grown very close with Shoto.

When you got to the cave, much to your concern, there was no one there. But you decided to give it a little bit of time before getting too worried. You cleaned up around the inside of the cave to make it inhabitable for a while and Shoto tied his horse somewhere close by, making sure it had enough room to rest and eat, removing his saddle and brushing the dust off of it. He brought his saddle inside the cave setting it somewhere in a corner, eyes still watching you curiously. "We need wood for the fire." You said suddenly as you recreated the place for the bone fire, setting little stones back in the place of the old ones. "I'm going to go get some. You stay here and rest." You suggested, wiping your hands on your long skirt, heading out, not liking the idea of having to sit around in the darkness of the cave. "I'll come." he followed you and you turned to shoot him a smile.

The two of you wandered the woods nearby the cave and gathered wood and a bunch of edible fruits and berries. He was silent for most of the walk but he finally decided to voice his thoughts. The one that was bugging him since earlier. "Can you take away any kind of scar?" He blurted out and you paused to look up at him from where you were kneeling to pick berries. You watched him for a little while in silence, him fidgeting uncharacteristically under your gaze as he stared intently at the ground beneath his feet. You stood up and walked up to him his eyes unmoving. You cupped his left cheek softly, stroking your thumb over the burned skin. His eyes slowly moved up from the ground to yours, you smiled kindly at him looking apologetic "no, I can't do anything about old injuries." He sighed and looked to the side "pity." You turned his face back towards you "maybe, but I like it. It makes you, you." You leaned in and watched his eyes grow ever bigger before shutting tight as you traced your lips on the old scar right under his eye, kissing it gently and smiling at him when you pulled away. His face was almost matching his hair color now and his heart hammered against his chest rapidly. You giggled and he couldn't help himself. He leaned in pressing his lips onto yours firmly.

You froze in shock blushing furiously. And he pulled away after a few seconds a stuttering mess. "I'm so s-sorry! I don't know w-what came over me... please excuse my behaviour..." you blinked grabbing his collar with both hands making him go silent as he watched you anxiously "uh...(y/n)? Mph!" You pulled him back to you by his collar crashing your lips against his, kissing him fiercely. He got over his initial surprise rather quickly, hands moving up to your hips and the small of your back, pulling you closer while his lips moved against yours in sync.

You let go of his collar and slid your arms up around his shoulders, pressing your chest onto his as you pulled his head down towards yourself more, deepening the kiss and humming in content. He took a couple of steps forward and you found yourself backed into a tree. He leaned down low, slipping his hands over your curves and grabbing your thighs, pulling you up swiftly and wrapping your legs around his waist, not once breaking the kiss. You were the one who had to pull away to catch your breath, him trailing his lips down the side of your jaw and onto your neck, sucking the delicate skin between his teeth to nip on it lightly before licking and kissing over the abused, redening skin, drawing breathy little moans out of you. "I want you." He whispered by your ear as he sucked on the skin right behind it, making goosebumps rise on your skin. You whimpered, legs tightening around his waist pulling him closer to you. His hard on pressing into you as if his lustful confession needed confirmation. "Take me then." You moaned as you tugged on his hair so you could crash and mould your lips against his again. He groaned in response to your words, kissing you hungrily, his tongue swiping over your lips requesting entrance. Your lips parted letting his tongue slip past and into your mouth, whining as he took his time, slipping your skirt up over your legs and bunching it up around your waist, his now freed cock brushing against your inner thigh. He moved agonizingly slow as he pulled your underwear to the side, rubbed himself over your dripping core, slicking his length up on your wetness. It proved to be deliciously rewarding though, when he slowly started sinking his cock in through your warm hole. You gasped and he stopped moving, pulling away from the kiss and resting his forehead on yours, trying to catch his breath, shuddering from having to hold himself back from just pounding you senseless, your tightness wrapped around his head making him feel dizzy with lust. "Are you alright?" His voice was caring but sounded strained. You moaned, nodding your head, which only made him move deeper into you. You bit your lower lip, gripping his hair and tightly clawing into his clothes.

It took him a few more minutes to sink fully inside your heat, careful not to hurt you. His forehead was now resting on the tree behind you, giving you full access to his neck as you nipped and sucked on him to your heart's content, while you were getting adjusted to his size sheathed fully inside you. In retrospect, it wasn't a good idea, cause your lips and teeth on him like that almost made him lose it a few times. You started growing restless, legs tightening their hold around his waist as you clenched around his cock, making him growl in your ear, you shuddering and whimpering in response "move! Shotooo." you whined and he didn't waste a second, pulling away and thrusting back into you right away. You gasped sharply, mouth falling open in a silent cry, digging your nails into his shoulders. His lips were back on yours when you found your voice and started moaning and mewling loudly, eating up all your sounds eagerly, his thrusts never seizing in depth or speed, pressing your back further into the rough barks of the tree each time. You reached your limit first, fluttering and throbbing around him as you came over his cock, leaning your head back on the tree, arching into him, him kissing your neck and helping you ride it out. You were considerably louder as he chased his own release pounding into your oversensitive core over and over with erratic thrusts. Mewling and whimpering, it was almost too much for you; you gripped his hair tight and harshly tugged his head back to bite his jaw and neck. Surprised he hissed at the sharp pain and finally let out a deep moan as he released his load inside you, the warmth exploding deep in your core making you quiver with your second orgasm washing over you, as you clung to him tightly. He kept you up, resting his forehead on yours, watching you with tired loving eyes as you two caught your breaths still connected.

Once he couldn't stand on his feet any longer, he held you close to himself and away from the tree's harsh surface as he lightly dropped to his knees, pulling out of you and setting you down before hugging you tightly to his chest, face buried in the crook of your neck, fingers running through your hair in a soft caress. You nuzzled your face into his chest, rubbing your hands up and down his back soothingly. Both of you enjoying the comfortable calming silence engulfing the both of you in your afterglow.

"Make it go away."

"Hmm. Nah."

"(Y/n)."

"No, 'my' dear Shoto."

"The dog boy will not get off my back for the rest of my life..."

You laughed as you whirled around to look at his blushing face. As you two were cleaning up by the pond he had seen your not too small piece of work on his neck, turning a rather dark purple as it peaked from under his collar.

"He won't notice. Even if he does he is not unfamiliar with being marked. Kiri likes marking what's his. He will not bring it up." You pulled his head down and kissed his forehead.

When you got back to the cave the guys were all already back, Sero and Kaminari, a little beat but alive and well, relieving you of your concern. Not a scratch on Bakugou and Kirishima, as expected. You smiled as you sat with them deciding to introduce Shoto properly after they've all been settled and well rested.

"Oh shit, Todoroki! What happened to your neck?!" Kaminari's voice filled up the small space of the cave, drowning all your chatter into silence, eyes moving all on to Shoto. He sighed locking eyes with you.

"A wild cat attacked me."

Bakugou snorted into his drink as Kirishima grinned sheepishly, much to Sero's and Kaminari's confusion.

#todoroki shoto x reader #prince todoroki x reader #fantasy au todoroki x reader #fantasy au todoroki #shoto todoroki #todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader smut #bnha #fantasy au bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #todoroki shouto #todoroki Shouto x reader

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carriagelamp · 3 years

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April l was apparently the month for me to revisit some children’s authors who are steeped in controversy at the moment. So here’s my hot (well, lukewarm) takes on issues that absolutely do not need a single other person talking about them. Also some actual good books that I read this month!

Badger in the Basement

The Animal Ark books are a childhood classic — though I recently found out that apparently there’s a difference between American and British publications, and the American versions didn’t include a lot of actual COOL animals which is… bizarre. As a Canadian stuck in the middle of this, this nonsense drives me nuts. This one was about the main character, the daughter of pair of vets, trying to protect a local badger sett from men wanting to participate in badger digging and baiting. These books are always feel-good, and it was a nice single-day-read while I waited for a library book to come in.

Chi’s Sweet Home

The cutest manga series about the misadventures of a little kitten, Chi, who has been adopted by a loving family. I’ve never bothered to read them in order, but apparently this time I stumbled across the last in the series -- whoops! Still, stood on it’s own pretty easily, and it was a fun read! Things get tense when the family realize that they may have found Chi’s original home… and may have to give up Chi forever.

Earth Before Us: Dinosaur Empire!

This was an odd graphic novel, I feel like I’m not sure who the target audience was exactly. It was a nonfiction comic done in a Magic School Bus style, with the purpose of teaching current, up-to-date facts about the animals that lived in the Mesozoic Era. If you’re into dinosaurs, you’ll probably enjoy this! The art is absolutely adorable, I love the dinosaur illustrations, and I learnt some really neat facts. That being said, the pages are really dense, and there’s a lot of info crammed in… some of it will probably go way over a child’s head without specific additional teaching or a very strong personal interest. But that being said, a dinosaur obsessed kid is still probably going to really dig this… as would a dinosaur obsessed adult. It wasn’t my cup of tea exactly but I’m sure it is someone’s.

assorted Dr Seuss Books

I love these types of controversies because it means getting to listen to every moron who has never had an opinion on Dr Seuss ever start generating a mile of them out of the aether. So many people are so mad about the six books that are getting retired and I bet most of them haven’t even read them. These are not the friggin Cat In The Hat or The Lorax or even the likes of Yertle The Turtle. I was raised by a grade one teacher, was a voracious reader who loved Dr Seuss, and wrote my university thesis on children’s literature, and I still only knew two of the six books on that list. So by all means, if you want to write an essay explaining why those specific books are worth clinging to, feel free, but if you haven’t even heard of them maybe it’s not a big deal. *grumble*

Anyway, my grousing aside, it gave me the urge to reread a bunch of Seuss books, including the two retiring books I personally knew: McElligot’s Pool and To Think That I Saw It On Mulberry Street. I do still enjoy both, especially McElligot’s Pool which always sparked my imagination, but it’s obvious why they’re being retired and I personally think it’s the right choice. There’s so much good kidlit out there, we can survive without these.

Goodbye, My Rose Garden

A f/f romance manga, fairly standard fair though cute if you’re looking for some historical angst, pretty dresses, and mutual pining. A young Japanese woman moves to England in the hopes of meeting a writer (Mr Frank) who she has long admired. Along the way she is employed by an enigmatic woman with plenty of money, rumours, and melancholy following her. I’ll be honest, uncut romance isn’t really my genre, but I’ll probably still try to the second book to see if the story picks up.

From The Holocaust to Hogan’s Heroes: The Autobiography of Robert Clary

It’s no secret that I’ve been on a Hogan’s Heroes kick. This is the autobiography of Roberty Clary, who plays my favourite character in the show, Louis Lebeau. And holy shit what a life this man has had. He was a Jew growing up in France before the start of the war, and who was one of many children taken away from his family and sent off to the concentration camps in Germany. This was an amazing, intense, inspiring, and heartbreaking read… it has Clary’s voice all over it, and it tells everything from the charming childhood he had, to the horrors of the concentration camps, the brutality of survival, and then about his exciting journey into the entertainment industry afterwards. It’s an experience, would recommend if you’re a fan of the show.

The Ickabog

The second controversial author I read this month. Originally I was going to give Rowling’s new book a miss, given everything that’s been going on over the past few years, but in the end my curiosity got the better of me. Politics aside, it was a fun read! Not groundbreaking, but enjoyable enough and written in an interesting style. It didn’t read the same as a lot of modern kidlit, it felt more like a cross between a classic fairytale and a Dahl book. Perhaps a bit like Despereaux. It tells the tale of how an idyllic country gradually falls into ruin through the ignorance, inaction, and greed, and how a supposedly fictional monster hides the very real, human monsters at the heart of the country. It was cute and pleasant and I’m glad I decided to get it from the library, though for anyone who is choosing not to engage for political reasons: you aren’t missing anything major.

Franklin In The Dark

A Canadian classic. I don’t think there’s a single person my age who hasn’t read or been read a pile of these books, and the nostalgia is so comforting. I found this on Youtube and listened to someone read it to me, and honestly 10/10 would recommend for a calm evening.

The big reason I decided to seek this one out though, was because I finally got to the M*A*S*H episode that inspired this entire series! In the episode C*A*V*E, in which Hawkeye is freaking out over his claustrophia while the camp is forced to take shelter in a nearby cave during some intense shelling, he mentions that if he had been born a turtle he would have been afraid of his own shell, and that the other turtles would make fun of him cause he’d be forced to walk around in his underwear. And so this first story about a young turtle who’s afraid to sleep in his own shell and drags it around behind him. So if you were ever curious, Franklin the Turtle is in fact named after Dr Benjamin Franklin Pierce. (this is also why the French version is named Benjamin!)

Wolves of the Beyond: Lone Wolf

I loved the Guardians of Ga’Hoole books as a kid but I never read the Wolves of the Beyond series. This first book was an interesting read, Lasky does a great job creating worlds and societies for the animals that inhabit them. Lone Wolf is about a deformed wolf cub who was abandoned in the wilderness to die. And he would have, if a desperate mother bear, who had recently had her only cub killed, hadn’t stumbled across him and saved him, vowing to raise him as her own...

Petals

A “silent” graphic novel. It has beautiful artwork and is told entirely through pictures, no text at all. It’s loves and heart-wrenching, though it left me feeling somewhat unsatisfied… I felt like there should have been more. Still, a neat story.

The Southern Book Club‘s Guide To Slaying Vampires

What a banger of a novel!! I can’t recommend this one enough. It’s about a group of suburban mothers in the ‘80s who form a book club out of a shared need for community and a love of grisly true crime novels. But when a strange drifter appears in town and starts setting down roots… and when children begin disappearing… these women need to band together to confront the horrors that have invaded their neighbourhood, and face down not only a terrifying monster among them but the patriarchal system that allows it to flourish. To quote the preface:

“Because vampires are the original serial killers, stripped of everything that makes us human — they have no friends, no family, no roots, no children. All they have is hunger. They eat and eat but they’re never full. With this book, I wanted to pit a man freed from all responsibilities but his appetites against women whose lives are shaped by their endless responsibilities. I wanted to pit Dracula against my mom. As you’ll see, it’s not a fair fight.“

The Weirn Books: Be Wary of the Silent Woods

I love Chmakova’s graphic novels, though I’ve only ever read her slice-of-life middle grade series before. This one is pure fantasy and very fun. It’s about two cousin “weirns” — witches with demon familiars — who attend the local night school. Things get strange though when an ominous figure appears outside the old, abandoned school house deep in the Silent Woods, and begins tempting children down its path…

I’m very much looking forward to word of a second book and was honestly kind of surprised that I haven’t heard more about this book given how popular her other series is. This has all the same charm and quirks but for those of us who prefer stories based in fantasy rather than reality.

And A Bonus...

For some masochistic reason I got a Garfield book out of the library. Jeez, if I didn’t love these as a kid, I found them absolutely laugh out loud hilarious, and now I just don’t see it anymore. But here I will share the one strip in the book that actually made me laugh

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awesome-opossum-after-hours · 3 years

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(Encanto fanfic part 4, check my profile for the earlier parts!)

Mirabel knew she had to distract herself if she was gonna make it through the day. To get her brain out of its current heavy fog, she bounced between paths quicker than she was originally anticipating. This served as great adrenaline to keep her awake, but as soon as she stopped, Mirabel felt like collapsing. A few times, she even had to hide in a vacant corner of the house to try and stifle a coughing fit. But never the less, Mirab pushed herself forward. This is for her familia, it must go smoothly.

Mirabel had first followed her mom to her first stop, which was gifts from Luisa. Luisa had taken well to craftsman work, making items like new pots and pans for her mother, along with cookie cutters in various fun shapes that she had always wanted to try out. They weren't perfect, but Julieta was always a sucker for handmade gifts, especially those from her babies. Mirabel let out a horse chuckle, which turned into a wheeze, then into a few rough coughs, and led to Julieta rushing to her side.

"Corazón, what's the matter? Are you sick?" Her mother wore a worried look as she put her hand on Mirabel's shoulder.

Mirabel forced herself to quickly catch her breath again, and slightly pulled away as she noticed Julieta's hand raising to feel her forehead.

"Nope! Nope, not sick, everything's fine!" (she said for the millionth time today) Mirabel didn't even acknowledge what had just happened, and instead grabbed her mom's hand. Through the pain in her throat, she shouted, "Come on, Antonio's surprise is next!" and ushered Julieta to little Tonito, with his animals set up at a small table, an open seat at the head just for her. Abuela had helped him bake mini galletas, some for his animals and some for his tía, and brew some tea for a little tea party. This distracted Julieta long enough for Mirabel to slip away, slightly gritting her teeth as her headache grew stronger.

------

Pepa was receiving her gift from Camilo when Mirabel stopped by to see her. She watched this one from the doorway of the indoor breakfast room, not wanting to interrupt the sweet moment from her rarely sentimental cousin.

"Mami, know how much you love your teas, and how much you miss your old mug set, so-" he paused for a second to let Casita slide over six tea mugs and hid them behind Camilo, "I made you some new ones!" He revealed them to her with a big smile. Genuine, and unlike the ones that Mirabel used to see from him. Pepa was so delighted with her child's gift to her, that a proud little raincloud began to form over her head.

Camilo rambled, "I mean they're a little wonky, I had trouble with the pottery wheel...and Mirabel had to help me with the paint job, and-" Pepa squeezed him tight.

"Mijo, they're perfect!"

Mirabel, still watching the cute parent/child moment in slight secrecy, felt the familiar tickle again in her sinuses. And before she could try to muffle it, she let out a couple more loud sneezes. This, of course, made them aware of her presence. Then, all three of them became aware of the fact that Mirabel desperately needed a tissue, which was fetched for her by Pepa.

"Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to ruin the moment! Carry... *cough cough* on... *cough cough*-" Before she could say anything else, Pepa and Camilo were at her side with a steeping cup of Chamomile.

"Want some honey?" he asked. "Here, it'll soothe your throat a little." Mirabel gave a small smile and nodded.

"Ay cariña," Pepa began to fret about her niece, "your cheeks are so red! Here, why don't you come sit for a minute." She tried to guide her niece down to the couch for some rest. And Mirabel would've loved to, she knew how good it would feel for her pounding head, aching throat, sore joints- but she couldn't. No way, she had to keep going, the day was almost halfway over and there was still so much more to do.

She forced herself to regain some energy. "No thanks, Tía. I'm okay, really! Plus, I think Isa's ready with her surprise, you should go see!" A wave of dizziness washed over her as Mirabel spun around quickly past her aunt and cousin, cup of tea in hand, and left the room. She tried not to make it too noticeable, though it was hard to tell at this point if her efforts were successful.

#mirabel encanto #encanto fanfic #Encanto #fanfic #part 4

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seiin-translations · 4 years

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2.43 S1 Chapter 1.1: Young Yunichika

1. FIRST TOUCH

For this whole series, just imagine that everyone except Haijima is talking in dialect

Translation Notes

1. Itoko (従姉妹) is the Japanese word for cousin, so Kuroba’s itoko is Itoko, it’s a pun

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Continuing to fall almost nonstop since New Years’ Eve, the snow completely buried the school building right after winter break. It was just like a drifting classroom isolated in the gaps of space-time. The window glass that was pure-white with condensation cut off any connection to the outside world, and the air warmed by the stove amassed in the classroom without circulating. Steam rose gently from the brass basin that was placed on the stovetop, and the air near the ceiling appeared to flicker.

The old school building seemed to be creaking under the weight of the snow, and he was afraid that it was going to collapse, but it had held up every year without any problems. If only somewhere else in the school—like around the principal’s office—had been crushed flat, the talks of renovation would have proceeded quickly.

I mean, Grandpa can just make a donation. Should I try asking him seriously this time?

He thought that for a moment, but there was no doubt that he would have graduated by the time the new school building was completed, so that was a little silly. The middle school in the neighboring Suzumu City, which he had visited before at a town exchange event, was a new, clean, and sturdy reinforced concrete building, and the entire building was warm even though there were no kerosene heaters to be seen anywhere. He received a culture shock when he learned that the toilets were not cold.

I wanna be in high school soon, he thought vaguely. Since there were no high schools in town, you would have to go to Suzumu City for the closest one. However, the one year and three months until graduation was a length that could be called an eternity.

Fourteen years old. He had finally just started the third semester of his second year of middle school.

“The transfer student’s late, isn’t he?”

After performing the penance of opening ceremony in the frigid gym, Kuroba Itoko said and she hung her behind on the edge of his desk during the strangely slow waiting time after they returned to the classroom. “Heave ho,” she said as she wriggled her butt back to put her thighs on his desk, so Kuroba Yuni reflexively removed his chin resting in his hands on the desk and leaned back. This is just a bit embarrassing, oi… Even if all the female middle and high school students in the city did it, it was hard to understand why so many girls were shortening their skirts when the circumstances in this snowy country was different.

Itoko’s class was Class 2 next door, but she often made trips to Class 1. From entry to elementary school to middle school graduation, the faces in each grade didn’t change fundamentally, so everyone knew each other even though the classes were different. She seemed to have gotten some kind of information from the group of Class 1 girls who were still talking at the doorway even now.

That was right, a transfer student was arriving. There was no small amount of excitement in the air in Class 2-1 for the big event of the new semester, which was rarely encountered. It was a depopulating town where the number of people in school decreased, but rarely increased. What was more, apparently the transfer student was coming from Tokyo, so the expectations were high no matter what.

“I wonder if he’ll be cute. I hope he’ll be cute.”

“He has a normal face. Maybe a bit below normal.”

“You knew him until you guys were in senior kindergarten, right? He might have gotten cute.”

“I’m telling you, he didn’t. He’s going to be a pipsqueak with glasses who’s bad at sports. He became a wuss who’d get scared by this amount of snow...”

“What’s with you, are you sulking? You really are a little kid…”

“Shut up. I told you stop acting like you’re my big sister. The teacher’s coming soon so get back to your own class.”

As soon as he told her to stop, Itoko said, “Yes, yes, what a hopeless kid” with the utmost superior look on her face, shrugged her shoulders and jumped down from the table. Her short skirt fluttered lightly.

“I’m wearing underpants, so there’s no use peeking.”

“Did you make knitted panties? So ugly. I don’t get why you try so hard to look like that.”

“Being stylish is all about grit.”

Brushing aside the unintentional insult that rushed out of his mouth, Itoko slipped through the gaps between the messily aligned desks. Since she didn’t deny the knitted panties, did that mean that was true?

Kuroba Yuni and Kuroba Itoko had the same family name, but they were not siblings. It either made it confusingly similar or easy to understand, but…Itoko was his cousin. (1) They had the same grandfather and their fathers were brothers. She always acted like his older sister, but they were the same age, and since Kuroba was born in September and Itoko was born in October, he wanted to assert the fact that he was the one who was older.

She turned her miffed face away and rested her chin in her hands again. Kuroba’s seat was at very back by the window—until today. When he came to school today, a brand new desk and chair was brought in behind him.

He wiped the condensation on the window with his palm. Even when he cleared away the white film, all you could see beyond it was a blanket of white snow. The snow had stopped for now, but heavy snow clouds remained in the sky, and it wouldn’t be unusual if it started snowing some time again. There was a narrow path created from the school gate to the building sandwiched between walls of snow, but since the snow removal operation in the early morning, it had gotten buried again by the continuing snow.

He squinted outside the window to see if there was anything visible in the white. He was a slow and clumsy kid, so I hope he didn’t get stuck buried in the snow or something…

The truth was, Kuroba took pride in the fact that he was looking forward to the transfer student more than anyone else, a hundred or a thousand times more than Itoko or his classmates. Even though he was supposed to have finished moving house during winter break, he showed no indication of coming over to his house to show his face, so he was just a little frustrated about that and his excitement went down. They parted with each other in senior kindergarten, so it had been eight years. He wondered if he had been thoroughly steeped in Tokyo and forgot about this place.

Although, it wasn’t as if Kuroba remembered a lot either. He could remember meaningless episodes like what he did to get injured or what he did to get scolded, but as soon as he tried to systematically trace his memories, they became hazy. Like a snow scene that became misty with a glass that was already clouding over again—

In the midst of the white, he could see a flicker of something black moving.

Surprised, he half-rose to his feet and pasted himself to the window. There were two figures walking in the gorge between the walls of snow that seemed like they could collapse at any minute.

“…He’s here!”

He unintentionally exclaimed, and the miscellaneous chatter that filled the classroom quickly faded. There was a beat, and then shouts of joy rose. His more than thirty classmates surged towards the window and lined their faces.

The smaller figure, dressed in a stocky blouson down coat, was an old lady when he looked closer. So that means the other, bigger figure was…? Wait, how can he be that big…He was confused for a moment because he didn’t match his image of that kindergarten kid.

However, as soon as he strained his eyes and looked into his face, a warm-colored lantern lit up the snowy landscape of his white hazy memory, and a fresh image appeared in his mind.

“I’ll never forget you, Yuni… But, goodbye…”

Certainly, there was the face of a crying kindergartener who came to say goodbye to him while sobbing eight years ago. His pale face was drenched with tears, and even his glasses were wet. No matter how much he wiped them with his hands, large drops of tears continued to run down his cheeks, so much that he was worried that he was going to squeeze all the water out of his body.

That’s right, the glasses. He was already wearing glasses in kindergarten, and that might have helped giving him an introverted and quiet impression. Glasses and short and bad at sports. That was exactly his impression at that time. Once he remembered one thing, the vivid parts increased one after the other. One lantern lit a new lantern, and it became brighter and brighter.

Immediately, he stopped caring about how he didn’t come to see him over winter break or any of those small grievances. With impatient hands, he unfastened the screw lock on the window frame and threw open the window. The cold wind blew in and his classmates reproached him with “It’s so cold—“, but everyone’s voices bounced off him. Fine snowflakes blown up together with the wind struck his face. He shook his head and brushed away the snow.

“Chika!”

He leaned so far out the window that it looked like he was about to fall down and raised his voice.

The figure stopped and looked up. His eyes met his through thin-framed glasses. How will he react at first? His heart was beating fast from the anticipation.

He just reacted in such an indifferent way, like he just happened to exchange lines of sight with a stranger. He moved his face down without changing expression and disappeared into the shade of the eaves of the school entrance. The old lady who was left behind bowed slightly like she was troubled and followed after him, her snow boots making crunching noises.

Huh…? Did he…forget me?

Feeling let down, Kuroba stood stock still near the window. The two footprints that continued from the school gate were swept away by the white snow-mixed wind as the hanging lanterns that lit his memories went out with a puff.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“Haijima Kimichika-kun came from Tokyo. It seems that his grandfather’s house is in town, and he lived in Suzumu City until kindergarten. Perhaps some of you might know him.”

The gazes of everyone in the class was focused on the gangly school uniform standing at the teacher’s podium. How tall is he, it looks like he’s about the same as me? Kuroba thought absentmindedly as he stared at the small tip on the first stroke of “Hai” from the family name that was written vertically on the blackboard by the homeroom teacher. From among the three past elements of glasses, being tiny, and bad at sports, the glasses remained and pipsqueak disappeared. The remaining unknown was his motor skills.

He had a pale, smooth face and a rather neat set of features. If he had to decide between strong or weak, he would say they were weak. Depending on how you looked at it, they might look reptilian. At the very least, the characteristics of an idol-like pretty boy that Itoko had sweetly hoped for were nonexistent. To be frank, he seemed unfriendly. He still hadn’t smiled even once since he entered the classroom. He didn’t even try to look around at his classmates’ faces, just pursing his lips together and staring at his feet. Hmm, shyness?

“Kuroba-kun.”

Suddenly called on by the teacher, he made a stupid “Yeah?” sound.

“Haijima-kun played volleyball in his last school, so he will be joining the volleyball team. Please teach him about the team activities. Also, Haijima-kun’s eyesight is not good, but as you can see, he is tall, so you will move a seat behind. He will be the second from the back by the window.

Still without saying a word or even making a sound, Hajima nodded, took his bag and descended from the podium. Everyone’s interested gazes moved with his movements. As he turned twice at right angles and walked over to him without hesitation, Kuroba hurriedly got up as though to jump out of the way, and he put his bag on Kuroba’s seat with a thump before sitting down.

“Oh,” When Kuroba started to talk to him,

“…?”

He glared at him with a sideways glance, looking suspicious. What he placed on his desk was a somewhat stylish dark red backpack that looked like something from a school in the city, and had a somewhat stylish, unfamiliar school emblem embroidered on it.

“No…it’s fine.”

Kuroba took the seat behind his, thinking, Well, if he’s fine with it, then I guess it’s okay. Unlike his desk, which had scribbles carved all over it with a cutter, the desk prepared for Haijima was still brand new, the surface shining brightly.

“Hey, how tall are you? You’re seventy, right?”

He leaned over the desk, poked the back before him and started talking to him. Kuroba was 173 centimeters. He had heard that the average height for second-year middle school boys was around 160, so he was on the considerably tall side.

Haijima turned around, looking like he couldn’t be bothered. His narrow eyes glared at him again. A gaze where you couldn’t feel anything like charm or friendliness at all, as if all the temperature was absorbed while passing through the thin lens of his glasses.

“Your position?”

That was the first sound he made since entering the classroom. Similar to his eyes, the way he spoke made you wonder if he had thrown away all his charm and friendliness at a station on the express train ride here from Tokyo. His voice finished changing…maybe? He had a low voice that carried well. It was just a bit frustrating.

“On the volleyball team?”

Haijima raised his eyebrows and repeated his words when Kuroba was just staring at him vacantly. Huh? His intonation felt strange. He was speaking in standard Japanese. Has it always been that way? It shouldn’t be like that, though.

“Oh, oooh, that’s what you meant by position?” This guy talked in a way that lopped off the context before and after his words. “Well, let’s see, I feel like we didn’t really decide them…”

“You didn’t decide? What do you do in matches?”

“Matches? Ah…”

He hadn’t heard that word in a long time. After gaping like it was someone else’s problem,

“We’ve never been in a proper match. It’s a club of guys who only belong to it in name only, and the practice days are whenever. Look, you have to join a club here. Don’t you know that?”

An expression that actually looked like an expression appeared on Haijima’s face, it looked like. Though it was only slightly, his narrow eyes widened—is this shock? And then his eyes suddenly lowered, his mouth turning down at the corners. Is this sadness?

“Oh, was your old school really strong?”

Crap, I might make him cry. He didn’t really understand, but he felt that he said something wrong, and when he panickily tried to stay on topic,

“Tch…”

He heard that. No way, did he click his tongue just now?

“So you’re just uselessly big?”

He heard a sudden, unbelievable insult from the mouth of the transfer student, who one would think would be generally burning with the desire to build good relationships with the people at his new school. With that, Haijima abruptly faced forward and started emitting an aura of “Don’t ever talk to me” from his back. Kuroba could do nothing but stare at that amazingly obstinate back with his mouth wide open.

“I’ll never forget you, Yuni… But, goodbye…”

Which station did you lose the “Chika” from eight years ago who was sobbing because he didn’t want to say goodbye?

Previous || Index || Next

#2.43: seiin koukou danshi volley-bu #2.43 translation #2.43 book 1

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besanii · 4 years

Note

For the meet cute prompts. Number 40 with whatever pairing takes your fancy, from whatever media. I'm just happy to be here

#40 You help catch their hat as it flies away in the wind.

Wei Wuxian clambers up the steep hill after a giggling Wen Yuan, one hand clapped over the hat on his head to prevent it from flying away. His long hair had been tied into a high ponytail and tucked into his hat so that it wouldn’t get in his face, but it meant that the hat itself didn’t sit on his head properly anymore. Which is fine, he just needs to be more careful.

“Xian-gege! Hurry!” Wen Yuan yells from the top of the hill, waving both his arms above his head. “Faster! Come on!”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” he calls back, but still obediently picks up his pace, jogging the rest of the way. He nudges Wen Yuan with his hip. “Why are you in such a hurry, A-Yuan? We’re not missing out on anything.”

Wen Yuan grabs his hand and starts tugging him along, his whole face scrunched up with the effort even though Wei Wuxian barely budges.

“Xian-gege,” Wen Yuan whines. “Come ooooon, we’re gonna miss it!”

“Miss what?” Wei Wuxian says, laughing as he allows himself to be led along the path that winds further up the hill towards the cliff. “I don’t see anything here, A-Yuan. What are we looking for?”

“Gege!”

“I’m coming, oh my god A-Yuan, you’re going to fall over if you keep yanking me—my hat!”

Wen Yuan stumbles, which makes Wei Wuxian stumble in an attempt to not completely flatten the child, his free hand flailing in the air for balance. The hat that already been precariously perched on top of his head goes flying with the next gust of wind. Wei Wuxian digs his heels in to stop Wen Yuan from moving and turns around to try and find it, and is whipped in the face by his own hair as a result. He groans and tries to brush it back from his face when Wen Yuan lets go of his hand and takes off running.

“Gege!”

“A-Yuan!” Wei Wuxian splutters through a mouthful of hair. “A-Yuan, come back here right now!”

He starts to chase after Wen Yuan, but he only gets about ten steps when he sees him coming back towards him, hand-in-hand with an unfamiliar man. Wen Yuan is chattering away as he bounces at the man’s side, his little face lit up with excitement. The man says very little, but there’s a fond smile on his lips as he slows down his pace to allow Wen Yuan to keep up.

“A-Yuan!” Wei Wuxian shouts as they get within earshot. His voice carries louder than he’d intended and he sees Wen Yuan wince. He immediately feels guilty, closing the distance between them in long strides and crouching down to Wen Yuan’s eye level. “A-Yuan, you scared me. Don’t go running off like that again, okay?”

Wen Yuan’s lower lip trembles. “Sorry, Xian-gege.”

“Aiyo,” Wei Wuxian sighs, reaching out to ruffle his hair. He really can’t stay mad at that cute little face! “Just don’t do it again okay?”

“Okay,” Wen Yuan agrees with a sniffle. He giggles wetly and squirms when Wei Wuxian pinches his cheeks. “Xian-gege stop it!”

He dodges Wei Wuxian’s hand and hides behind his companion’s leg, which reminds Wei Wuxian that they’re not alone. He gets to his feet and dusts himself off before turning to the other man with a wide grin.

“Hi, sorry about A-Yuan,” he says. “He wasn’t bothering you, was he?”

His voice trails off as he registers the man’s face and holy shit he’s gorgeous. And tall. Wei Wuxian has to tilt his head up to look into his face, only to be stunned by a pair of sharp, almost amber-coloured eyes. He’s never seen eyes like those before. The man looks down at Wen Yuan and smiles.

“No, A-Yuan isn’t a bother,” he says. “We’ve met before.”

Wen Yuan nods eagerly.

“Gege can fly a kite!” he tells Wei Wuxian. “Gege is the best!”

“Really?” Wei Wuxian says with exaggerated surprise. “But I thought I was your favourite gege!”

Wen Yuan bites his bottom lip and frowns, deep in thought. Wei Wuxian glances at their companion with a wink and sees the tips of his ears redden slightly. Finally, Wen Yuan shuffles forward and grabs hold on Wei Wuxian’s jeans with one chubby hand, the other still wrapped around the other man’s leg.

“Rich-gege is the best gege,” he says. “But Xian-gege is still my favourite gege.”

“Alright, you’re forgiven.”Wei Wuxian snorts, ruffling Wen Yuan’s hair. “Being your favourite gege is worth losing my hat for.”

“Oh.” The man holds up Wei Wuxian’s hat with his other hand. “This is yours?”

Wei Wuxian takes it from him with a relieved sigh.

“Yeah, thanks for picking it up,” he says gratefully. “I swear this wind will be the death of me. Or my hair, actually.” He jams the hat on his head. “And sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Wei Ying, Wei Wuxian. I’m a friend of A-Yuan’s cousins. I babysit him sometimes.”

He holds out his hand. The other man takes it in his, wrapping long fingers around Wei Wuxian’s and pressing their palms together.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Wangji.”

They both look down at the insistent tug on their legs. Wen Yuan pouts up at Lan Wangji.

“Gege, you promised to show me how to fly a kite next time,” he says. “It’s next time now. Can we fly kites now? Please? Please?”

“A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian admonishes him. “We don’t even have the right stuff to fly a kite! Sorry, Lan Zhan, don’t worry about it—”

Lan Wangji coughs. “Actually, I brought it with me in my car. I can go back and get it now.”

Wen Yuan cheers, jumping up and down on the spot. Wei Wuxian rubs the back of his neck with an embarrassed chuckle.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” he asks Lan Wangji, who shakes his head.

“It would be my pleasure,” he says. He rests a hand on the top of Wen Yuan’s head and the boy stills immediately. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Wei Wuxian watches as he walks back down the hill to his car and sighs. Wen Yuan latches onto his leg and props his chin on his knee with a grin.

“Xian-gege, your face is really red,” he whispers loudly.

Wei Wuxian sticks his tongue out at him. “Hush, you.”

Wen Yuan buries his face in Wei Wuxian’s leg and giggles.

// buy me a ko-fi //

#mdzs #wangxian #my writing #meet cute meme #feat. a yuan #just some cutesy stuff #again #when are they not cute tbh #i did not write the kite flying thing because i don't know how to fly a kite haha #but they fly a kite together #and LWJ's one is a rabbit (ofc)#he gives it to A Yuan as a present #which threatens WWX's position as Favourite Gege #but he's hot so WWX will forgive him

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brelione · 4 years

Text

Field Trip With A Rich Bitch ll (Rafe Cameron X Reader)

Warnings:Ward Cameron,Mentions of Arsenic Poisoning,Mentions of heavy drugs,mentions of bipolar disorder,mentions of death,Rafe being too tall for every day life

He raised his eyebrows. “Where?”He asked.You rolled your eyes,wishing you had a bottle of wine to take a swig from in that moment. “What?You scared you’re gonna get mud on your shoes?”You asked.He sighed,scratching the back of his neck. “How far away is it?”He asked. “Nevermind,rich bitch,clearly you don't want to know the truth about your father.”You went to turn around but his hand grabbed your wrist quickly. “No,no it's not like that...I just wanna know where we’re going.”He mumbled.You pulled your hand from his grasp,staring down at him. “Come on,then.”You told him,beginning your walk outside the garage.His bike was nearly done,scratches holes and dents gone.The last thing to fix was the seat which wouldn't take long at all.He grabbed his phone,sliding it in his pocket.

He followed you out of the garage,waiting with his hands in his pockets as you pulled the garage door shut,bending over to place a lock on it.You could feel him staring at you. “Stop being a perv.”You grumbled,clicking the lock shut and stood back up.You could see the red blush on his cheek,spreading down his neck and ears.He was so easy to fluster.It was hilarious.Rafe had beat the living hell out of multiple teenagers,made some children cry with a glance and came from one of the most powerful families.But here you were,bossing him around,making him blush and causing him to stutter out apologies.You had that power over most people.Some kooks called you a demon and you embraced it.Most people didn't know it but you had the word tattooed on your thigh with two devil horns hovering over it.You were manipulative,assertive and strong.

You had the charm and the looks to get people to like you without knowing you and you had the glare that made the hair on the back of people’s necks stick up straight.You hadnt always been like that,only becoming this emotionless ball of rage after Ward Cameron had destroyed everything that made your life worth living.The beautiful thing was you had Ward Cameron’s one and only son wrapped around your finger and there was nothing he could do about it.Rafe was deprived of attention.Not only was Ward a terrible person but a terrible father as well.Rafe was desperate for attention now and if you gave him the attention he wanted he was all yours.You knew that and deep down he knew it too. “We’ll take the woods,I can't risk being seen with you.”You walked around the back of the garage.It was a steep hill full of rocks and some poison ivy.You knew where not to step and Rafe did his best to step the same places you did.You were pretty far ahead of him,around ten feet.Down the hill was a narrow pavement trail,cracks and holes all over it. “Anyone ever told you that you walk slow for a tall person?”You asked.

He grinned to himself,trying not to fall while also trying not to hit his head on any branches. “How long do you think we’ll be out for?”He asked.You shrugged. “Maybe an hour.”You replied,walking along the narrow pavement.Rafe wasn't used to being in the woods,at least not this deep in the woods,he was jumping at every noise. “Do you think that was a wolf?” “No.” “Did you hear that?” “No.” “Oh my god-what if there's a dead body out here?” “Rafe.We’re going to a cemetery,if there are no dead bodies then that would be a problem.” “I hate cemeteries.” “Well that sucks for you.” As you were coming to the end of the narrow pavement into the grass Rafe jumped from the crunch of a twig,grabbing onto you and pulling you to his chest.You stood stiff,his arms tightening around your waist as he listened for more sounds. “Are you going to let go of me or will I have to drag you?”You asked.He let go of you with a huff. “Do you think we should head back?”He asked.You sighed.

This was what you got from bringing a kook into the woods. “You're such a pussy.”You sighed,continuing your walk.He kept kicking the back of your heel by accident because he was so close behind you.You two walked onto the grass,looking across the field at the gravestones,benches and statues.He had come here a few times for late night drug deals and drinking with Kelce and Topper.It was a creepy old place that always made him shiver.Beer cans and red solo cups littered the ground from his previous trips here.You sighed as you looked across the graveyard to one corner,the one furthest away.He watched as you began your walk across the field.Most of the graves were covered in pollen and dirt splotches,the grass almost as tall as the stones themselves.It was gross and unkept and smelled like weed and cheap beer from gas stations.His feet were sinking into the mud,causing him to grumble something about how annoying it would be to clean them.He dragged his feet as he followed you to one large stone with vines growing up the sides.There were muddy streaks across the names like someone had tried to wipe it clean with a dirty hand.

“Rafe,meet my parents.Mom,Dad meet the rich bitch.”You sighed,standing in front of the grave.Rafe’s eyes widened,his chest tightening.You grinned at his reaction. “What?”You asked.He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.What was he even supposed to say?Sorry your parents are dead and ended up in this shitty cemetery.Sorry I dealt cocaine by your parents grave.Sorry half those beer cans are mine. “Close your mouth Rafe,you look like a trout.”You smirked.He closed his mouth,gulping and tapping his leg nervously. “I bet you’re wondering what your dad has to do with this.”You spoke,observing his expression.He nodded,looking at the date on the grave.They had both died on the same day of 2004 which meant you were only two years old at the time. “You ever wonder how your father got all that money in the first place?Cause I can tell you it's definitely not whatever bull shit story he’s been telling everyone.”You used the sleeve of your yellow shirt to wipe the dirt off your parents’ names.He bit the inside of his cheek,waiting for you to continue.

“Your dad was a dealer.He was my parents dealer.Im not talking about weed either,I mean the heavy shit.Heroin,crack,xanax.What kind of asshole deals xanax?Anyways,he sold to my parents and when they tried to get off the stuff he convinced them to keep buying from him.When they found my ma’s body they found that same heavy shit in her system.But here’s where the story gets really interesting.Not only did they find the heroin but guess what they found.Guess.”You ordered him.He blinked,glancing between you and the grave. “I-I dont know.”He mumbled.You nodded. “Arsenic.Your shitty father poisoned the drugs he gave my parents.WHo does that?”You sighed,flicking a bug off of the grave stone.He bit his lip as he took in this new information. “And he didnt get arrested or charged or anything?”He asked.

You laughed. “What do you think?You think Sarah Cameron would exist?You think you’d live in that big house with all of that nice stuff and your fancy ass gold plated spoons?No.None of that would be possible if your father got what he deserved.You know what your father got?A nice house,millions of dollars,a handsome son and multiple yachts.Thats what he got after killing my parents.You know what I had to grow up with?A one bedroom house with three cousins and a bipolar aunt.Thats what I got.”You ranted,tears stinging in your eyes as you got louder and louder.He didn't say anything,scared that only squeaks would come out.You bit your lip to hold back to the tears,the water leaking from your eyes and down your cheeks as you laughed. “And now my aunt and my baby cousin are dead too!”You gestured to the grave next to you. “And you know what else?I've had to work for 12 years of my life and you know where I live?In a shitty house thats falling apart and all I do is work on cars and bikes every single day and I cant even feel my hands anymore and I have fucking broken toes from kneeling all day and I cant even afford to go to a fucking hospital.And the only person that I can blame is your dad.”You wiped the tears from your face with your sleeves,smearing dirt across your cheekbone.

His bottom lip quivered,fingertips going numb as he listened to you.Something compelled him to step forward,grabbing your waist gently and pulling you into a hug.You did not fight him.If it were under any other circumstances then telling him that his father had been a drug lord,killed your parents,ruined your life and caused you to work every day of your life then maybe you wouldn't have accepted the hug.You never thought you’d be hugging Rafe Cameron,or any kook for that matter. “I can um...I can bring you to the hospital to get your toes fixed.”He offered.You laughed into his chest,getting tears on his shirt. “Wow,thanks.”You whispered,laughing again.He gulped,resting his chin on your head.It seemed that you had both needed a hug.You were holding onto him so tightly,holding fistfulls of his shirt in your hands.He hadnt hugged anyone in years and it seemed that you hadnt either. “Do yourself a favor and don't turn into your father.And if you keep going down the path you’re going down now then you’ll end up just like my parents.”You sighed.He frowned.

You sounded like one of those commercials of people staring at the camera with crocodile tears running down their faces as they talked about some loved one who had died and how drugs weren't the answer.You probably didn't know though,it wasn't like you could afford cable.He just nodded,knowing you did not need his attitude right now. “(Y/N).”He mumbled.You hummed,closing your eyes.You didnt cry often and never in front of people but when you did cry it stung like hell.You couldn't exactly rub your eyes with your fingers either because they had traces of oil and chemicals. “What if we piss my father off and get him to confess to the murders?”He asked.You sniffled,looking up at him with puffy eyes. “How?”You asked.

Part Three will be up this weekend!

@gabbismith

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #jj maybank #kiara carrera #pope heyward #ward cameron #sarah cameron #john b

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hebescus · 4 years

Text

some things stay forever somehow

eyyy it’s the 4th day!

this was actually a scrap, i sent the rough version of it in the 7K discord server and they liked it??? so i just decided to fuck it, i’m taking this seriously so here we are. Enjoy this unecessarily oddly detailed lil piece.

@alistairwrites here’s my lil piece i hope you enjoy it!

—

The wind blew through his hair, the warm ambience and the crackling fire sound relaxing him as he absentmindedly leaned to his cousin’s side. Varian always loved campfires, there’s something oddly familiar about their warmth, it felt like he just belonged there, in front of the crackling fire. Campfires always gave him this odd feeling of longing, yearning, but fulfilled at the same time. And he always craves that feeling.

That’s why he was really excited when Eugene–his cousin–asked him to join a small camping event together. He knew nobody but Eugene and Rapunzel–his girlfriend. It was a college event after all, and he was still in senior high school. Plus, socializing wasn’t the reason why he came, so he didn’t bring himself to care.

So far, the first night was nice. Eugene and Rapunzel introduced him to a few of their friends and he actually really liked them. He cried laughing by Lance’s story, he had a great time discussing things with Cassandra’s critical and smart opinions, and more. Well, they were obviously different from Nuru or Yong who were his age but he had a great time with them.

“You seemed really intrigued with campfires, kid. Care to share something?” He snapped out of his daydream to find Lance sat on the ground next to him, he didn’t even realize Eugene left a minute ago. He smiled, warmth crept on his body thinking about all the feelings he felt.

“I don’t know…it just felt like I belonged here. I always want to come back, I feel satisfied to be here. But at the same time I…I long for something, there’s like something’s missing but I don’t- ah, I don’t know Lance,” he rambled. Lance gave him a nod as if a sign that he wanted Varian to continue. “I love the warmth, the noises, the ambience…I never felt better when I’m here, It’s confusing, really, I don’t even know why,”

“Hmmm, I see,” Lance answered. His eyes fixated on the burning woods a thinking expression. “I know this might be craaazy for you, but someone from my orphanage once said that if you feel some kind of familiar, longing, addicted feelings about certain something or situations, that means you have a special experience with them in your past life,”

“That sounds like a kids bedtime story if you ask me,” Varian shrugged but he immediately felt bad for being a little bit ignorant, so he corrected his words, “I mean, that’s real sweet, but-”

“Well, I’m not finished yet! They even said that you met someone that makes you feel more connected to the situation, and the longing feeling just gone, that means they were connected to that situation in the past and was important to you,” he continued. “They even called it soulmate, if you even believe in one,” Lance raised his eyebrow, a confusing look between agree or disagree with that statement. And Varian…well, he just cringed. Hard.

“Yep, I don’t like how that sounds,” Varian laughed. “But that’s just my personal opinion, I don’t really believe in that kinda stuff,” Lance hadn’t given him any clue whether he actually agreed with that statement or not, after all.

“Ah, it’s fine, really. A science based guy like you must like something logical, right?” Varian nodded and gave him a small smile before he continued. “I mean, that’s just a little thing you gotta plant in your head because who knows? Maybe it’s real, we just haven’t found out just yet,” he said with an unreadable soft expression. Eugene was not wrong when he said Lance was their dad friend. After that, someone called Lance for help and then he was alone again with his thoughts and the campfire.

“Shit- hey!” Varian’s silence was distubed by a squeal from behind him. He looked back and saw a man being strangled by a wild raccoon who looked like he was trying to steal a fish kabob from the man’s hand. He couldn’t see them clearly–thanks to the night lighting–but he could make out what’s going on. “Ey! Get off me!”

“Uh hey! You…alright?” Varian wasn’t really into the idea of talking to people that’s not introduced by Eugene or Rapunzel, but the man seemed like he needed a little help.

“Can’t you see?! This little- ugh, creature trying to steal my last kabob!” He answered while trying to balance his food and fight the raccoon off. Varian chuckled at that sight, reconsidered his childhood dream of wanting a pet raccoon.

“I think you should just give it to him,” Varian laughed.

“Are you crazy?! This is my las-” Varian cut him off by holding up a plate full of kabobs that Rapunzel gave him earlier.

“Not a big fan of fishies so…you want some?” The man grinned, quickly dropped his kabob to the ground and let the raccoon eat it as he practically ran towards the other boy.

“Oh God, yes, this is like- very good, thank you-” the man said as he snatched the plate out of Varian’s hand, immediately chewing the vegetables and sat next to the blue eyed boy.

Varian took a proper look at him as he ate. He didn’t look much older than him, he had a strong jawline and sharp looks on his face, circular glasses hung on his nose, blond hair neatly tied above his undercut, and…he looked kinda attractive for some reason? Or maybe he just liked the way that faded green sports jacket clung on his white printed tee and ripped blue jeans that complimented his long legs- and why the hell you care so much about that, Varian?

“Listen, I know I’m hot, but staring at people who’re eating is rude,” the man said with furrowed eyebrows, still chewing his food. Varian would think it’s kinda cute if he didn’t just call him rude.

“Is it though? I’m sorry then, I never saw anyone being attacked by a raccoon for a freaking kabob before,” he shrugged playfully. The older just laughed, Varian nearly thought he got a special connection with kabobs because God damn, he inhaled it.

“Well, I’ve never seen you before, hairstripe. Are you new or something?” The man asked, already on his last skewer. Varian was confused by the nickname for a bit before he realized that it’s probably from the blue streak. He dyed it two years ago and still refused to change it.

“No serious business, I just love camping- Well, actually, I’m just joining my cousin, Eugene. You know him?” he shrugged, but then he realized he haven’t introduce hims-

“Yes, of course. That means you’re…uh, what is it- ah! yes, Varitas?”

“Actually, it’s Varian,” Varian tried to not roll his eyes and let out a chuckle instead.

“Ohh, yeah, Varian- I’m sorry. Flynn talked about you a bunch of times,”

“Flynn?”

“Yeah, that’s…kind of an inside joke nickname we gave him,” he answered, placing the empty plate on the ground. “Well, nice to meet you, freckles. I’m Hugo, your cousin’s partner in crime,"

—

The first night went very well. They kept talking to each other until it was late. Late enough that everyone who’s playing games with them at some point went back to their tents, someone even gave the leftover kabobs–luckily for Varian, it was chicken–before she headed off to her tent. The raccoon came back, Hugo reluctantly shared some vegetables with them while Varian laughed and randomly decided to name them Ruddiger, which ironically is Varian’s middle name.

That night, Varian learned that Hugo was only a year older than him. He was a freshman, the youngest person in Eugene’s circle–they knew each other from being in the same basketball club. He also learned that Hugo majored in science, just like he wanted to be. He loved camping for the campfires just like Varian. Although, he learned much more about the older from his observation. He loves calling people with nicknames, he had this unique trait such as naming most of his stuff, he would snuggle on his jacket when the wind got chilly, he would scrunch his nose when he disagreed about something, and he was really smart. He didn’t know why he paid that much attention to the little details, but for now, all he can say is that he was indeed interested in this guy.

—

The second night rushed in. They were exhausted from all of the fun activities they did in the day with some friends. They went swimming, played a bunch of sports, they even had a little acoustic session at sunset. But at the end of the day, they would sit there in front of the campfire, Varian with his comfortable beanie and Hugo with his warm jacket.

"Today was really fun, don’t you think?” Varian asked softly. His thought ran around the events that happened that day. It gave his stomach some funny feelings. It started when Hugo gave him his shirt after swimming–no one told Varian to bring any backup clothes. He swore he saw a pink tint on his cheeks and a really soft little smile on his lips before a friend turned his attention away from the younger. Then their hand would brush against each other while trekking, occasionally interlocked them together on a steep path. He also still remembers when Hugo hugged his head and yelled at his friend for accidentally hitting Varian’s head with a volleyball. He somehow couldn’t get enough of the feeling of his fingers on his hair.

And then the little acoustic session. Oh God, he didn’t know what to feel about that. He was challenged by Cass to sing because she knew he didn’t like to sing in public. He didn’t care that much at first, but once the first line came out of his lips, Varian just lost his ability to speak. Who knew that the kabob guy he met last night had an extremely angelic voice. It was a really romantic song and the fact that Hugo kept staring at him the whole time just made his heart stop. He is in fact no head over heels for the guy he just met last night, right?

“Yeah it is. I don’t feel like going home tomorrow,” he frowned. “I just want to be here…in the middle of whatever forest is this, by this campfire and the warmth- just doing nothing and…talking to-you. It’s nice to have a campfire company like you, hairstripe,”

Varian’s stomach went weird again and his freckled cheeks went slightly pink. But immediately fought it off with a little ‘thank you’ and changed the topic and had a whole new, endless conversation again.

One thing that he realized is that the more they talked, the warmer he got. He could feel this odd yet familiar kind of comfort and connection that somehow he only got when Hugo was around and he only knew him for one day.

It was nearly three in the morning when one of Hugo’s friend came out of his tent, scolding them for being out so late and just initiated to extinguish the fire- for some unknown grumpy reason.

But that didn’t stop them from talking about a random meme on Varian’s phone that got them laughing a little too loudly. Varian then started to ramble about this funny childhood story that was connected to the meme, when a rush of cold wind made his body shivers. He tried to fight it off by keeping on talking, but Hugo noticed that.

“You cold, hummingbird?” Hugo asked, starting to take off his jacket.

“A little, but it’s fine,” however, his body couldn’t lie as he tugges his short sleeves begging for some warmth.

“And you think I would believe that?” The older chuckled, shoved his jacket to the other’s chest.

“How about you-” he was cut by Hugo’s facepalm as he T posed and showed every side of his hoodie.

“I have layers, bean,” the blond said smugly while his hand slightly fixed the younger’s beanie. Varian smiled and put the jacket on. It was the second clothing that Hugo borrowed him but this one is definitely better than the shirt. It smelled like…Hugo. He didn’t know how to describe it, but he enjoyed it,

Maybe a little too much.

—

He decided that he didn’t want to be away from that blond boy. It was only two days but he swore he really really liked him. Yes, he finally admitted it. The second that jacket was clung on his body, he knew all the feelings just crashed together. And he was scared, because right now everything was packed and they were all ready to go home. He stared at the older’s back who’s laughing with his friends and carrying supplies to a car. He really didn’t want him to go.

Varian tugged the green jacket closer to his body, trying to memorize every warmth before he gave it back. He took a deep breath and walked towards Hugo.

“Uh, Hugh,” he called nervously.

“Oh, hey there, hairstripe. Need help with something?”

“Umm, no, I just want to say thank you…for these past two days, I really, really enjoyed it. It’s been nice to know you,” he smiled softly as his fingers started to unzip the jacket and take off the jacket. “And I guess you left your-”

“No, please keep it,” Hugo cut him off, his hand gripped the left pocket of the jacket and halted the younger’s move. “Olivia looks good on you,” Oh, did he mention that his favorite jacket was named 'Olivia’? Because Varian thought it was adorable.

He was about to thank him when the older stepped closer and pecked his lips softly, leaving him absolutely breathless and flustered.

“See you later, goggles,” Hugo smiled, walking away from Varian and approached his friends. He had so many thoughts but the last nickname was kind of confusing. He called him sweet cheeks, blue, hairstripe, freckles, shortstack, bean, hummingbird, but where did goggles come from? It was weirdly…familiar. It was the same weird feelings with the sudden connection he got with that boy.

He stayed silent on the road. Thinking about that handsome prick who stole his heart just like that, thinking about his lips on his own and how it should be longer than just a single peck, thinking about their connections, his weird last nickname…his head just screamed 'Hugo, Hugo, Hugo’ and he loved it. He loved every single thought about him.

Once he got home, he quickly greeted his dad and changed his clothes. He was about to hang the jacket to the back of his door when a piece of paper fell from the left pocket.

'xxx-xxx-xxxx,

Would you mind for another talk, sweet cheeks?

Love, Hugh’

He smiled at the paper like he never smiled before then he jumped around his room and quickly grabbed his phone. One thing he realized when he was typing the number; the second he laid his eyes on Hugo, the longing feeling of the campfire just gone, replaced by a satisfied, fulfilled warmth and connection that made the campfire felt better and better when he was around.

Guess Lance’s little story wasn’t a bedtime fairytale anymore.

—

The air was cold, but the fire warmed their body as they leaned on each other’s side. Nuru and Yong were fast asleep in their tents, tired from the long day of journey plus the challenging trial.

“Hugh,” the younger called, intertwining his hand with Hugo’s, today’s event brought their feelings together and they could never be more grateful. “If you can keep a moment forever with you. What would it be?”

“Forever?”

“Yeah, forever,”

“It’s pretty simple actually,” the older answered with such sweetness in his voice. “It would be now,”

“Uh…what do you mean by 'now’?” Hugo laughed at his lover’s obliviousness.

“To be here with you…in the middle of whatever forest is this, by this campfire and its warmth- just doing nothing and…talking to-you. It’s really lucky of me to have a company like you, hairstripe,” he answered softly.

“That’s…what I want to be kept forever too, even if we have another life I want this kind of moment to stay,” he slightly cringed at his sudden sappiness but he was too in love to care. “I love you,” he whispered as he leaned in to kiss the older.

“I love you too, goggles”

#varigo #varigo appreciation week #varigo week 2020 #alchemy boyfriends #varian the alchemist #tts varian #hugo the human #tts hugo #tangled the series #varian and the 7 kingdoms #varian and the seven kingdoms #vat7k #vatsk #varigo fic #fic #my fic #my writings

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make-it-mavis · 4 years

Text

Homesick (Entry #14)

(cw: drug withdrawal, vomiting) <-Previous ----------

01/02/88 1:34 PM

Hey.

Can’t believe I’m still going to all the effort of writing this dramatic, emotional crap down while you’re not even here to be uncomfortable about it with me. This is so unnatural. But I keep coming back to it, so…

Showering felt good. I wasn’t too happy about smelling like Fix-it’s bath products, but clearing away the grime was therapeutic in its own small way, especially since my skin was smooth and intact again. No dirt, no blood, no wounds, no outward evidence that anything had happened to me at all.

The feeling of cleanliness was tragically short-lived, however. I’d barely finished drying off before my skin clammed up and my body felt wrapped up in a hot, wet blanket. Boost withdrawal had snuck up on me, hiding behind other, much bigger stressors. Fix-it would soon regret lending me his disturbingly comfortable, silky, immaculately free-of-his-cousin’s-sweat pajamas.

I was in for a long night.

When I left the bathroom, I found Fix-it sitting on the couch next to a folded-up blanket and some pillows, looking thoughtful or troubled or something inexplicably annoying. He straightened up the second he saw me, and gave a wobbly sort of smile. “Did it do ya good to get clean?” he asked, painfully awkwardly.

I just grimaced, waist-deep in withdrawal, not loving the irony in his question.

I sat next to him, leaned my head back, and put a cold, wet hand towel that I’d nicked from the bathroom over my face. It relaxed me a bit, but relaxing wasn’t much of an improvement. My idle mind had no safe path to wander, no distraction other than my climbing fever. So I resorted to focusing on that, and let myself sink like a rock into that post-Boost depression. I needed a hit so badly. I just imagined that sweet electric rush dissolving the withdrawal, blowing away the fog over my senses, charging me back up with fierce courage so I could get back out there and face the arcade. Thinking about a remedy only made me feel sicker, but I didn’t care. More sickness meant more distractions from… other things.

I was in for a really long night.

It wasn’t until Fix-it said “Mavy..?” that I realized he had been talking. Silently asking the Devs why he was still trying to have a conversation with me, I replied with a grunt.

Assumedly repeating himself, he said carefully, “I just wanted to say thank you… You know, for… trusting me.”

I figured he was kind of putting words in my mouth, but whatever. I was willingly staying in his home, so he wasn’t completely wrong. But I knew he really meant trusting him with… well, everything written on my body. To that, I did not know what to say. I lifted the corner of the cloth on my face to peer at him. He was giving me those earnest eyes again, the ones that his binary may as well tumble out of. I could almost feel the bags under my eyes getting heavier. It felt like anything I could have said would only have made me worse off.

After a sufficiently weird pause, I figured out what to say.

“Do you have a bucket?”

“...Beg pardon?”

“So I don’t puke on your floor.”

“Oh!”

He sprung up like a popcorn kernel, disappeared for a second, and returned with a gross-looking utility bucket, probably the only dirty thing I’d seen in his apartment thus far. It had definitely been used for paint at some point, of all things. Then, seemingly trying to top his personal best record for stupid questions, he asked if I was nauseous. I didn’t dignify it with a response. After that, he just insisted on brewing me some tea that I can’t remember the name of, because it would, as he put it, soothe my “tummy” and help me sleep.

I told him that if he said “tummy” again, I might miss the bucket.

While the tea steeped, we had some minor disagreements about the sleeping arrangement. He wanted to take the couch while I slept in his bed, but I was having none of that. The final verdict was that he’d take the bed, I’d take the couch, and if I somehow needed something that I couldn’t get myself, I could wake him up.

The tea was counterproductive. When I went to drink it, the mug didn’t even make it to my lips. I took one whiff of the scent -- not a bad one, but a scent nonetheless -- and my stomach lurched. I retched into the bucket not a moment later. Fix-it sprung up and practically started whining like an anxious dog. At the same time, though, he looked like he was fighting the urge to sympathy vomit. We had agreed on lights out just a moment ago, but he insisted that he must stay up with me for just a little while longer.

I groaned into the bucket in my lap, “To do what, read me a bedtime story?”

“...Well--”

“No.”

He gave up after that. At long last, he turned in for the night. He got me a glass of water, turned off the lights, and pretended to close the door behind him when he went into his room -- he left it cracked, for some reason I’d no doubt disagree with.

Once the lights were off, it really stood out to me just how wrong it felt spending the night inside Niceland again, after all these years. It was obscenely quiet, the only thing close to white noise being Wreck-it’s distant snoring. The windows didn’t need any blackout shutters like they would in your game, what with our game’s permanent night setting, but the cold, dim light from the cabinet’s screen around the corner was just enough to cast faint window-shaped squares on the floor. For most, it all probably would have been ideal for sleeping. But for me, it was too rigid. Too manufactured, sterile, too clean-cut. I needed mess. I needed a raw, wild, pass-out-drunk mess. Old pilled blankets, misshapen cushions, stained pillows, creaky springs in a mattress way too small for two sprites. If nothing else, I needed the stars. But you can’t see them from the windows of Niceland.

I thought of the places I wished I could be, threw up again, and began my really, really long night.

Most of the night felt like some kind of time loop, just the same awful crap for Devs know how many hours. Throwing up, washing out the bucket, sipping water, refilling water, refreshing the cold towel, burning up, shivering, throwing the blanket, bundling up in the blanket, throwing up again. Startling flashes of memory still kept me from drifting off, but it wasn’t just the fireworks anymore. There was also barking. There was that freak’s grating, screeching abuse. There was the garbled, distorted sound of metal splitting. Worst of all, the feeling of fading into sleep almost felt like fading into near-death again, kicking up that terrified, tooth-and-claw refusal to die. In those cases, I’d wake up screaming.

Freaked the hell out of Fix-it every time.

Something else happened that night. I have no idea what time it was. There was nothing left in me to throw up anymore. My teeth were chattering, but my sweat had still soaked well into the couch. I’d tossed away the warm and damp pillows in favor of resting my burning cheek against the cool cushion beneath. I was just trying desperately to creep past the obstacles between me and anything resembling rest. That’s when things got a little… let’s say “creative.”

I tried to fool myself into thinking I was somewhere more conducive to a good night’s sleep, and it worked. If I really thought about it, I could smell chips, popcorn, and Burger Time grease in the cushion under my head. I could make the upholstery feel frayed and slack. In my feverish delirium, I could even change the room around me. I could picture the walls pulled closer, and an impressive amount of junk for such a small space, all of which I knew by heart. There would be a stereo across from me, a kitchen counter down past my feet, half-full soda cans close to my head, empty six-pack rings hanging on the door handle, a jumpsuit thrown over the corner of the couch, and above me, a rack of meticulously polished trophies. As long as I kept my eyes closed, I was in your trailer.

For those fleeting moments, everything felt normal again. It was as if nothing ever changed.

I heard your bed creak, and your footsteps shortly after. You paused close to me for a second before continuing into the kitchen. Jars rattled when you opened the fridge, a cupboard creaked as you looked for a glass that was actually clean, and I heard you pour something -- could only have been soda, in the middle of the night, you spectacular trainwreck. Then you crossed back to me, set your glass on a surface that shouldn’t have been there, and stopped moving. You just went quiet. So much that I thought you must have been plotting a way to mess with me in my sleep. I welcomed it, too. I couldn’t wait to catch you in the act and tackle you to the floor.

Then I heard, soft as a mouse, “Mavy?”

The illusion dissipated the moment Fix-it spoke. Reality struck again, landing a critical hit on that miserable withdrawal depression. It wasn’t you. It was just Fix-it, who had apparently come to get me a new glass of water. Part of me wanted to spring up and deck him, but I stayed perfectly still and silent. I didn’t want to encourage him to keep talking to me. In all honesty, I felt too heavy and lifeless to do anything at all.

“Mavy?” he said again. “Are you awake?”

Another stupid question. I just imagined that he wasn’t there, in hopes that it would come true. But, much to my regret, I heard him sit on the coffee table again. I could feel him looking at me. He was silent long enough for me to think that he had come out just to watch me sleep, like an absolute creepazoid. But just as I was bucking up the moxie to tell him to buzz off, he spoke again.

“Mavy… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, or-- or tried to pressure you, or…”

The first of many long pauses.

“...I never should have doubted you. You’re worth so… so much more than anyone gives you credit for, and… I’ve known that since day one. Somewhere in this mayhem, I… just... lost sight of that. I know you won’t listen to how sorry I am… but I promise you, Mavy, it won’t happen again. Families support each other… and… this little family of two is all we’ve got. And I know…”

A long pause.

“...I know that you don’t… want a family. But, darn it, Mavy, you need a family, now more than ever. It… It hurts so much watching all this happen to someone I care about. I’m trying so hard to help you, but I just…”

Another pause, exceptionally long this time. For a minute, I wondered if he had left without me noticing, but sure enough, he spoke again. This time, his voice trembled. He’d started crying.

“I… don’t know… how to be the family you need. It... seems like everything I try just… pushes you away even more. I’m not asking you to forgive me, even after all these years, I just… I wish… I wish we could just talk about it. I wish we could just start over and… be better.”

He sniffed, and fell silent again for a minute. When he spoke again, his voice was even quieter.

“You know, for all the trouble you two got into, I… I just loved seeing how happy he made you. I may not know how to be what you need, but… sure seemed like he did. No one else could make you laugh quite like him. ...I miss that laugh.”

Pause.

Then, by some miracle, I managed not to jump when he squeezed my hand. It was disgusting. He wasn’t wearing his gloves, so it was full skin-on-skin contact, and my hand was slimy with sweat, and for the Devs’ sake, Fix-it, I was asleep, as far as he knew. What kind of creep touches someone while they’re sleeping? Yeah, it was just my hand, but it’s the principle of the matter. I did not consent to that contact, and I would not have, even if he asked me. The whole idea of it pissed me off so much.

It didn’t make sense to me, then, why I didn’t pull away.

Maybe I was paralyzed with subconscious rage. Maybe I was too sick and depressed to move. Maybe I really, really didn’t want him to know I’d heard all that. Or, maybe pulling away would have conveyed a message that I didn’t want to send, one I didn’t think he fully deserved at the time.

Probably the rage.

Whatever my reason, he held my hand long enough to test me. Not even my gross, soggy palms deterred him. The binary in my hand was starting to really ache by the time he went on.

“You don’t deserve a broken heart, Mavy. I wish I could do more. I wish I could just… wave my hammer and bring him back for you. I’m so--... I’m so sorry I can’t give you that. There are some things I just… can’t fix.”

I heard him take a deep, slow breath, and it sounded like he rubbed his face with his free hand. For another few moments, I felt him watching me.

“Dream of something nice for me,” he finally muttered, and gave my hand one final squeeze before letting go. He stood, and, despite the fact that I was burning up, draped the blanket over my shoulders like some sappy cliché. Then he went the whole nine yards.

“Love you, cuz. Hope you know that.”

With that, he left me be. I waited until I heard his door creak and his duvet rustle to throw the blanket off and wipe my hand all over the couch. There was barely any mind power left in me to process what had just happened, but I suppose I ought to have thanked him for it -- it took my mind off of the things keeping me awake, and I eventually fell asleep, lost in uncomfortable thought.

I wasn’t angry, really, or even annoyed. I didn’t want to run away or chew him out. I just took bets with myself over how much longer it would be ‘til he realized he was wasting his time on me.

#fanfiction #fanfic #wreck it ralph #fix it felix #make it mavis #turbo #original character #homesick

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gingerhaole · 5 years

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Hey-o! Long time follower here. I know you live on O'ahu and I'm going to visit my cousin there for a week. Since you've lived there for a while, in your opinion what's something that I absolutely must do/see/eat while I'm there? I love nature and exploring outside, but I'm open to everything. I want to make the most of my time. Thanks!

Oh, that’s so exciting!! A week is a good time to visit, I think you can get a lot done in a week. Well let me think... If you love the outdoors, there is a LOT to do here! I haven’t done every hike, but I have some favorites. (And AllTrails.com is a GREAT resource, and incredibly thorough.)

Get ready, folks, this is gonna be IN DEPTH! Here’s a guide of Stuff To Do that I made for visiting family;

Near Ewa Beach (where we live):

Ko Olina lagoons: Our favorite beach is here. There are four manmade lagoons that look out over the west, so sunset is especially beautiful. All the major resorts outside of downtown are here, so there’s a very nice little plaza with some restaurants, ice cream, etc. But the beach is the best. You can see some tropical fish, and the waves are always mild.

Ewa Beach rail tour: The historic Railroad Society does a 90-minute tour on Saturday and Sunday afternoons and what remains of the cross-island track. It starts in Ewa and goes all the way down the Waianae coast, which is stunningly beautiful. The track passes through Ko Olina, and on Sundays they stop at the plaza so you can get some ice cream.

On the North Shore:

Dole Plantation: The original pineapple plantation is now a kind of museum. There’s a big main house with gift shop and a cafe (where you can get the famous Dole Whip ice cream, not to be missed). There’s also the world’s largest corn maze, a small botanical garden, and a train ride through the fields and garden.

Hale'iwa Town: The whole town is pretty charming; rainbow storefronts, great local restaurants, art galleries, lots of shrimp trucks, and a very pretty beach where you can regularly find giant sea turtles sleeping on the sand. Hale’iwa is the only “major” town along the road that runs the northern shore. You can stop almost anywhere and see amazing beaches. But mind the surf traffic!

Waimea Bay: The Beach Boys sang about this place! It’s arguably the most spectacular beach on Oahu, surrounded by lush mountains on three sides. We’ve seen turtles, seals, dolphins, even a whale in the distance. There’s a famous jumping rock, and you can find rough surf or lapping waves, depending on which end you go. And it’s convenient because it’s right across the road from…

Waimea Valley Audubon: A nicely paved 1.5 mile walk through a beautiful botanical garden, full of fruit trees, orchids, indigenous plants and flowers, and a nene preserve — that’s the endangered Hawaiian duck. The payoff is a waterfall and a natural freshwater pool that you can swim in! They even have changing rooms and a shave ice shack.

In Manoa:

Lyon Arboretum and Manoa Falls: This is up in the mountains, in the tropical rainforest. One trail leads you to Manoa Falls, but it’s a pretty rough hike. It can be muddy and slippery, and there’s a little bit of climbing over roots and boulders. The other trail is Lyon Arboretum, which I love, and there’s a second waterfall at the top of the trail, but I can’t recall how long the walk is. Mostly it’s a very even path, but some of the trails get steepish, so good walking shoes would be required. But it’s also great the just explore the lower gardens.

Pu’u Ualaka’a Lookout: The highest road accessible by the general public is here, on Round Top Drive. The lookout is a small park, but a million-dollar view, all the way from Diamond Head to Waianae, with Pearl Harbor smack in the middle.

In Kaneohe/Windward shore:

Pali Lookout: A park at the top of the Pali Valley, which is a breathtaking expanse, even bigger than the Pu’u Lookout view. This place is full of history. It’s the site of the the Battle of Nu'uanu, where Kamehameha’s warriors forced 400 of Oahu’s defenders off the cliff and to their deaths. It’s a beautiful, eerie, powerful place to be, full of ghosts.

Valley of the Temples: One of my favorite places is the Byodo-in Temple, a replica of a Buddhist temple in Japan. It’s situated at the foot of the Ko’olau Mountains, and features the largest Buddha statue in Hawaii. It’s a beautiful place, very peaceful, with lots of koi and swans and a lovely garden.

Ho’omaluhia Botanical Garden: One of the most beautiful places on the island, if you’re asking me. 400 acres of gardens, a lovely duck-filled lake, and the most breathtaking 360-degree mountain view. NOT to be missed.

Kualoa Beach: Driving to the temple usually takes us on the LONG drive around the windward coast. There are a few very small towns, and the beaches are beautiful. Kualoa is a huge beach park, almost always deserted. The water is calm and shallow, and right off shore is the tiny Chinaman’s Hat island. In back of the park is a mountain range that you may recognize from Jurassic Park! Driving this way takes between two and three hours, and eventually connects to the North Shore. It’s a great way to see this part of the island, and you can stop anywhere along the way for swimming or a bite to eat. Great shrimp trucks, too!

In Honolulu:

Bishop Museum: Our natural and indigenous history museum. It’s pretty incredible, with etymology and ornithology collections, a portrait gallery, a planetarium, three floors of Pacific island history, and a volcano-centric science building!

‘Iolani Palace: The palace of the former Hawaiian monarchy, which offers guided tours. I was really moved when I visited. It’s amazing to see the throne room or the royal jewels, but even more amazing to see the small room where Queen Liliuokalani was held under house arrest, and sewed a commemorative quilt that’s on display.

In Waikiki:

Ala Moana mall: It’s apparently the world’s largest open-air mall. I’m not like a fan of malls, but this place is beautiful to see and wander around. And the FOOD! There’s a whole lower section called Shirokiya Japan Village Walk, which is like a grid of little restaurants and bakeries where you can find any Asian food you’re craving (and the world’s best chocolate cream puffs, too). On Fridays at 8:15 pm, the harbor just across the street sets off a little fireworks show.

Waikiki Beach: A pretty unbeatable place to people watch, have a swim, or lay out in the sun (with a mai tai or a beer, maybe). You can see the historic pink Royal Hawaiian Hotel, the statue of famous surfer Duke Kahanamoku, or sneak into the lobby of the Halekulani and use their fancy Japanese toilets!

King’s Village: A couple blocks of shops and restaurants that looks straight out of Disneyland. I love to just look at everything. On Thursdays and Sundays at 6:30 pm, they perform a tribute to the King’s Guard — on Thursdays it’s fire knife dancing and Polynesian drumming, and on Sundays it’s hula dancing and ukulele. Pretty cool!

Honolulu Zoo: It’s a small zoo, but it’s still pretty awesome! Features a brand new gigantic elephant paddock, a new reptile section, and a very nice keiki petting zoo. Sometimes they give all the animals special snacks -- the elephants get giant popcorn balls!

Honolulu Aquarium: Again, it’s not a huge aquarium, but it’s beautifully laid out, and full of native fishes and monk seals. The zoo and aquarium are both right at the end of Waikiki Beach, so it’s easy enough to do one of these and see more of Waikiki in a day.

Diamond Head: The famous (and famously exhausting) trail to the top of the Diamond Head crater takes about an hour and involves the Hundred Stairs and squeezing yourself through a bunker, but at the top you get a 360 degree view, and it is pretty hard to argue the rewards.

In Hawaii Kai:

Hanauma Bay: This a smallish bay in a state park that’s filled with a coral reef, and chock full of tropical fish — sea turtles, eels, puffers, giant parrotfish, everything. You can even see the state fish, the Humuhumunukunukuapua’a! It’s really like swimming in an aquarium, and if you’ve never been snorkeling, this is a great place to learn because it’s fairly shallow and the waves are usually really mild. It’s closed on Tuesdays (that’s when they paint the fish).

Halona Blowhole: Just up the road from Hanauma Bay is a cliff that goes down to tide pools and the Blowhole. Like Old Reliable, only you get a geyser every time the waves come up through the rock.

Makapu’u Lighthouse trail: This one is a paved 3.2 mile walk, but it gets steep and it’s in direct sun. However, the view at the top is pretty spectacular, and I’ve never gone up and not seen whales below. You can, though, just walk to the first benchmark, which is maybe a quarter mile, and get a pretty fantastic view. This is just about on the opposite side of the island from our house, so we usually stay a while in Hawaii Kai and have dinner at our favorite Greek restaurant, and finish it up with some famous Bubbie’s ice cream and a sunset at the Koko Head Marina.

Bear in mind, this is NOT the most comprehensive list of activities, it’s just what I personally like. I hope it helps!

#gingerhaole answers #hawaii #oahu #sweet-peach-tea

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ladywynneoutlander · 5 years

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Heart’s Abundance

More sweet times on the Ridge as William finds his place.

Part 2 Hearthside

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 , Part 6

After our harvest meal the afternoon passes in pleasant repletion. The adults scatter to various corners to doze and chat. Jem, Germain, and Fanny disappear outside. I can hear them laughing as I lay a quilt over a sleeping Mandy. She took to John Quincey immediately, and is now curled up beside him on the settle.

This state of peaceful repose lasts approximately an hour. Then Jamie stands and stretches himself, back popping. He looks at William, “Will ye walk wi’ me? I can reacquaint you with the place.”

William stands as well, nodding, “Yes, of course.” He remains a bit formal, and I wish I knew more about their last meeting.

I watch them from the kitchen door as they go, boots crunching the fallen leaves with each step, so alike in gait and height that no one could fail to see them for what they are, a father and his son.

When I turn around Ian is there with his baby in his arms. He stares thoughtfully at the door for a moment before sitting down at the table. He says nothing and I wait patiently, taking the baby and feeling his warm heavy weight. Finally, Young Ian turns to me, “Ye know Auntie, I don’t know why yon man has come, but I think maybe it’s to do with you as well as Uncle Jamie.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so Ian. Whatever would William want with me?”

Ian gives a small smile, “Maybe he needs ye.”

I gently rock the baby, not looking up as I say, “No. What use could I possibly be?”

Ian touches my arm to draw my attention. His brown eyes are soft. “Ye can be kind. Ye can be a comfort.”

His voice becomes more matter-of-fact. “The Mohawk do say women are great healers of body and spirit. They provide strength and consistency to all.” He smiles at me, “Maybe William needs to find his strength just now.”

I nod, but I’m not convinced. “Maybe.”

We sit a moment longer, enjoying the peace. I smooth the baby’s soft downy hair, then give him my finger, watching in fascination as the tiny hand closes around it even in sleep.

Finally, Ian moves to go. “Just think on it, Auntie, aye?” He takes the little one and leaves to find Rachel.

I stay by myself for a time, and it comes to me how much William has been through. The loss of two mothers (three if you count me) and Jane. Consistency indeed. Also, the loss of his very identity. He had been loved, that much I knew, but must feel very alone and confused just now. I remember how difficult the same situation was for Brianna. She felt heartbroken and torn, betrayed. Compassion wells in me, and as the sun sinks behind the trees I feel a tear slide warm down my cheek.

-o0OOO0o-

That evening, lying close and warm next to Jamie, I hear how their meeting went.

Jamie took the boy to the White Spring, that place of truth. William was quiet on the trail, turned inward. When they arrived, Jamie broke the thin scrim of ice and took a cold mouthful. William did the same, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

Jamie settled himself on a boulder and smiled at the boy. “So, if ye’ll forgive my asking, what brings ye to the Ridge?”

William didn’t answer immediately. He sat as well and drew in a deep breath before speaking. “First, I should like to thank you for your assistance in the matter of Jane, and also for the care you’ve given her sister.”

Jamie waves his hand in dismissal, “’Twas nothing lad. Any decent man would have done the same.”

William gave a mild snort, “I take leave to doubt that. Still, not any man did. You did, and with barely a thought. I knew M--,” he hesitated, then went on, “Mother Claire, both she and my father say you are an honorable man. Apparently, they are right.”

They sat with this for a moment, admiring the slant of golden sunlight through the yellow of chestnut and birch. When William didn’t say more Jamie ventured, “The thought had occurred to me that ye may be in some trouble?” He made the last into a question.

William shrugged irritably. “No. Not trouble exactly. I have someone to find, my cousin Ben, but I cannot continue in that search until spring. That’s not why I’m here.” He stood up suddenly, and paced a bit before taking a deep breath and facing Jamie squarely. “I have come to ask if I might stay for a time. Here,” he adds, as if there were doubt, “on Fraser’s Ridge.”

Jamie was surprised, but quickly brought his face back to neutrality. He still thought William likely needed help in some way, but maybe it isn’t the kind he needed before. He stood and extended a hand, grasping the lad’s shoulder. “Aye, of course, ye’re always welcome.”

Wiliam takes a step backward, away from him, but not in a harsh way. “Thank you. I don’t require anything. I can sleep in the barn or wherever is convenient.”

Jamie smiled at him, “Aye, that’s good, but we can likely find ye a bed.”

They made their way home in the last light of the day. Jamie felt as though a new path had opened before him, unknown and steep, but one that led to a bonny place.

-o0OOO0o-

The next day we bid farewell to John Quincey, off to overwinter with the Cherokee. William stays. He gradually fits into the routine of the Ridge; hunting, doing farm chores, and joining Roger or Bree whenever they venture out. He is beloved instantly by the children, playing with the boys, talking with Fanny, and carrying Mandy perched high on his shoulder. Still, he is mostly quiet, listening and observing.

I can tell Brianna is pleased, eager to embrace this new brother. William seems equally in awe of her, and they seem to find joy in each other. More than once I catch Jamie watching them, a look of quiet happiness on his face.

One day I come into the study to find Jamie looking out the window. Outside Brianna and William are exercising the horses, walking them in circles and brushing their shaggy winter coats. He doesn’t turn, but he must have sensed me, because he holds his hand out toward me, inviting. I take it and he draws me against him. I circle my arms around his waist, and feel his arms come around me in turn, the warmth of him a comfort and a blessing.

Jamie is still engaged in the scene outside, “I never thought to see such a grand thing, Sassenach.”

I give him a squeeze of acknowledgement and laugh. “Neither did I! I nearly fell off the porch when I saw William.”

Jamie smiles as well, “Aye, and ye weren’t the only one.”

He holds me for a while longer. I look up at Jamie’s face, happy now, but with tiny lines framing his striking blue eyes. I can feel the scars on his back beneath his shirt, and it comes to me how many hardships he faced to bring us to this moment. I am moved with love for him, and lay a hand over his heart. “Jamie, I want you to know. I’m glad he’s here. We all are.”

Jamie takes my hand and turns to face me fully, “I know ye are. You are a wonder, truly. He isna yours, and it isna right that he should be here to torment you. Thank ye Claire, for welcoming the lad.”

“Posh,” I say gently. “He’s yours, Jamie, for that alone I would love him. But also…” I pause, looking outside while I gather my thoughts. “Also, I love him for himself. He’s a fine boy and he was very kind when I spent time with him in Boston.” I know Jamie doesn’t like to recall my marriage to John Grey, but it matters here. “I think- maybe, I can be there for him, maybe be a sort of mother to him.”

Jamie doesn’t answer and I glance up. I am surprised to see unshed tears glimmer in his eyes. “He couldna have a finer one,” he says huskily. He pulls me close then, bends his head, and kisses me. His mouth is soft and his arms are strong, and all is warmth and hope between us.

-o0OOO0o-

The evenings are long in winter. It is the time for songs, and fires, hearth and home. When the family gathers late in the evening, the children tucked in bed, we often tell stories. We hear Highland tales of kelpies and fairies, farmers and lairds. We hear personal stories about family and friends, also C.S. Lewis, E.B. White, Louisa May Alcott, the lives of Saints, romantic poetry, and Greek heroes. And in each telling, regardless of the subject, we reveal a bit more of ourselves to one another.

It is nearly a fortnight before William tells a story of his own, venturing forth with a story about Sergeant Cutter that has laughter ringing from the rafters, fit to wake the entire Ridge. He speaks more often after that, sometimes tales of adventure, and rarely, of his boyhood. Once he even mentions a groom named MacKenzie.

Tonight we are up particularly late, and the room has grown quiet. The air is heavy, and I know we will wake on the morrow under a blanket of white. Into this expectancy William speaks. Quietly, his elbows on his knees as he watches the hearthfire, he begins a story of Isobel.

“Mother Isobel loved Christmas. She festooned every railing and mantel with greenery. The whole house smelled grand. Even if it were only the two of us, as it often was after we lost grandfather, we sang carols, and had pudding and candies. She made it special every year… magical. To a boy.” He pauses and we wait, listening to the gentle crackle and pop of dried pine wood.

“One year there was a terrible storm. I remember the wind howling down the chimneys and causing the yule log to flare up and wave about. I was frightened and began to cry and whinge. I was a little devil truly. I was really crying from loneliness though, and from being left behind. Mother Isobel somehow knew the truth of it. She took me onto her lap and stroked my hair. ‘Willie, my darling, sometimes those we love cannot be with us. We may wish it fervently, but circumstances cannot be changed. Absence doesn’t mean they love us less, or we them. Indeed, it is often their care for us that keeps them away. They must do what is necessary. But remember love, they are never gone from our hearts.’”

William looks at Jamie. “I thought those words ridiculous then. I felt abandoned, and I let my grief turn to anger at those who left me.” He takes a deep breath, “Now though, I think I understand, and I find Mother Isobel was wise indeed.”

“Aye, that she was,” Jamie says kindly.

We sigh collectively. Roger pulls a guitar into his lap, strumming a chord. “Let’s have a tune. A song to love’s sacrifices,” he says in his rough voice. He turns to Brianna and smiles. “They are always worth it.”

As Roger plays my mind wanders. First to William and his story. Yes, maybe healing of a kind is needed, hopefully has begun already. I will do all I can to help, and the peace of the Ridge will be a balm if William lets it. There is no outside world, no war here. Not yet. Not in winter.

The sacrifices of love. I remember Frank and dear Uncle Lamb. Then further, to Geillis, Dougal, Rupert, and Colum. They all loved, whether people or causes or places or things, and made their choices accordingly. And where were they now? I shudder and Jamie pulls me closer against him, a buttress against the past. I lean on him gratefully. We two know better than anyone the heavy sacrifice that true love can require, and times like this are all the more precious for the knowing. So I return to the present, put my head on Jamie’s chest, and simply listen.

Thanks for reading! I promise family fun next week!

#outlander #heart's abundance

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todisturbtheuniverse · 5 years

Text

FIC: Liminal Grief [2/3]

Rating: T Fandom: Stardew Valley Pairing: Shane/Female Farmer Tags: Pre-Relationship, Developing Friendship, Grief, Alcoholism, Depression Word Count: 10,613 (total) Summary: The new farmer has a level of equal-opportunity-friendliness that reminds Shane of an old friend, but when the mask comes off, it’s more like looking in a mirror. Also on AO3. Notes: Very much based in the game, but littered with my own headcanons, both for this particular farmer and for Shane. Like other stories in this series, this could be considered standalone, but follows the same farmer (named Lydia) and the same Shane, and shares continuity with those other works.

Part 1 here.

Jas wasn't in her usual spot.

Shane stared at the shady place beneath the big tree by the forest lake. He didn't expect her to materialize, but he hoped, which was a pretty big leap for him. If he hoped hard enough, maybe he could will her into existence. Maybe she was just hiding behind the tree, still mad at him…

He looked, even though he knew what he would see. Nothing. A whole lot of nothing. He gave the upper branches a perfunctory check, just in case she'd suddenly become capable of climbing a tree this big, but there was no sign of her lavender dress, of her green bow.

Shit. She'd been gone an hour already. If he'd known she was upset enough to go running off to a new hiding place, he'd have followed sooner.

At least, he told himself that, that her screechy voice hadn't provoked a headache so powerful that he'd been mostly incapable of stepping out into the sunlight until now. Screechy voices and hangovers were a bad combination.

He was going to have to enlist Marnie's help. Great. Fucking perfect. He didn't know how many more worried, disappointed looks he could endure from his aunt, but he was just going to have to suffer through it somehow. It would almost be better if she would just berate him outright. Almost.

He took his time heading back, hoping he'd find Jas somewhere in the intermittent forest and meadows. She loved the wide open space out here. She could be anywhere.

Anywhere. A hand closed tight around his lungs, squeezing them, cutting off his air. She could be anywhere. She could be hurt. She could be…

But he didn't get much further than that. It was an old fear, well-trod. It had lost its sharp edge, the squeak that had once kept him up at night.

Marnie looked up from the cash register as he came in, face tight with worry. "You didn't find her?"

"No," he snapped.

Marnie didn't even flinch. "Maybe she'd have gone to Vincent's? I can—"

"No," Shane said, his tone better moderated this time. "No, when she's mad, she always wants to be alone." He didn't know much, but he knew that. In this one way, Jas had always matched him in temperament, rather than her parents.

Slowly, Marnie nodded. "All right, then...maybe...check with Lydia? She's still got a lot of undeveloped space on that farm, and it's nearby."

It was solid logic, but Shane resisted it. The last place he wanted to look was that farm. The last person he wanted to see was Lydia. He'd been in a weird place the night before, and it'd been...fine...having a drink with her, but he didn't want to give her any ideas about staying friendly.

So he'd just have to be extra rude while enlisting her help. Sure. Those two things went together.

"I'll come along," Marnie said, stepping out from behind the register, oblivious to his internal torment. "It's a big piece of land. Three of us searching separately will cover more ground."

"Assuming she wants to help," Shane muttered. It was probably too much to hope that she'd give them the run of her farm and then vanish into town for the afternoon.

"Of course she will. She's a sweet gal."

Shane didn't offer up any commentary on that, any of the words he'd use to describe her instead. Marnie locked up the ranch, and then they took the hard-packed dirt path north, following the old signpost pointing the way to Northern Lights Farm.

Shane vaguely remembered stumbling this way on a drunker night or two. Even wasted, he'd known to turn back. The southern entrance to the farm was overgrown; trees had crowded in, concealing any paths that might once have provided a route to the farmhouse.

Lydia hadn't completely cut back the overgrowth—impossible for one person in a single season to do—but she'd cleared a path, revealing old fences that were battered in some places and entirely broken in others. Nevertheless, the space between them was clear, showing a way through the trees, and Shane and Marnie followed it. In the distance, a dog barked.

"Sounds like Archimedes," Marnie said.

"Weird name for a dog."

"Lydia thought he had a clever face."

He lengthened his stride, even though it didn't help his headache one bit, hoping she'd be too out of breath to talk.

No such luck. Of course a woman who wrangled cows and chickens and sheep most days had the lung capacity to keep talking no matter how fast he walked. "Seemed like you two had a nice time last night."

Small towns. Only one bar, and it was the same bar everyone—including your aunt—went to. Usually Marnie was too busy chatting with Lewis to remark on what company Shane was or was not keeping, but not this time, apparently.

He didn't answer. That seemed safest.

"She seems a little lonely, isolated out here, fresh from the city," Marnie continued. "Bet you two have a lot in common."

There had been similar comments about other people—newcomers and community fixtures alike—over the last few months. Cautious encouragement to get out there, meet people, make friends.

"No," he said, "we don't."

"Shane—"

"Whatever it is, just stop, okay? Focus on finding Jas."

She sighed, low and disappointed, but didn't push further. They emerged from the path into an open field green with growing crops, and a dog rushed to meet them, tail wagging. Marnie leaned down to pat his head as he panted.

Shane saw the straw hat in the middle of the field before it popped up above the bean trellises. Lydia's face split into a wide grin as soon as she saw them. "Hey, neighbors!" she called.

Marnie shot him a look, as if to say, See? He glared back.

Lydia sidled through the trellises and walked over, still beaming, brushing the dirt from her gloves. "What brings you up here?"

"Jas is missing," Shane said, before Marnie could hem and haw about it.

Lydia's face fell. "Oh, no. What can I do to—"

"We need to search your farm," he cut across her.

"Of course," she said, nodding. "Archimedes and I can help—"

"That's not necess—"

"If you think she ran up here, it is," Lydia said grimly. "There's a lot of land I haven't cleared yet, and I don't know what kind of hazards the weeds might be hiding. It'll be faster with three of us looking."

"Fine," he bit out, and before she could argue further, he picked a direction and started walking.

"Be careful!" Marnie called after him.

He ignored her, plunging back into the trees, and searched for any sign of a misbehaving little girl. Any handholds on the trees that might have allowed her to scale them. Any tall reeds around the swampy pond that might conceal her. Any boulders that were the right size for her to hide behind.

The sun moved overhead. He'd been hoarse to start with, but after half an hour of calling for her, he hardly had any voice left. It felt like his blood was pumping too sluggishly through his body, slowing him down. Every time he passed from shade to sunlight, he had to squint against the glare.

A squirrel ran for cover nearby. A woodpecker took flight. Every rustle could have been her dress, every squeak could have been her giggle—but it was just some creature moving through the wilderness, and she was nowhere to be found.

The right thing to do was to keep looking. Keep wading through the tall, prickly grasses that had consumed the southwestern quarter of Lydia's land; keep stubbing his toes on all the rocks and fallen branches hidden within the grass; keep scanning the horizon and then the treeline for any sign of a green bow vibrant against dark hair, a small head bobbing away from him into the woods.

But Shane was tired. Powerfully hungover. Head killing him, sun trying to stab his eyes out, stomach churning, limbs like noodles. They’d been at this an hour. If Jas was on the farm, she was doing a good job of ignoring them entirely, staying quiet and out of sight.

Or she just wasn’t here.

He sank down against the nearest tree, letting the tall grass conceal him up to his neck, and closed his eyes. In the distance, he could still hear Marnie calling for Jas, the fear in her voice blunted a little by an hour of searching.

He’d long since lost that anxiety. Long since stopped peeking into Jas’s room before he turned in for bed, just to make sure she was still breathing. Used to be he could reassure himself that way, even wobbly and drunk, convince himself there was still something left to him, that somehow his best friends lived on through her, a last lifeline, and if he just checked, she would make it through the night.

But it was a stupid ritual. A false sense of security. She would make it, or she wouldn’t, and the universe wouldn’t ask his input on the matter. He couldn’t protect her. He couldn't protect anyone.

A shadow fell over him. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting here, steeped in exhaustion, head throbbing; maybe long enough for the sun to shift, to cast the shadow of another tree over him. He squinted one eye open.

Not another tree. Lydia. He barely repressed a groan.

He expected her to have a hard time hiding her disgust—or maybe reprimand him outright. She’s your goddaughter. How could you just sit here? He welcomed it, even. Give him a chance to snap at her. Really deliver the kind of cutting words that would make her think twice about poking her nose where it didn't belong.

He wasn’t even sure she knew that Jas was his goddaughter. Marnie called the kid her niece, even though she wasn’t, technically. Maybe Lydia thought they were cousins. Siblings. Maybe it wasn’t immediately obvious how irresponsible he was.

Either way, she looked concerned instead of repulsed. From what he could tell, anyway, backlit as she was by the sun.

“Well, you look like hell,” she said, a statement of fact rather than an admonishment. “Here.”

She leaned down, offering a canteen of water. He considered refusing, but his liver could probably use it. He took it, spun the lid open, and drank, not bothering to thank her. It was fresh and cold. He just hoped she hadn't scooped it out of the pond.

“There’s a treehouse around here somewhere,” Lydia said, shading her eyes and looking west. “Used to love it when I was a kid. Bet if Jas found it, that’s where she is.”

He let his head fall back against the tree, breathing deep. “You remember where it is?”

“Ehhh, sort of.”

He stretched out his arm—a monumental effort—to return the canteen to her. She slipped it back into an outer pocket of her backpack, then offered her hand down, as if to help him up.

“Come on,” she said. Encouragingly. Like that was going to improve his mood. “I think it’s just a little further.”

He didn’t exactly want the help, but he wasn’t sure he could get back to his feet without it, either. Was this section of her farm full of quicksand? Was that the hazard she'd warned them about? It felt like it was pulling him down, convincing him to lie in the tall grass and go to sleep, maybe let it swallow him whole.

He took her hand. It was heavily calloused even under his own rough fingers. A season on the farm really had transformed her from desk jockey to hardy manual laborer.

She heaved, easily setting him on his feet, and nodded when he didn’t immediately fall back down. “Let’s go.”

It occurred to him that she was sacrificing precious daylight hours to help him. That she could be fighting battles against these weeds, clearing more land or watering her existing crops or doing pretty much anything except look for a runaway little girl.

What was she even getting out of this? Would she expect some kind of reward? A gold medal, or just gold, for being neighbor of the year, finder of lost children?

Or was her kindness just inherent and altruistic? Hard to believe the world hadn't crushed it out of her yet. She'd worked at Joja. How had she survived?

“We’ll find her,” she said, like a promise.

His heart softened—a little. Just a little. If the world hadn't crushed the neighborly do-gooder instinct out of her yet, fine. It would. Eventually. But he wasn't going to be the one to do it.

“Sorry,” he said. Grudgingly, but he managed to force the word out. “Bet you didn’t plan to spend your afternoon playing hide-and-seek.”

“I didn’t,” she acknowledged, “but it’s okay. Archimedes!”

A bit of grass several yards away rustled and the blond head of her dog popped up above it, black nose gleaming, snout glistening like he'd recently stuck his face in the pond.

“Find anything?” she asked, for all the world like the dog was going to answer her.

He barked, turned a circle, and went plunging ahead west.

“All right,” she said. “Good as any other direction, probably. There used to be a big rock out here marking the way to the treehouse, but I can’t remember if Granddad broke it up after…”

She trailed off, and despite his determined distance, he found his interest piqued. After she’d stopped visiting? After he’d come back as a ghost to strew hazards all over the farm for his granddaughter to deal with? After the angry creatures in the wilderness reclaimed this part of the farm for their own?

Any seemed likely, coming from her. He remembered her playful hints at magic the night before. But she didn’t finish the sentence, just frowned and continued on, following the rustling grass that indicated her dog’s path.

And he followed her. If he couldn’t do the right thing, he could at least walk in the shadow of someone who would.

"You know," she said, as if she was allergic to silence, "if you want, I could give her a tour of the farm. Show her the places she ought to stay away from. That way, if she runs off again—"

"She won't."

She gave him a sidelong look. "Sure. Kids are totally predictable and obedient that way."

He scowled. "You could put a gate on the entrance by the ranch. Solved."

"Unless you want me to build a ten-foot-high concrete wall, she'd just climb it. And even then...I've seen her and Vincent testing the trees in town. She might still get in. Trust me," she said, and smiled. "I was once seven and precocious."

"Never would've guessed," he said, thick with sarcasm, and she laughed like he'd made a joke.

"Granddad never did get this part of the farm running. He always had plans for it, but he always stopped short. Cleared the path every season, maintained the fences, but kept the woods in the end. It was the first place I'd run off to whenever I was sad, or upset, or had just been scolded." She looked around at the trees as they walked, wistful around the eyes.

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes you need to lick your wounds in peace, right?"

"Not that. Why didn't he finish it?"

She glanced at him. "Said he had enough land, enough crops, to handle already." She hesitated, chewing on her lip. "But sometimes he told me that it was the forest spirits' home, so he couldn't cut it down."

"Let me guess," he said, unable to help his skeptical tone. "Those sounds you were talking about?"

"Sure," she said, all good-natured, like his cynicism didn't even touch her. "Why not?"

"Why not," he repeated in a mutter, and then, louder, "so you won't be clearing this, either?"

"Well, I don't really know if Granddad was telling the truth about having his hands full, but I certainly do." She shook her head. "I keep the path clear, and the rest is future Lydia's problem. The one who theoretically has a working sprinkler system."

He snorted. She took a look around again and pointed at a jagged boulder rising above the grass, maybe sixty feet in front of them.

"That's the marker. Okay. If we overshoot it a little and look to the right…"

He saw the evidence of an overgrown path here—a narrower track than the one Lydia had cleared through the forest, marked by old fences. This was just beaten down by, presumably, a history of footsteps. Lydia made her way along it, Archimedes at her side now rather than ahead.

"Aha," she said, quieter now, eyes traveling up a nearby tree trunk. "I think we've found our fugitive."

Shane's heart leaped in relief. He could see the old, partially-rotted handholds nailed up the trunk of the tree, the intact structure among its branches, and the thinnest sliver of a green bow through the window.

"I'll give you two some space," Lydia said, still quiet, and retreated back to the boulder, gesturing for Archimedes to follow; he went, tail wagging.

Despite his skepticism, and some derision—the same kind he felt every time Emily made a comment on his aura, truth be told—he appreciated this. Maybe Lydia was just too blind to see what a fuck-up he was, but even so, she'd given him the benefit of the doubt, the space to handle Jas on his own.

It was like Marnie'd said. She was a sweet gal. Too bad this unruly farm was going to break her of all that.

He considered the hand-holds, decided the risk of breaking a bone was acceptable, and began to climb. By the time he'd gotten halfway up, Jas knew he was coming, but there was no escape, and she wasn't desperate enough or stupid enough to jump out the treehouse window. She watched him with big, wary eyes as he contorted himself through the treehouse floor and settled gingerly on the worn floorboards.

For a long moment, they sat in silence, looking at each other. Shane was out of breath, and didn't know what exactly to say, anyway. Jas huddled in the opposite corner, tearstains on her face, some combination of defiance and guilt in the set of her jaw.

"You scared the sh—" He caught himself just in time. "You really scared me."

Her lip wobbled. He braced himself. "I'm sorry," she said, eyes gleaming again.

He stretched his legs out, enough to tap his shoe against hers. Almost instinctively, it seemed, she tapped back.

She'd still been a baby when he'd taught her to do that.

"Me too." He cleared his throat. "I was a real grouch this morning."

"Me too," she echoed, and rubbed a fist into her watering eyes. "I miss them so much."

How many times was it acceptable to say Me too? It didn't matter, because Shane couldn't get the words out. He patted the floorboards beside him instead, and Jas scrambled over to sit next to him, leaning against his side.

It wasn't sufficient. He was a poor substitute. No substitute at all, really. But he was all she had. Him and Marnie.

Poor kid.

"Don't run off again," he said. "Or at least go places I know."

She sniffed. "I like this treehouse."

He had a sudden, terrifying premonition of further forced interaction with Lydia.

"Look. There's drawings." Jas pointed, and he saw the little carvings in the wall. Your standard initials—L.A.V. in a shaky hand, B.I.V. in a steadier one beneath it—but also pictures. Little round creatures with guileless eyes and thin limbs, painted over in faded colors, sometimes outside the lines.

Forest spirits, probably.

"It's not our property, kiddo," he tried.

"Lydia's really nice. She always says hi to me when she's talking to Miss Penny. She gave me a dandelion once." She turned her tearful face up to Shane. "Maybe she'd let me come over sometimes."

Shane relented. It was hard to tell her no, especially for something so innocuous. He always felt like shit afterward, anyway.

So he'd have to put up with Lydia's sunny attitude once in a while. Whatever. Maybe Jas could get a little bit of happiness out of it. A childhood in the middle of all this horror. He could make some sacrifices on his personal comfort for that.

"We can ask her," he said, making a mental note to also ask her to replace the handholds on the trunk. "Can't believe you climbed all the way up here by yourself."

She grinned. "I'm strong, right?"

"You sure are," he said, and thought, Way stronger than me. "Let's get down from this thing, okay?"

She nodded, wiped at her face again, and hugged him quickly before scrambling past him to begin the descent.

He was an unfeeling asshole these days. The entire world had blended into some kind of dull, vomit-colored blur. But he loved her, even so.

If only it was enough.

He followed her down to the ground only to find her already frolicking with Archimedes, laughing as the dog enthusiastically licked her face. "Oh, he's so soft!" she exclaimed, gently petting the blond head.

Lydia approached from the boulder, smiling. "He likes you," she told Jas. "And he loves hide-and-seek. You gave him a good game."

Jas looked down, shy again. "Sorry I hid on your farm, Miss Lydia."

"No harm done," Lydia said. She cast a questioning look at Shane.

He sighed. "Jas likes your treehouse."

She brightened immediately. "It's a great treehouse. Used to spend a lot of time in it when I was a kid."

Shane nudged Jas. She buried her face in Archimedes' fur—he weathered the hug happily—and then peeked up at Lydia.

"Can I visit sometimes?" she asked, barely audible.

Lydia looked another question at Shane. So respectful, so intent not to overstep the bounds of his terrible guardianship.

He nodded.

"Of course!" Lydia cast a critical eye at the steps. "I'd better replace those steps first, though. Don't want anybody to get hurt."

She really was excruciatingly, painfully nice. He hated it. But he sort of, grudgingly, appreciated it.

"I can help with that," he offered. "We've got spare lumber at the ranch, and if Jas is going to be using it…"

It was fair, he figured. She was doing Jas a good turn. He didn't want to incur any debts. Maybe he could fix up some of those fences for her, too.

"Perfect," Lydia said. "Maybe we can do that next Saturday? Jas can hang out with Archimedes. If you don't have any plans."

Plans. Watching the pizza rolls spin in the microwave, maybe. Downing a few beers when the clock said it was acceptable to do so. Wandering the woods after Jas had gone to bed, coming back after Marnie had gone to sleep.

Jas looked back and forth between them, arms still looped around the dog's neck, some strange hope in her sad little face.

If she wanted to believe he was making a friend, fine. If she wanted to believe things were going to get better, great. He just had to maintain the illusion.

"We're free," he said. "If Jas really wants to hang out with this stinky animal all day."

"He's not stinky," Jas protested. Archimedes licked a broad stripe across her face, as if in thanks, and she giggled again.

Lydia flashed him a subtle thumbs-up. He rolled his eyes. It was one Saturday.

He could still fit in the beer-drinking and woods-wandering if they finished early enough.

Go to Part 3 ->

#stardew valley #shane/female farmer #sdv shane #sdv farmer #universe writes #in quarantine we post new chapter of fic daily #(i'm spreading out posting of each chapter but they're all up at AO3 fyi)#depression cw #alcoholism cw #developing friendship #pre-relationship

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