#but we’re just down to chickens for farm animals now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yeehawbvby · 2 years

Text

Falling Away With You | Ch. 7

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You run into Seb, and he winds up comforting you through a panic attack

Author’s Note: TW // a detailed panic attack, references to self-harm/sui attempt/eating disorders during said panic attack. Enjoy, and take care of yourselves x

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

I got to Stardew Valley in the beginning of Spring, and now that we’re a decent three-quarters-ish of the way through, my hard work on the farm is finally starting to show.

Sam and I have only texted here and there since the night of our weird little moment, which is bugging me, considering he’s typically a ball of clingy energy. Is he avoiding me when he can on purpose, or am I overthinking?

Lots of yard work, alone, means lots of being trapped inside my own head, which means I’ve been thinking about all that a metric fuckton. If it weren’t for Cannoli, music, and my overactive imagination, I probably would’ve driven myself insane over it.

I’ve decided to take the day off from manual and emotional labor to do something less mindless — planning an actual layout for my farm. With the work I’ve done, I can probably get a decently sized patch of those parsnips growing, amongst other things. As long as I haul ass... it's not like I'll have much time to let them grow.

I’ve found, being newish to nature and all, that being outdoors does wonders for my focus when I’m not doing a ton of physical work. I could just sit out on the porch today—

Or, I could spice things up a bit and go somewhere new. It’s raining again, so as long as I find a nice tree or overhang to sit under, I don’t think my sketchbook will take too much damage… Yep. Field trip time.

After devouring a few scrambled eggs, courtesy of Marnie’s chickens, I brew some coffee. During my time at Joja, I began to hate it. Could only associate the beverage with disgustingly bright lighting and cranky colleagues and fake smiles. But now that I have a new life, I’m determined to get over the mild phobia I’d developed. I haven’t keeled over at the smell yet, so there’s a start!

I opt to put my coffee in a metal spinner, mixing in some vanilla flavored creamer before tightening the lid. I’ll just leave it by the fireplace while I go get changed, that way it keeps its warmth better. Yoba help me if Cannoli knocks it over.

My hair is looking a little messy, so I throw half of it up into a bun, letting the rest fall down my shoulders. Repositioning the bun closer to my nape, I put my favorite cap on. This bad boy is corduroy, black, and has a tiny pink uwu face knitted onto the front, with an even tinier pink set of horns coming out above it. Not sharp enough to do damage if I were to headbutt someone, but definitely sharp enough that it might freak Evelyn and George out a little.

I evilly snicker to myself at the thought. Granny Evelyn’s a sweetheart, but George can go eat a dick or two for all I care.

I want to keep things cozy, so I pair the hat with some big gray joggers, a cropped black tank top, and my black boots. It’s warm enough that I don’t need anything to cover my arms, but I toss on a windbreaker anyway, so I can protect my sketchbook from the rain.

I snuggle Cannoli on the ground for a few minutes, once again feeling bad about leaving him behind. I bought this funky lil’ cat door that Robin designed yesterday, and installed it myself earlier this morning, so that Cannoli can come and go as he pleases if he gets bored. I still worry he’s going to get lonely, or worse, into some trouble with other animals. He never leaves the farm when I let him roam outside, and he was a stray after all, so I trust him — but my motherly protective instincts are going nuts .

I give Cannoli one last forehead kiss, grab my things along with a fanny pack for some pencils and my wallet, and head out towards the town.

__________________

Every tree I’ve encountered so far has been too thin and/or drippy to sit under. Most overhangs I’ve encountered have been attached to someone’s house, so I can’t just loiter under one of those… Y’know, I vaguely recall Willy’s shop on the docks having some cover. That roof is such a mess, with its shingles scattered all over the place, but maybe it’ll come in handy now. I might as well check it out.

I make it to the docks in one piece, and it turns out, I was right! There’s a bench a little bit away. I’m sure if I asked, Willy wouldn’t mind me pulling it over to shelter. I might have to finagle his display table a bit too, which I hope isn’t too much of a bother for him. I doubt it will be. Willy looks a little scary, but he’s the sweetest scruffy old man I’ve ever met. He even calls me his “skipper,” how adorable is that shit?

I head inside, and after chatting with him for a little bit over our respective coffees, I mention the bench thing to Willy. He gladly accepts, and insists on helping me move it, too.

“Don’t want you splintering yourself on that old thing. How will you become a vicious angler like me if you’re injured?!”

Yoba bless this man.

I get comfy, and begin to line out the general shape of my land, when I suddenly see a black blob out of the corner of my eye. I look up, and see that it’s on the opposite side of the docks from me. Is that a person? What other sick fuck around here would be just chilling in the rain? I observe them for a moment. Wearing all black, appears to have black hair, too… hmm…

“Sebastian?” I shout from where I’m seated.

The figure turns towards me, and I can make out a face. Oooh fuck yes, it is Seb! My heart does a little dance at the realization. Why am I so excited to see him again? If Sam is a golden retriever, I must be a fuckin’ chihuahua.

I wave, as does he. I don’t expect him to move, but he begins to descend back towards the beach. I probably disturbed him, he said something once about enjoying the ocean best when he’s alone . I frown to myself.

I try not to think about it too much and get back to work. Maybe I could put a pathway around the land, some sort of brick or stone, so that I don’t risk stepping all over the crops when I’m in a hurry… I sketch it out roughly, to get an idea of what that could look like. Yeah, let’s do that, that would be sick!

I hear quiet footsteps advancing towards me. The person coming smells like smoke, and pine-scented deodorant or body spray. I smile before even looking — and I decide not to look, not wanting my focus to waver. I just continue sketching, as Seb sits down next to me.

I feel his breath on my now-bare shoulder, and quite frankly, it activates something feral in me. I wanna kiss this stupid freak so fucking badly. I won’t, obviously, but like, imagine? Either way, why is he so close?

I look at him, and he’s so much closer to me than I even thought oh my god , peering down at my drawing. For someone who’s supposedly just as anxious as I am around people, he sure does enjoy my presence.

“Is that your farm?”

“Mhm,” I hum as coolly as I can.

“Looks good.” So do you, heh. “Didn’t know you could draw.”

“One of my many mysteries, I guess.”

He gives me a funny look. I wiggle my eyebrows in response, earning a laugh out of him.

“Why’d you come out here in the rain?” I ask.

“For some reason, staring off into the gray horizon, listening to the waves as the raindrops add an ambient filter to the world… it makes me feel...” He pauses. I stop drawing and look at him, so he knows I’m still listening. “I dunno. Like it's worthwhile to keep pushing on, I guess.”

God, that’s deep. I don't really know how to react. My first instinct tells me to comfort him, but does he want that? All he was doing was answering my question.

“Damn, dude,” is all I can think of saying, so I do. Very smooth.

He chuckles, “Sorry, that was kinda bleak, wasn’t it?”

“A little.”

He sighs. “Do you remember that time you came to my house to buy shit from my mom,” he asks, “but instead, we ended up sitting in the kitchen for like an hour, just talking about how weird and shitty life is?”

I nod. I was still fairly new when that happened. Barely knew either Robin or Seb yet.

It was sometime in the afternoon, maybe 1- or 2pm. He’d come up from his room, which is apparently in the basement, looking like he’d just woken up. He had a groggy look to him, but his hair was wet and he smelled so fucking good — like one of those Man Flavored™ body washes that I’ve used before… might’ve been some kinda Old Spice? — indicating that he’d just showered.

Seb had emerged right when I was about to leave, given Robin was away at an aerobics class. He was headed to the kitchen for food and invited me to join him, and I mean, why wouldn’t I? He’s irresistible and I was hungry.

He made himself some coffee, and plated up a bunch of toast with a spread of cream cheese, tomatoes, and raw salmon atop it. Interesting combo, especially since I’m not one to eat animals very often, but it banged .

While we ate — and afterward — we just sorta ranted to one another. We already knew about what school and shit were like for one another because of our drunken rambles a few nights prior. But this time, it got more in-depth.

Seb talked about his freelance work, making web pages and game codes and whatever else is really needed by his clients. How he could easily make six figures if he’d gone to school for the same profession and joined the corporate world. He knows the ins and outs of nearly every coding language on the market, and some niche ones, too.

He’s experienced enough to have been well-established in any corner of the industry by now, had he gone that route.

But Seb knew it would’ve been a terrible idea to ground himself to a company. He knows his social limits, and that there’s no way he’d get by in an office surrounded by people day in and day out. People make him anxious, and he works better without ‘em looming over him all the time.

That stuff led into talking about how absolutely miserable working for Joja was. I’d gotten a psychology degree on scholarship (to which he called me a “fucking nerd,” affectionately), but couldn’t afford to get a higher education after graduating. My brain felt fried so I couldn’t bring myself to seek out more scholarships or anything for experience either. So, I applied everywhere I could for a job instead.

Joja was one of those throwaways applications. I didn’t want to work there, but it was hiring. I said “fuck it,” half-assed my application and cover letter, more applying just to say I did than to win a position. Unfortunately, it was the only place out of dozens that gave me a chance, so I took it.

I told Seb how they had cameras in every cubicle, how we were given designated resting time. The latter half sounds good on paper, but it was no more than a few minutes for every few hours of work.

We were expected to do unpaid overtime on a regular basis and we only got bonuses if we kissed enough ass. That entailed snitching on others’ mistakes, buying coffee for the higher-ups, working through our miniscule break times. All things I couldn’t be bothered to do, but they’re apparently a pretty common thing in office environments around here.

Seb had voiced that the conditions I was working in were exactly why he took being a basement hermit over some rich corporate hot-shot any day. And I can’t blame him, obviously. It sucked being stuck like that, and I’m happy he didn’t subject himself to that lifestyle.

Apparently, that’s something the poor dude doesn’t hear often.

Most people encourage him to suck it up and get out in the world anyway. As if he couldn’t possibly know what’s best for himself. As if he’s still just some shy, angsty kid who needs a push, rather than a whole adult man with the ability to make his own decisions about his own life.

“I dunno what possessed me to tell you so much about, like, my work and whatnot,” Seb continues, bringing my mind back to the present. “It was one of the first times I’d opened up about that so much. To like, anyone. That’s the type of stuff I usually think about when I come here to watch the sea,” he smiles.

Seb isn’t looking in my direction, but I can’t keep myself from looking in his. Normally he appears kinda somber, regardless of what he’s doing. Resting bitch face, and all that jazz. But today, with his hair all wet and wavy from the rain, the rosiness on his cheeks from the chilly seaside breeze, and the dreamy gloss over his eyes as he watches the horizon, he looks… serene? Hopeful, maybe. Beautiful, definitely. Like a painting.

“I… typically think the ocean is best enjoyed alone. But there’s something comforting about being here with you.” He gazes down at me, but the dreaminess doesn’t leave his eyes. “Makes me feel happy that I pushed through to get where I am now.”

I do my best to maintain eye contact — something I’m terrible with, but most people like and appreciate it, so I try anyway — and I feel a blush creep up the longer I hold it. Especially as I process his words. I’m making him feel that cozy? Can’t help but feel all giddy over what he said as I smile like a big dummy.

“I’m glad,” I mutter. I’m not used to being essentially told that I’m special or whatever, so I’m dumbfounded. “I hope you keep pushing. You deserve to be happy and successful.”

“I appreciate that.” A few moments pass, and he pops the same line I used on him in my drunken stupor a few weeks ago: “Y’know, you’re really cool.”

The way he said that sounded… an awful lot like an imitation. I glance his way to see if he’s serious or just being a shithead, and he’s narrowing his smug lil’ eyes at me. Definitely being a shithead.

“Make fun of me all you want, but I meant it, nerd,” I finally respond. “I’m an affectionate drunk.”

Seb laughs, and a few more minutes of quiet pass. Just the sound of graphite on paper, our breathing every here and there, and raindrops piercing the docks. He’s still watching me draw, and I might look like I’m doing fine, but the proximity is making my heart go berserk. I could pass out.

He breaks the silence. “Forgot to ask why you’re in the rain. I was surprised to see you out here.”

“I just like it. No deep reasoning behind it.” I squint at him, then giggle as he mirrors my look. “I prefer the cold and dark, over most weather. I’ve got some… sensory issues. So my eyes are really sensitive to sunlight, and sweating underneath it makes me want to frickin’ crawl out of my body.” As I finish the sentence, I look back up at him, and he nods. “The coziness and lack of people is nice too, though.”

“ Fuck, guess I’ll leave.” He slowly stands, the corner of his mouth tilted upward.

“Don’t you dare,” I laugh. I grab his hand (making my own heart go nuts, but that’s unimportant) and tug him back onto the bench. This time, he sits closer than the last, the sides of our hips touching.

More quiet washes over us. I bravely steal a glance, only to find him looking at me too. I’m suddenly reminded of my weird little moment with Sam, not too far from here, and frown at the thought.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“What’s up with Sam?”

“Is this about that night you guys hung out here?”

I let out a sigh and nod. He nods, too.

“So like, that happened and then he started ignoring me completely. Do you know what’s going on?” I ask.

“The guy’s crushing on you. Hard,” Seb bluntly announces, lighting a cigarette. I’m taken aback for a sec before Seb keeps talking. “He’s nervous around you, that might be all there is to it.” He pauses to take a puff and continues, “But, he made it seem like you were enjoying yourself too. So I dunno, what was that about, (y/n)?” He nudges me lightly, as if he’s trying to tease me, but I notice some contempt in his tone.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” Seb repositions himself, rolling his shoulders and scooting away a little. “He told me you let him snuggle up. But you’ve let me get pretty close too I guess,” he gestures at the miniscule amount of space between us, “so that one was easy to brush off,” he half-cheekily side-eyes me. “ But ,” Seb exhales, “he also said to me that he wanted to kiss you, and you weren’t backing out. He did.”

“Jeez, he didn’t make a move!” I defend. “I wasn’t gonna, like… yank myself away and make things weird for possibly no reason at all, ya know? It isn’t fair that he put it entirely on me.” I sigh. “I’m glad he didn’t kiss me. I wouldn’t have wanted that.”

I look at Seb, feeling a weird pang in my belly. It’s hard to read his expression as he shrugs, just staring into the gray skies ahead.

More silence. For the first time since meeting Sebastian, it’s uncomfortable.

I’m sure Sam’s nerves got the best of him while recounting his side of that event , or maybe his perspective really did make it seem like I would just let him kiss me had he decided to. But I don’t like to think of the chance that he just depicted me like I was eager to take whatever he was gonna give me.

Is that what these guys think of me?

“For fuck’s sake…” I mumble to myself. Seb hums questioningly. “I just wanted to be friends with him,” I barely even whisper.

Breathe, (y/n).

I lift up my sketchbook and rest it against my forehead, leaning my elbows into my knees.

In the past, I’ve gotten taken advantage of easily because I cared too much, too quickly. Too blindly . I have a track record with not being great at making or keeping friends. It always just led to betrayal in some shape or form, with me being blamed for being the one who’s “attracting toxicity,” or whatever the fuck.

It sucks to have nobody there for you, even more when you don’t know what you’re doing wrong. And nobody tells you if you're doing anything wrong. If there even is anything wrong.

I really hope that’s not the case with Sam. It doesn’t seem like a very Sam thing to do — befriending someone just to fuck ‘em over, or fuck ‘em, or whatever.

But what do I know?

I gave up on trying to find friends for the longest time, partially because of a lack of access to people I'd mesh alright with, but mostly because I’m terrified to go through all that garbage once more.

I came here for a fresh start, but maybe humans will be just as shitty wherever I end up.

Maybe I'm just shitty.

I can feel my chest tighten more and more, my heart pounding faster and faster, as I’m flooded with recollections of the abuse I’ve endured from those “friends,” from exes, from my parents, my bosses, myself …

I’m trying to just fucking breathe and exist in the moment and accept that bad things happen and it’ll be okay. I’m trying to ground myself. There’s a whole other person next to me watching me break down and I want to be calm to save us both the embarrassment.

To save him from seeing how worthless and pathetic I am.

But I should’ve known that as soon as I started spiraling into thoughts of my past, it would be useless to try and stop myself.

I can think back as fondly as I want about my youth, but it doesn’t erase the several attempts to end it all.

The years I spent starving myself, just to feel like I had some control over my body and life.

The nights I passed out alone in my college dorm, while my roommates were out drinking and partying with their friends.

The early mornings that were my nights spent sobbing as I cradled myself in bed, sometimes digging my nails so hard into my sides that I bled onto the sheets.

The hours every few days that were spent sobbing and cradling myself on the shower floor, blood racing down my arms and legs and stomach instead.

The days I couldn’t stay awake after spending hours upon hours in pure mental anguish, because existing was so fucking exhausting.

What if I’m just some stupid game to be played in Sam’s eyes? In everyone’s eyes?

What if Sebastian is the exact same way?

How do I know he isn’t going to just do the same thing everyone else has?

How do I know I won’t relapse, or worse, try to off myself again down the line?

What if moving here didn’t change a single fucking thing?

Existing is still exhausting, I’ve just pushed it aside more as the years went on.

I can only push it for so long.

I just want it to stop.

I don’t want to keep going through this shit.

I just want to di —

I’m brought back to reality by two lean, strong arms enveloping me. One hand is rubbing my spine, and the other is caressing the back of my head. I sniffle a giant string of snot — nice one, (y/n). I hadn’t even realized that I started crying.

I sort of just sit there, phasing in and out of conscious thought for a while. Could be minutes, could be hours. I’ve got no idea.

All I know is that Sebastian is kneeling in front of me, our chests pressed together as we breathe deeply. Accidentally in unison. Two metronomes working in harmony. He's embracing me as if I would float away without his arms to anchor me in place. Softly whispering the sweetest and most soothing things into my ear: "I'm here, I always will be." "You're safe. Everything will be okay." "You're doing so great, (y/n)." "Focus on your breathing." Etcetera.

This is the first time someone’s been here for me, physically or metaphorically, at a time like this. And this is the safest I’ve ever felt in my entire life.

“I’m sorry,” I whimper out when I can muster it.

He shakes his head and hugs me tighter. “Is this still ok, or do you need space?” he whispers.

I try to speak, but no more than a whimper comes out. I just hug him back as hard as I can, unable to control the guttural sobs that pour out after.

__________________

Never in a million years did I think my first time seeing Seb’s room would be after having a pretty severe anxiety attack right in front of him. Never in 2 million did I think I’d even have an anxiety attack in front of him, ever.

I feel like such a loser.

During my situation , I tensed up my muscles enough that I couldn’t really move afterward, so Sebastian piggybacked me all the way to his house up in the mountains. I told him not to, that I’d be fine, and I could’ve just walked home when I felt better — but he didn’t want me to be alone. He scolded me for being stubborn, and with how sensitive I was feeling, it worked. Made me cry a little more too. But he made sure to apologize for that, which I thought was really adorable.

I’m thankful he did this. Even if it is extremely embarrassing. Only Yoba knows how much further I would’ve plummeted if I were solitary.

When we got here, Seb put me down to wrap me up in a blanket, and scooped me back up bridal style, claiming he didn’t trust my “anxious jelly legs.” He wanted to put me in his bed, but I adamantly tried to argue against it, not wanting to get it all wet from the rain on my clothes.

“Just put me on one of those stools. I’ll be okay and I can snoop on your Solarian OCs until I’m good to walk again, and I’ll be out of your way in no time!”

“(Y/n), I’m not letting you sit on one of those pieces of junk in the condition you’re in.”

“Ughhhhhhh.”

“And also you don’t need to snoop, because you and I are going to play that together sometime, okay?” While he was saying that, he tried easing me onto his mattress, as if threatening a good time would distract me. That sly bitch! I clung on for dear life.

“Sick, cool, looking forward to it, but I’m still not letting your bed get all gross you bastard! Let me go!”

He stopped, sat up straight, and looked into my soul with his, at the time, dead fish eyes. “Let you go?”

“Uh—”

“Ok!” Still maintaining eye contact as he cut me off, and smiling hellishly, he did as I asked!

Right over his bed.

I started to get cold, even in the blanket — this basement is fucking freezing — therefore, I’m in his clothes now. I wasn’t about to fight him on this one too, and risk him changing me. I wouldn’t doubt that it’s something he’d do, for my sake, and I’d just wind up feeling even more pathetic. He chose to sacrifice one of his several signature black hoodies, and a pair of black pajama pants, that have little blue, green and purple Junimos on them.

…And so here I am, sipping the perfectly brewed jasmine tea Sebastian made me. Snacking on the perfectly baked cookies Robin made for us, after hearing about what had happened to me. In his bedroom — and his bed . While wearing his clothes.

58 notes · View notes

artzychic27 · 1 year

Text

Incorrect Quote Time!

Mme. Bustier: *Gesturing to graffiti on the front door that reads, School is Dumb* ‘School is Dumb’?! ‘School is Dumb’?!

Cosette: Yeah! School is dumb! School is-! *Sees the graffiti* Oh.

—

Aurore: And maybe when Lila trapped us, she was, depressed.

Lacey: Yeah? Well, I was bummed when I didn’t get asked to homecoming! But did I lure the cast of Full House into my basement and torture Uncle Jesse?

—

Austin A: *Sniffs the air* Ew. What’s that smell?

Marinette: It’s my new perfume.

Austin A: Oh. Is it called, Le Poop?

—

Lila: You will never besmirch the name of my chicken! You apologize to Febritzio right now!

Ismael: Ah shove it, Lila!

Lila: I will not shove it. But I will give Nathaniel the spins! *Presses the button, and the wheel spins again*

Nathaniel: Oh, no. I'm moving again! Why is it turning? What's happeniiiinnnnngggg?! Aah!

Marc: Just apologize to the chicken!!!

Nathaniel: I'm so very dizzy!

Ismael: Fine! *To Febritzio* I'm sorry I b'smeared your name by calling you stupid... And that I've eaten many of your relatives.

—

*Denise and Simon walk in the classroom with something wrapped in a blanket*

Denise: My prima brought her baby over. Wanna meet him?

*The Science Kids crowd around them, wanting to meet the baby*

Simon: Alright, he just woke up from his nap...

*Reshma holds her arms out, and Denise drops the “baby” on the floor*

Science Kids: AAHHHH!!/OH MY GOD!/I KILLED IT!

Denise: You thought you killed a baby! Haha! He’s not real!

Simon: HAPPY HALLOWEEN, LOSERS!

Denise: *Kicks the fake baby away* I kicked the baby! Gooooaaaallll!!! *Runs around the room*

Simon: *Dances in place* Hahaha!

—

*Mme. Bustier barges into the locker room where she finds Terry the lobster in Jean's locker. Lacey rushes in and pretends to be oblivious*

Lacey: Oh my God! What is Terry doing here?! Jean, what did you do?!

—

*The Miraculous Kids break down the doors to the school and brandish their weapons*

Lapin (Aurore): Finally! We got that thing open!

Alya: You? Where are the other heroes?

King Cobra (Ismael): We killed them, ripped their Miraculous off their bodies, and ate their livers.

Everyone: 😮

King Cobra: Gotcha, didn’t I?

Bronco (Simon): We’re just messing. The other heroes are fine, just incapacitated.

—

Cosette: *After the Austins leave* Those were the rudest people I have ever had to be polite to!

—

Aurore: Apparently, we’re the Diddley-Bops!

Ismael: And we’re here to sing you a special song!

Jean: All about your favorite foods!

Chris: Sing about dinosaurs!

Marc: *Cheerfully* Noooo!

—

Lacey: Hiiiiiiiiiiiii.

Marc: Well, howdy there, idiot farm girl.

Lacey: I brought your squirrel some peanuts. *She holds up a bag of peanuts*

Marc: Uh, squirrel?

Lacey: Uh-huh. That squirrel. *Points to his fake mustache*

Marc: Now, now there, little sugar munch. These here whisker on our face ain't nary no squirrel. These here's a mushystash.

Lacey: Here you go, little squirrel! *She shoves some peanuts in his faces*

Marc: Hey! Hey now! Quit shovin' yer penuttes into my mustach! Ya dumb veggie burger!

Ismael: Hiiii!

Lacey: Looky! That's my brother, Clem!

Marc: Nice to meetcha there, Clem.

Ismael: Ahhh!! Squirrel!!! *He slingshots his mustaches*

Marc: Ouches! Ya slang-sheeted my mustache!!’ *Ismael slingshots him again* Ow! Where's your respect for cowboys?!

—

And now for a bunch of Ghostbusters quotes

Marc: Get out of my friend, Akuma! *He slaps Jean, forcing the Akuma out of him*

Jean: Ow! That's gonna leave a mark!

Marc: The power of Anciel compels you! *Slaps him again*

Jean: Ow!

*Marc keeps slapping him*

Denise: Ma-Marc! The Akuma left.

Marc: Oh, seriously? Is that you, Jean?

—

Leonardo (Denise): Oh Lord, have mercy! *Stoneheart steps on the Miraculous Kids* This is just wrong!

Rooster Bold: I can't move my hand! I can't reach my knife!

Wyvern (Cosette): You guys, this is exactly how I pictured my death!

Hamlet (Jean): Come on!

—

Cosette: *She turns tv off* Well, it's official. We're all ‘The Animal Kids’ now.

Marc: All right, I would like to remind everybody here that in a very short amount of time, we have seen multiple Class 4 Akumas.

Aurore: Yeah. We did. Who cares what anybody else is saying about us? We know what we're doing. I mean, all morning, I've been reading about this stuff. There's sightings all over the city. *Reads newspaper* "Parrot spirit sighted at 6th and 26th."

Ismael: Another one, *Reads paper* "Spectral polar bear on 63rd and 5th." Then there was that weeping wall in the thrift store at Chelsea.

Zoé: ... Did you say 6th and 26th?

Aurore: Yeah. "Parrot spirit, 6th and 26th."

Zoé: *She gets out a map of New York, and starts marking locations* 6th and 26th. Okay. 6th and 26th. Um, Northwest Mansion. Um, Upper West Side. 70... 72nd. Um, where did we find the first device?

Denise: Uh, at the subway, right here. *Points to the map*

Zoé: Okay. Theater. Downtown.

Lacey: Downtown?

Zoé: Yeah, yes. In here. Okay, Ismael, what was the other address you said?

Ismael: Polar bear on 63rd and 5th Avenue.

Zoé: And the one in Chelsea?

Ismael: Uh... Chelsea is at 10th Avenue and 18th.

Zoé: 18th. 10th and 18th. Uh. *She connects the marks together, and they form an X* What do those look like to you?

Reshma: *Tilts her head* Just an X.

Aurore: … Ley lines. Ley lines!

Mireille: What's "ley lines"?

Aurore: It's a hidden network of energy lines that run across the Earth. It's a current of energy caused by when the Miraculous merged with our world.

Marc: Supposedly, if you look at sacred sites and weird events all over the world, and connect them with lines where they intersect, it's an unusually powerful spot. Aurore and I just dismissed this theory because it just seemed too random to have any merit.

Ismael: Dismiss this! *He compares the map to one in a book with the exact same markings*

Marc: Okay. That looks like it's got some merit...

Simon: ... They’re using the devices to charge the ley lines... They’re creating a vortex!

Denise: I’m sorry, what?

Jean: Oh, boy.

Simon: Okay, if this person gets one of their machines in there and it's big enough, they’re gonna be able to rip a hole right through that barrier!

Mireille: Letting whatever's on that plane come crashing down on this plane.

Ismael: Okay, I'm calling this in. *He pulls out his phone*

Cosette: That intersection right there between 7th and 8th. What is there now?

Zoé: The Mercado. That actually makes sense.

Ismael: *Speaking with someone* Okay, yes, I'm looking for Majestia and Knight Owl

Zoé: The Mercado has one of the weirdest histories of the buildings in New York.

Simon: Okay, so it's your standard-issue haunted building?

Zoé: No, this is even before it was a building. All sorts of massacres happened at that spot. Like the peaceful trade between the Lenape Native Americans and Captain Warren. Then, all of a sudden, everybody dies. Roberts Stals, the pianist from the twenties? Did a show right in that spot and a stage light fell right on top of him. Few years after that, a restaurant opened up. Everyone got food poisoning, died of typhoid flu, and there was a kitchen fire that burned the whole place down.

Coraline: *Sees the picture of the Mercado staff and notices Gabriel* Oh, my God, you guys. This is the dude that was at the subway, that was talking about the cataclysms!

Lacey: That is him! Oh, it's always the sad, pale ones!

Marc: Okay, people, let's gear up and hit that Mercado!

Zoé: Who's in the mood to save New York City?!

—

Roger: These children are criminals, mayor! They use sense and nerve gasses to make people believe they’re seeing monsters, and then conveniently show up dressed as brightly colored animals to deal with the problem with the fake theatrical light show!

Simon: Everything was fine with our system until the power grid was shut off by dickless here.

Roger: They caused an explosion!

Mayor: Is this true?

Simon: … Yes. It’s true… This man has no dick.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #mlb ocs #incorrect quotes #ml incorrect quotes #science kids #random post

18 notes · View notes

kakyoinscheryblush · 1 year

Text

Those Summer Nights [Jotaro Kujo x reader]

Summary: After Y/n's family sold their small farm in the outskirts, she moved into a completely new town and was forced to enroll into a new high school. She thought she would miss the life she had to leave behind, but after moving into the lavish West side, she changed her mind.

But that would soon change after her car gets vandalized and she has to seek help from a certain mechanic from the East side of town...

This work is originally posted on Ao3 on my profile @Tena_HH

Masterlist << Next chapter

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

Chapter one, Not so warm welcome

It was just another spring afternoon on a Saturday, in a small countryside named Daleville.

Daleville was a pretty rural town with many family owned businesses and farms. And one of them was the poultry farm owned by the L/n family. The farm was passed down by the generations, and it was thriving.

But, two years ago in 1967., a highway was built a kilometer away from Daleville, connecting it to more cities.

For the first year, the residents of Daleville were ecstatic about the new highway since it meant a better connection to the other markets.

But time passed and the year 1969. came, and so did the more traffic. This stressed out the animals and polluted the environment of Daleville. The residents complained to the mayor but he did nothing.

This caused the residents of Daleville to slowly start moving out and find jobs in other towns. The L/n family tried to save their farm by selling the chickens, ducks and geeses, which only lasted until 1969. When all they had left were ten chickens…

And this was the sign that they needed to move out of Daleville…

“N/n! Come help me move the luggage!”

The h/c haired girl sighed as she stopped in her tracks with a chicken in her arms, “I’m coming dad! I just need to place the last hen in their coop!” she exclaimed as she walked to the wooden coop.

“There you go, Clover.” Y/n muttered as she placed the brown hen on the ground, counted all the other hens and the coop after closing it.

She walked to the old red pickup truck with lots of bags and cardboard boxes.

“The buyer will arrive soon to collect the hens and after that's done, we can go.” F/n said with a sigh as he dusted off his jeans.

Y/n nodded her head motionesly, “Alright, I’ll go say goodbye to my friends.” she said as she walked off her family property and started to walk down the road until she reached another house.

She looked around and noticed a ginger haired girl walking out on her porch. “Vickie! Vickie!” Y/n shouted as she rushed into the huge yard and onto Vickie’s porch.

“Y/n! Woah! Calm down!” Vickie grabbed her shoulders and looked Y/n in her eyes.

“... You came to say goodbye?” Vickie muttered as she let go of Y/n’s shoulders and looked at the ground. Y/n sighed and nodded her head slowly, “Yeah, I did.” she replied shortly.

All of a sudden Vickie hugged Y/n, to which she hugged Vickie even tighter.

“I’m sorry, Vick-'' but Vickie interrupted her with a slight sob, “D-Don’t apologize N/n… It's not your fault.” the ginger haired girl murmured as she let go of Y/n.

“I’ll miss you though… You better write me letters!” Vickie rubbed the stray tear away from her brown eyes and Y/n laughed.

“Of course I will! I’ll even find you a boyfriend.” she joked and Vickie blushed.

“Good God no! Mom would kill me! Thank goodness she’s still on the farmers market…” Vickie sighed in relief and grabbed Y/n’s hand.

"While we’re at that- She baked some cookies this morning! If you have time you can stay here and try them! She used some kind of new recipe…” Vickie laughed and Y/n nodded her head.

They went inside Vickie’s house and entered the kitchen where Vickie gave Y/n a plate full of cookies.

They ate them and decided to play with her barn cat, Jasper. After about one hour, Y/n had to head back to her home.

“I really have to go now, Vick.” Y/n muttered sadly as they walked to the entrance of Vickie’s yard.

Vickie nodded her head and for the last time hugged Y/n, “Don’t get in any trouble there, okay?” she asked jokingly to which Y/n laughed.

“I’ll try not to… I’ll write to you soon Vickie! Goodbye!” Y/n released Vickie and dashed onto the gravel road and ran back to her home.

After a few minutes she noticed her family standing near the red pickup truck, waiting for her.

F/n smiled at his daughter and motioned to the back of the pickup where a furry head popped out. “Someone was impatient to see you.” he laughed as the black and white border collie barked in excitement.

“Bucky! Ready to go?” Y/n cooed to the dog as she went to pet his head. She adjusted his red collar with his name tag on it and motioned for him to jump down.

“Good boy!” Y/n cheered and looked at her parents who started to get into the pickup truck.

“Let’s go in.” Y/n said as she opened the doors of the back of the car and let Bucky in first and then got in. “Is everybody ready?” F/n asked and Y/n and M/n nodded their heads and Bucky barked.

F/n started the car and they started to drive out of the now empty and silent property.

Y/n let Bucky rest his head in her lap, sensing her sadness to which she lightly smiled as she started to pet him.

Her father turned on the radio in hopes to cheer up the atmosphere but as he looked at the rearview mirror, Y/n’s expression was still sad.

“Sweetie, I know Daleville meant so much to you, and it meant a lot to us too… But you have to look on the bright side of everything! Winfield is an amazing town with far more stuff than we had here in Daleville… Besides, me and your mother met the new neighbors and they are extremely nice! I’m not saying you shouldn’t be feeling sorrowful about all of this, but do try to give Winfield a chance, okay?” F/n said and Y/n looked at him.

“I’ll try to… But tell me more about the neighbors- Oh! And what about the high school you told me you enrolled me in?” Y/n asked and M/n started to explain everything.

And so they drove five and half hours to the town of Winfield…

They entered the town and Y/n looked around, gaping at the sight. There were neon signs (and since it was evening they were lit up), countless diners and shopping malls. This was a complete opposite to Daleville.

“And? What do you think?” M/n asked as she smiled at Y/n. The h/c haired girl closed her mouth and grinned at her mother, “It looks so lavish! When I’m going to send letters to Vickie she’s gonna be so jealous!” she chuckled and Bucky happily wagged his tail as he too looked out the window.

F/n laughed as they drove through the busy road of Winfield. After a few minutes the music, the chater, the lights died out and a peaceful ambience set in.

They drove past huge houses and some of them even had pools. They stopped in front of a medium two-story house with a garage and huge backyard.

On the left side was a house similar to theirs and on the right side was a much bigger house with a giant pool and what not.

“On the right are the neighbors I’ve told you about and after we move all the boxes in, we’re going to have dinner with them!” M/n gushed as she got out of the car and began to take out the boxes and other luggage.

Y/n looked at the huge three-story house of their new neighbors as she and Bucky got out of the pickup truck.

“Dear! You can take your boxes and bags and I’ll show you your room!” M/n exclaimed as she opened the doors of the house and turned on the lights.

“Alright! I’m coming.” Y/n said as she went to the back of the pickup truck and opened the tailgate and took out her suitcase and a small box.

She walked down the stone pathway and into her new house. It was much bigger than the house she had in Daleville….

“Upstairs is one big bathroom, our bedroom, your bedroom and a guest room. Down here we have the kitchen, another bathroom, living room and pantry room. You can go upstairs and look at your new room! Thank God the house came fully furnished…” M/n sighed as she put down some boxes she was holding.

Y/n nodded her head and walked upstairs and saw four doors, two on each side. She opened the first revealing a huge room with a king sized bed. This must be her parents room. Next to it was the bathroom.

Which left her with two other rooms. She opened the doors revealing a dull colored room with white walls and mostly white furniture. Maybe this was her room?

Y/n decided to check out the last room which revealed the similar room but with a much bigger bed and bigger closet.

This must be her room!

As she was about to look around, shouting of her mother echoed around the house.

“Y/n! Come downstairs immediately!” M/n shouted and Y/n rushed down the stairs. “What is it mom-” Y/n went to say but was interrupted by noticing a boy her age and what seemed to be his mother standing in their doorway.

Y/n looked at her mom with a confused expression as she went to stand next to her.

“As I was saying, Dianne, this is my only daughter Y/n!” M/n motioned for Y/n to greet the boy and the lady.

“Hello.” Y/n simply waved and the woman, now known as Dianne, laughed.

“Oh, Tommy dear, she’s so shy! There's no need to be shy around us munchkins! And here you go, fresh cookies I baked for your family's welcome gift.” Dianne smiled warmly as she walked inside and handed Y/n the plate covered in tinfoil to which she smiled and thanked Dianne.

She took a better look at both of them and noted their appearance. Rich and posh.

Dianne was wearing a brown knee length pencil skirt, a cream blouse with brown flats. While her Tommy dear , was wearing black pants with a blue polo shirt and a silver wrist watch.

They both had dirty blonde hair and brown eyes, though Tommy’s hair was slicked back and his mothers was done in updo.

“Well, why don’t we head to our house for dinner?” Dianne said and M/n nodded, “Of course! Tommy and Y/n, you can go, me and Dianne have to talk about something.” M/n said as she motioned for them to walk out.

Y/n glanced at Tommy who only smiled politely and stepped out of the doorway and onto the porch, “Ready to go?” he asked sweetly. Y/n nodded hesitantly as she followed suit.

“So… I heard from my mother that you got enrolled into Rydell High School and into my class.” Tommy began to say as they walked over to his house.

“Yeah, I’m starting on monday… Can you tell me more about the school?” Y/n asked as they walked down the stone pathway and reached his doors.

“Of course, but first, call me Thomas… I hate when people call me Tommy. It makes me seem like I am a child or something.” Tommy rolled his eyes as they entered his huge house.

“So, Tommy… isn’t your real name?” Y/n asked in confusion and Tommy looked down at her, “It is, but as I said, it sounds like you’re referring to a child and not me. So stick with Thomas.” he said as he stopped.

Tommy, or as he preferred, Thomas , smirked at Y/n and showed her the huge living room and dining room.

“It’s pretty spacious I must say… Did you have a similar house like you have now at… what is it called? Davevill? Danvill?” Tommy asked and Y/n slightly frowned.

“It's called Daleville, and no, I didn’t. But can we go back on track? I really need to know more about Rydell High…” Y/n said but before Tommy could respond a distant hissing could be heard, coming from the white couch in the living room.

“Uh… Thomas? What was that-” Y/n asked and Tommy smiled, “Oh! That’s my cat, Princess. She doesn’t like new people…” he laughed as he walked to the couch and picked up the hissing feline.

The blue-eyed feline glared at Y/n as she swished her fluffy tail in Tommy’s arms. “She’s such a sweetheart isn’t she…” Tommy cooed as he pet Princess’ head.

“She really looks like one…” Y/m mumbled anxiously as she noticed the cat's diamond collar. [Princess’ look reference, with the collar https://imgur.com/a/3PNSUCi ]

“I hope you don’t own a dog or something, because my dear baby absolutely hates mutts.” Tommy said and Y/n sweated nervously.

“About that…” she laughed awkwardly and Tommy glanced at her with furrowed eyebrows.

“Oh God… Please keep that dog of yours inside or something…” Tommy said as she put Princess onto the floor and she hissed at Y/n and ran off.

“Bucky is a poultry guard dog, so he always stays outside, I mean if you want to buy him a new dog house, I’ll gladly let you.” Y/n laughed and Tommy rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, dinner will be ready in a minute and I think our fathers are outside talking about… whatever they are. Let's get back to the topic of school.” Tommy said as he motioned for Y/n to sit at the set up dining table opposite of him.

Tommy adjusted the collar of his polo shirt and cleared his throat, “You see, in Rydell High, we have these… how do I word it… groups. Us from the West side, and the hooligans from the poorer East side. They vandalize, mug, steel- you get the point. I advise you to not associate with them under any circumstances.” Tommy said and Y/n looked at him weirdly.

“Really? And how do I… recognize them?” Y/n asked, still weirded out by Tommy’s statement.

Tommy scoffed, “They wear those stupid leather jackets and their hair greased up. They smell like car oil mixed with cigarette ash. You’ll notice them from a mile away.” he said while rolling his eyes.

Y/n just nodded her head, not knowing what to say. Such a divide didn’t exist in Daleville and thankfully so…

Tommy’s expression changed to a grinning one as he looked at Y/n, “But no need to worry about those delinquents, because I’ll be showing you around Rydell High on Monday. I’ll be waiting for you at the school entrance at 7:30 a.m. Alright?” he said and Y/n was quiet for a few moments until she nodded slowly.

“Okay… I know where it is since I saw it on my way to my house.” Y/n said and Tommy nodded his head.

“I think you’ll fit in absolutely perfectly… Just drop those jeans and beat up sneakers.” Tommy muttered as he pointed to Y/n slightly bleached out jeans and old worn out sneakers.

Y/n gave a dirty look to Tommy but was interrupted by their families entering the house, so she put on a polite smile.

They talked and ate the food and after they finished the L/n’s bid their goodbye to their new neighbors and went back to their new house.

Once they finally moved all the boxes and bags inside, Y/n put fresh water and food into Bucky’s bowls in the spacious backyard and went back to her room.

She put her desk lamp on her desk, plugged it in and turned it on, giving her room a soft glow. The desk lamp was the last thing she needed to unpack from her stuff and she sighed tiredly.

“Time to get ready for sleep.” Y/n muttered out as she took a set of pajamas with her to the bathroom and got ready.

She went back to her room and jumped on her bed, so she was facing the ceiling.

‘I already miss Daleville… But I guess I need to listen to dad and give this town a chance… And if that fuckface Tommy tries to say something rude… I’ll punch his teeth out…’ Y/n thoughts drifted off as she fell asleep on her new bed.

Maybe her new life in Winfield won’t be so bad after all?

#jjba x reader #jjba #jotaro kujo #jotaro #jotaro x y/n #jotaro x you #greasers #AU #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo no kimyō na bōken #Outsiders inspired #Grease inspired #rydell high #male oc #cars

25 notes · View notes

kelyon · 1 year

Text

Dark Mistress 30: Connection

Belle and Bae try to get along

Read on AO3

There was snow on the ground, the first time Belle went outside the cottage. It was not quite midwinter, just a week or two before the solstice, when every day was shorter and every night was darker than the last.

She tried not to credit her recovery to the long nights and the killing cold. The Dark One’s power was not elemental like some petty fire mage or water witch. Her magic fed on the darkness of the human heart, not the mere absence of sunshine. It was much more likely that her newfound strength had come from rest and warmth, from good food and loving care. From Rumple, to be precise.

He walked with her, on this experimental journey around the farm. She was getting used to walking again, instead of relying on her magic to let her float through the air. One of her legs didn’t fully support her weight, so Rumple gallantly took her arm to make sure she didn’t stumble.

Neither of them mentioned the fact that her injury was on the same side that had once hobbled him. When Belle looked at her own ankle, she could see the same spiderweb of scars that had once distorted his. But her scars were already fainter, and she was already steadier than he had ever been. She had taken his pain into herself, and her magical body was slowly absorbing it along with everything else she had endured. After all her love had given her, she was glad to take on this burden for him.

She was bundled up in leather boots he had bought for her at the market, a hat and scarf he had knitted, and the blanket from his bed, draped over her shoulders like a shawl. With her powers slowly coming back to her, she didn’t particularly need protection from the cold, but she wore them anyway. She treasured the items for what they meant, not just what they could do for her.

Step by step, Rumple helped her cross the short distance from the cottage to the barn.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he encouraged her. “How do you feel?”

“Fine, fine.” She panted as she walked, the cloud of her breath showing in the blue twilight.

“You can sit and catch your breath once we get to the barn.”

Nodding, Belle pressed on.

It was warmer inside than she would have thought. With the walls around them, they were out of the wind. The animals provided their own heat as they huddled together, the sheep in their pen and the chickens in their coop. Cats that might have scurried away in warmer weather would not be moved from their straw nests. Rumple helped Belle lower herself onto a three-legged stool in front of the sheep pen.

To her surprise, one of the sheep separated from the herd. It trotted out to the edge of the pen and stood in front of Belle.

“Um.” She looked up at Rumple. “Does it want something?”

Rumple crouched down and petted the tuft of wool on the sheep’s head. “This is Dabbey, Gideon’s wetnurse. She thinks we’re here to milk her.”

“Oh,” she said.

Tentatively, she reached out her claw to the sheep. Last winter, when Rumple had first invited her to his home, Belle had observed his livestock from a distance. She’d been no more substantial than a foul temper, but the animals had sensed her and known to fear her. Now, with her physical body, this sheep sniffed at her hand and experimentally tried to nibble on her fingers.

“Is it afraid?” she asked Rumple softly. “Can you tell?”

“Usually with sheep it’s safe to assume they’re afraid any time they’re awake,” he grinned. “But Dabbey’s standing here of her own choosing. She would run back to the others, if she thought she needed to.”

Once the sheep lost interest in smelling her hand, it turned its head away. Carefully, Belle spread her fingers over the animal’s neck. The white of her scales shone out against the dirt-covered wool.

“Go ahead,” Rumple said, as if he could read her mind and see what she wanted to do.

Slowly, Belle buried her hand in the wool. The sheep stayed where it was, even though it could run. It wasn’t afraid of her.

Belle closed her eyes. She let herself savor the warmth and the softness and the trust of this creature. The feeling seemed to flow between the two of them, that she trusted Dabbey as much as Dabbey trusted her. This was the sheep that fed her son, that kept him alive when she couldn’t. Belle owed her a debt.

“You’re a good sheep,” she whispered. She allowed the slightest trickle of magic to seep out of her and into the animal. It glowed purple-black in the dim barn. This was payment for all that Dabbey had done, and all that she would do. “You’re going to stay a good sheep for a long time. You’re not going to get sick, and you’re not going to run out of milk for as long as Gideon needs you.”

It was the closest the Dark One’s magic could get to a blessing. Belle lifted her hand out of the wool and stroked Dabbey a few times, to soothe her and praise her, and because she liked doing it.

When she looked up at Rumple, he was gazing at her. Belle’s face went hot.

“I guess I should have asked before doing that,” she said by way of apology.

Rumple just shrugged. “It’s alright. I’m not afraid of your magic.”

He really wasn’t. He never had been. Time and again, Belle had tried to explain the price, and time and again Rumple told her he would pay it.

When he helped her up off the stool, she was a little less steady than she had been before. Of course, Rumple didn’t begrudge her that either.

“I like having an excuse to be this close.” He held her from behind and murmured into her hair. “Thank you for letting me take care of you.”

Belle leaned into his embrace and kissed his stubbled cheek. She thought back to all the times she had pulled away from his touch, forbidden him to show how much he loved her.

“I was a fool,” she said. “Every time I tried to stop you from caring about me.”

“You were afraid,” he assured her. His arms wrapped around her waist, pressing her against his body. “I know all about being afraid, being weak. But it’s not so bad when you have someone you’re not ashamed to be weak around.”

“Mmm.” Belle closed her eyes and remembered how her spinner would offer his weakness up to her. Kneeling at her feet, doubling over in pain, surrendering himself entirely to her desires. “You never were ashamed, were you, my love?”

“Never.” He kissed her neck. “Never with you, Mistress.”

The sound of that name sent a delicious shiver up Belle’s spine. When was the last time he had called her that? They had made love in stolen moments over the past few months, but when was the last time they had reveled in each other?

Outside the barn, the sky had grown dark while the snow gleamed white. Still holding her, Rumple looked up.

“It’s a full moon,” he said huskily.

Belle chuckled. “You want to go to the clearing?”

“If you’re up for it.” He kissed her ear as he whispered. “I’ll let you decide if it would take too much magic to take us there, maybe give me a warming charm, and then--” he shuddered “--do whatever you want to me.”

Stumbling a little, Belle turned so that she was facing him. She held his face in her hands. “I love you,” she assured him. “And I want you. I want to see you naked and spread out on the ground like a feast for me to consume while you quiver with desire and your cock threatens to burst.”

One hand gripped him by the hair. She pulled herself up to kiss him. His mouth opened for her, yielding, begging for her domination. She gave him what he wanted. She took him into her mouth and with one kiss she made him her own, made him her creature, her love-slave, her Spinner.

When they separated, his eyes were dark. His lips were too stunned to close. His hands shook, even as he tried to hold her upright.

She let him go. Belle braced her hands against his chest. It kept them connected, and gave her an easy way to lean against him. Just then, she couldn’t tell if she was dizzy with desire or if she was about to collapse from exhaustion. It seemed both of them were overwhelmed by the passions they could bring out of each other--even after everything they’d been through.

“But right now,” she said, “there’s a hot dinner waiting for us inside. And two boys who will be put out if we disappear for hours at a time. So maybe later?”

Despite her postponement, Rumple looked at Belle with awe. He kissed her, gentle and lingering, and offered her his arm.

“I love you too,” he said.

And they went back to their home, together.

****

The longer nights meant that Baelfire spent more time in the cottage. At first, he had tried to stay hidden away in his makeshift bedchamber, especially once Belle was well enough to get out of bed. But the isolation must have bored him because he gradually started making excuses to come out.

Gideon was his main focus. He was always ready to feed and change and rock his little brother. The baby was more active now--smiling and laughing, making gurgles and other noises. He could lift his head up and reach for things he wanted. Bae was always reaching back to him. If Bae started a conversation, it was to brag about one of Gideon’s new accomplishments or ask a question about when a baby reached some milestone or another. When would he talk? When would he crawl? Might he be walking by spring?

Rumpelstiltskin answered Bae’s questions, told him stories of what he had been like as a baby. Belle loved to watch them talk. They were so like each other, with shy smiles and warm brown eyes, hands gesturing animatedly. The camaraderie between father and son, the easy sharing of knowledge as an act of love--it was like seeing the whole of their lives together in an instant.

Belle always dreaded the inevitable moment when Baelfire remembered that she was in the room, when all the warmth and openness in his face was snuffed out like a candle flame. It hurt that he hated her specifically, but it also hurt to think that this sweet boy had any hatred in his heart for anyone. He was too young for that, too good. He deserved to live in a house full of love.

Rumple loved her, and Gideon loved her--her son smiled at her and reached for her just as much as he did his father and brother. And they loved Baelfire as well. But it seemed this little family was destined to always be three-against-one. Either Belle stepped back, or Bae withdrew. There was never a single moment when all four of them were united.

It was up to Belle to change that.

****

The hours between the evening meal and sleep were usually devoted to handcrafts. Rumple had his spinning, of course, and Belle was re-learning how to embroider. Sewing had been her least favorite lesson as the daughter of a nobleman, but now it seemed the only practical skill she had.

Baelfire had no set task. He would putter around the cottage seeing what odd or end he could take care of. He would feed Gideon, or card wool for Rumple, or whittle a toy out of a scrap of wood, or sharpen the knives once they had all gone dull from his whittling. Rumple encouraged him to write and draw, but Bae treated those less as chores and more like amusements--something he was only allowed to do after all other work was done.

One night, when there was no other task he could think of, the boy finally allowed himself to indulge in his hobby. He took pieces of thin, white bark and carefully counted out squares of the same size and shape. He made brown ink out of ground oak galls and water, then set to work with a chicken-feather quill. He drew slowly but steadily, putting the scraps of bark off to the side as he finished each one.

From her place next to Rumple on the hearth, Belle could crane her neck and see the completed products. He had done four so far. Each piece of bark had only one image on it--an apple, a ball, a cat, a dog that looked like Baguette.

“Are you making an alphabet book?” Belle was so delighted that she blurted her first thought into the silent cottage. “For Gideon?”

Baelfire’s back straightened, but he didn’t speak.

Rumple looked up from his spinning wheel. “Are you, son?” He stood up and went to Bae. He put his hand on his shoulder and leaned over to look at the drawings. “Oh, and this is an egg, isn’t it? That’s clever.”

The boy shied away from the praise and the attention. “It’s nothing,” he muttered.

“Nonsense,” Belle stood to join them. “This is marvelous! I had a book just like this when I was a child--of course mine was made of vellum and illuminated by scribes, but--”

“Enough!” Bae shouted as he pushed himself away from the table. He rounded on Belle. “Enough about you, you…”

He trailed off, as he looked at her.

Belle stood perfectly still, as if she had been frozen in time. Her face was hot. Her eyes stung. It took her a moment for her to realize she was on the verge of tears.

Baelfire looked as shocked and as ashamed as he would have if he had struck a woman, not just snapped at the Dark One.

“Bae,” Rumpelstiltskin admonished.

“I’m sorry!” His voice was small. His brown eyes were wide and wet. “R-really, I am. I’m sorry, Belle. I didn’t mean to shout.”

“It’s alright,” she said automatically. The shock and the hurt of his outburst had faded. Now all Belle wanted was to help him. If only she could reach out and touch him, embrace him to let him know that all was forgiven. But he would never accept that. All she could do was talk. “You did nothing wrong.”

There was a long, tense, terrible moment between the three of them. Baelfire was the first to look away. He ducked his head so his long hair covered his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. Then, silently, he gathered his pages together and went to his bed. He closed the curtain on the outside world.

Rumple set a comforting hand on her arm. “He didn’t mean to--”

“I know,” Belle said softly. She breathed, deeply and slowly. “Gods know I can’t talk to anybody about outbursts.” She put her hand on his. “But he truly did no harm.”

They settled back to their work. For a long time, the silence in the cottage was as tense as taut thread. It was only later, when Belle was in bed next to Rumple, that she realized how unexpected it was that Baelfire would apologize for being angry at her.

Maybe she could dare to hope after all.

****

Belle tried to help with the household as much as she could. A hundred years of existence had given her shockingly little expertise in the upkeep of a small farm. But her greatest skill had always been in the learning of new skills, and Rumple was a patient teacher. After her introduction to Dabbey, he had taught her the fine art of sheep milking. There had also been an unfortunate incident where Belle had realized she would also need to learn the fine art of carrying a bucket full of sheep milk without spilling it all over the yard, but that was nothing a tiny bit of magic couldn’t fix.

Now that her powers were back to their full strength, Belle’s greatest struggle was not using them. Magic had been her second nature for so long--it literally made up her being--but it came at a price, and she couldn’t let anything around her pay it. Every time she used magic, she took the consequences on her own body. They were small prices--a headache, her hands shaking, feeling especially tired or ravenous or irritable--but every one served as a reminder that it was easier to go without it.

So she put on her boots every morning and broke the ice in the well to pull up a bucket of water and carry it inside to heat it over the fire so it was warm enough for her family to wash with. She scooped up hay with a pitchfork and grain with a wooden scoop and served it up for the chickens and the sheep. She sat on a stool in a freezing barn and used the Dark One’s claws to squeeze milk from the teats of a very good and very patient but very smelly sheep. She ate meals of mashed vegetables and smoked ham hocks and soup that sometimes needed to be stretched out with water so that there would be enough to feed three adults. She held her baby when he cried all night, walking him back and forth across the length of the cottage as she begged for him to sleep.

All of this she did without magic. She slept and she ate like a human. If she didn’t think of her appearance, she could almost pretend that she wasn’t cursed at all.

Maybe that was enough. Maybe she didn’t need True Love’s Kiss. She was strong enough now to put on an illusion if anyone outside the family came to the farm. That was all the magic she needed. Just enough to hide her true nature. Just enough to lie. That was alright, wasn’t it?

No. Of course it wasn’t. No matter how much Belle pretended to be human, she knew the truth and always would.

Baelfire knew it too. Maybe that was why he had apologized after shouting at her, because he was afraid of her. After all, if he couldn’t avoid the Dark One, then at least he should keep from becoming her enemy. Was that what he was thinking?

But he never seemed afraid, just angry. Conflicted. Belle kept herself from prying into his mind, but she didn’t need magic to see his distress. There was a war inside him--a war no child should have to fight.

Was there any way that she could help him? Was there any possibility that he would let her?

****

Along with everything else on the farm, Belle tried to help with the family business of spinning. Rumple did his best to teach her his craft but since they only had the one wheel, there weren’t many opportunities for her to practice. When he gave her a drop spindle, that meant they went through prepared wool that much more quickly. So Rumple assigned her Bae’s usual task of carding the wool.

Carding combs were a pair of little wooden paddles with a covering of fine bristles on one side. The idea was to take clumps of fleece--that is, the outside of a sheep once it has been shorn and washed--and brush them back and forth between the combs until they were bits of wool workable enough to spin into yarn.

In concept, it seemed straightforward enough, but the practical application eluded Belle entirely. Rumple assured her that she would get the knack of it, that all she needed was practice. On her first night, Baelfire watched her fumble for half an hour with growing frustration before he came over and snatched the combs from her hands.

“You’re doing it all wrong,” he groused. He crouched in front of where she sat, so they would be at the same level while he demonstrated the correct method. “You can’t let the fibers fold over each other, they all have to face the same way. And it’s more about transferring the wool back and forth from one comb to the other. It’s not like brushing hair.” He shoved the combs back into Belle’s hands. “Try now.”

As best she could, she copied the boy’s technique. “Is that better?”

“Better isn’t the same as right. Let me show you again.”

He sat down next to her on the hearth. Over at his wheel, Rumple’s spinning slowed. Belle met his gaze for just a moment, before turning her attention back to Bae’s lesson.

“And make sure you get the wool at the bottom of the comb. Don’t just go over the top layer over and over.” He handed her the combs again.

The next time he needed to correct Belle’s form, he put his hands over hers. It was the first time Rumple’s son had ever touched her.

She didn’t react. If Bae noticed what he was doing, he would surely stop. He would storm off in a huff and the closeness of this moment might be gone forever. Their hands moved together, until Bae was satisfied that she knew what she was doing. Then he got up and went back to Gideon.

“By the way,” Belle said. “Thank you. For teaching me.”

Baelfire looked up. He stared at her, unsure of how to respond. He looked down at his hands, and then back at her. His face was grim, but all he said was, “You’re welcome.”

****

After that, it was easier to be around Bae, and he seemed to find it easier to be around her. He put Belle in mind of the creek that ran through the farm: Ice covered the surface, but water moved freely underneath. As the days began to grow longer and warmer, that ice became thin and ready to crack.

Once he had finished the alphabet book, Bae kept up the habit of drawing. He made sketches on birch bark using a nub of charcoal from the fire. Sometimes he would stare off into nothing as he drew, sometimes he would sneak furtive glances at Rumpelstiltskin, but most often, he would set Gideon up on the table to be his model. When the baby was awake, Bae would make faces at him, to get him to smile. His hands moved fast as he tried to capture those moments. He almost didn’t look at the sketch itself, just trusted that his hands could create what his eyes were seeing. He failed often, tossing the scraps of bark into the fire. But he kept trying, night after night, until he finally seemed satisfied in his own abilities.

It was a momentous night, when Baelfire pulled two thin squares of wood out from under his bed. He took off one square to reveal three sheets of something flat and white.

“Is that paper?” Belle asked. Only in Agrabah did they have the skill to refine crushed wood pulp into a substance smooth enough to write on. Even there it was a precious commodity. How had Bae gotten ahold of some?

What surprised Belle even more was that Bae grinned at her when she asked about it.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “I’ve been saving these for a year.”

“Saving them for what?”

He shrugged, and set one piece of paper on the table. “For me to be good enough, I guess.” He put the remaining two sheets away again. Then he went over to the basket where Gideon was sleeping. “And for something important enough to draw.”

Careful not to wake him, Bae laid his brother down on the table. Then he took a breath, and picked up a charcoal crayon.

Belle tried not to stare at the boy, or at the drawing as it progressed. She did watch Gideon, silently willing him to stay asleep until Bae was done. Sometimes she would share a wordless look with Rumple, who would shrug and go back to his spinning. She was carding again that night. After Bae’s lesson, the task only vexed her sometimes. She reminded herself that the only remedy was practice.

Bae kept drawing, long into the night. Belle kept the fire burning with the thin, dry branches that produced the brightest light. At some point, Rumpelstiltskin went to bed. Bae accepted his goodnight kiss with barely a word, he was so focused on his task.

Belle stayed focused on Bae, not even pretending to card anymore. Passion radiated from him like heat. Without trying, she felt Bae’s love for his brother, his dedication to his art, his determination to get this right, to create something that only he could make.

There was a deeper element in Bae’s furor as well. It almost felt like a spell, something he was doing to himself, for himself. Belle tried to interpret what she sensed without creeping into the boy’s mind.

He wanted something, something more than just to replicate the image of a sleeping baby. He wanted to discover something while he was drawing, something about himself. He’d said that he’d been waiting for the right thing to draw. So Gideon was a part of this discovery. Bae wanted to discover how he felt about Gideon? But that was no mystery! Anyone could see that he loved him without limits.

Or maybe that was it? Maybe Baelfire needed to know the limits of his love for his brother. Maybe he thought something was going to test him, test their bond.

Maybe something already had.

Belle quieted herself even further. She attuned her mind to the emotions of Rumpelstiltskin’s son. She did not take information from his heart, but she allowed herself to receive what he was giving out. She waited. Then she found it.

Fear.

Deep in his heart, Baelfire was afraid. Afraid of what, Belle would not pry to find out. Something about Gideon. Doubtless something about her as well.

Something about the dagger!

Belle opened her eyes. The unbidden revelation scorched across her mind like a meteor and crashed down with an explosion. She stood up so quickly that Bae snapped out of his trance to look at her.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Stumbling, staggering, Belle made her way from the hearth to the table. She collapsed to sit on the bench opposite him, bracing her hands against the surface to steady herself. On the table between them, Gideon began to fuss out of his slumber.

“He’ll want food.” Bae stood up and cleared his drawing off the table. Belle caught a glance of it. She saw the black lines of her baby sleeping peacefully on a blanket of white.

“That’s perfect,” she whispered. There was a disconnection between her mind and her self, like she was experiencing her own actions and words through a great distance. “A perfect likeness.”

By the fire, Bae poured some sheep milk into a pot. He blushed at her compliment. “It’s not done yet.”

“You mean you haven’t decided yet?”

He caught himself just in time to keep the pot of milk from spilling into the fire. “W-what do you mean?”

She looked into his eyes. On his face she saw everything. All the fear, the indecision, the desperate love and helpless ignorance. She saw his determination to do the right thing, without having any idea what action was truly right.

“Baelfire, what are you going to do to me? To Gideon?”

“N-nothing.” He looked away, busied himself with fetching the bowl and the rag.

Belle didn’t give up. “Is there something you want to do to us?” she asked him. “Something you’re supposed to do to us?”

His back stiffened. When he spoke, his voice was thin. “How did you know? Did you use magic to read my mind?”

“I didn’t need to.” Belle stood up but didn’t move any closer to him. Less than two paces separated them, but it seemed an insurmountable gulf.

“I haven’t done it yet,” he said. “I could have--I should have. For as long as you’ve been here, I should have. But I didn’t.” Slowly, he turned to look at her. His face was wretched. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“It does.” She crossed the distance between them. To her surprise, he didn’t shy away. Belle reached up to hold his face. She looked at him. This beautiful boy. This deadly child. “Whatever you think you have to do, I’m telling you, you don’t. Not to Gideon, at least. Please.”

The shake of his head was so small she wouldn’t have known it if she wasn’t so close. “No,” he agreed. “But you.” He pulled away. “You’re the Dark One! I know you’re trying not to be, but…”

Belle let her hands fall to her sides. She pressed her lips together and spoke softly. “I know.”

On the hearth, Dabbey’s milk was beginning to steam. Baelfire tested a drop against the inside of his wrist, then poured it out into the bowl. Gideon was more awake now, and Bae was ready to scoop him into his arms for a feeding.

Belle sat down again. She watched the two brothers. The whole of her being felt like it had become stone.

“Who told you to do it?” she asked dully. “Who burdened you with this quest? Who knew how it might be done?”

He looked at her, equally filled with suspicion and guilt. “The Blue Star,” he said at last.

The Blue Fairy. Of course. Of course the most powerful source of light magic would seek to destroy the Dark One. Of course the guardian of children would use a child as her soldier. Of course she would see the risk as justified for the greater good it might accomplish.

“What did she tell you about my dagger?”

Bae shifted uncomfortably as he placed the milk-sodden rag in Gideon’s open mouth. “She said it’s the only weapon that can harm you. I saw proof of that the night Gid was born.”

“Did she tell you what would happen if you stabbed me through the heart?”

He set the rag down in the bowl. “Papa did,” he said. “He said that’s how you became the Dark One, by killing the old one.”

“Yes,” Belle said. “Funny your Blue Star didn’t mention that detail.”

“She trusts me,” Bae snapped. “She needs me to save the world from darkness.”

“Darkness can’t die!” Belle’s voice rose as she spoke. “I’ve been here with you for months, Bae. Do you think evil stopped everywhere else in the world? Do you think I’m responsible for every sin that people do? Do you think the darkness cares what body it inhabits?”

He glared at her. “I’m not listening to you. You’ll say anything to keep yourself alive.”

“Does she want you to kill Gideon too?”

Baelfire deflated. He looked down at his brother in his arms. Gideon had reached the stage of a feeding where he wasn’t particularly hungry anymore. His blue eyes looked around the cottage. When he saw Bae’s face, he smiled.

“She thought he would be evil,” he said. He looked at Belle. “She didn’t know. People are allowed to be wrong about things.”

“Not when they tell you to murder children.”

His jaw clenched. “You’re wrong.”

“Is that allowed for her but not for me?”

Abruptly, he stood up, Gideon in his arms. Without taking his eyes off Belle, Bae went to the pegs by the door where they kept their cloaks. He picked up the collection of cords and straps they all used to tie Gideon to their bodies. Belle stayed where she was through all of it.

Once the baby was secure against his shirt, Bae put on his cloak. Still looking at Belle, he took out the strong box from its place underneath the bed where Rumpelstiltskin was sleeping heavily.

He looked down inside the strong box for a long moment, his breath shaking. Then he lifted his head to look at Belle.

“I’ve always known what I was supposed to do,” he said. “But I haven’t been brave enough to do it until now. I guess I thought there wouldn’t be any danger, as long as you didn’t know. Now that you do, I don’t have any more excuses.”

“Bae, you don’t have to trust me, but please don’t play around with--”

“Quiet.” He pulled the dagger out of the box and pointed it at her.

Instantly, Belle fell silent. There was nothing else she could do.

Swallowing, Bae looked down at the magic he had just wielded. When he looked up at her, his eyes were dark and cold.

“I won’t do it here,” he said. “I have to talk to the Blue Star first.” He pointed the dagger at her again, but his voice broke as he ordered, “Don’t try to stop me!”

Belle’s heart thudded in her chest. “I won’t try,” she said, very quietly. “Please put that thing away while you’re walking with your brother.”

Frowning, Baelfire slid the dagger into his belt. He looked at her, his face brimming with agony. Belle’s heart ached for her child. But she couldn’t try to stop him.

He threw the door open and disappeared into the night.

Belle stayed where she was at the table. Very slowly, she counted to one hundred. When she was done, she stood up and went to the bed.

“Rumple.” She shook her lover by the shoulder. “Rumple, wake up. Bae’s gone off to kill me.”

#dark mistress #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle fanfic

7 notes · View notes

dreamin-vegan · 1 year

Text

Lets talk crop deaths, vegans, and meat eaters

So theres a whole lot to unpack here, so make sure you’ve got your water and some sort of vegan snack. Okay lets dive in! Live stock as they’re so called, eat plants, cows, pigs, chicken, sheep & lambs, goats, etc ALL eat plants, so that is where these lovely creatures get their protein from, and they also get b12 suppliments, which is what vegans take or we use nutrional yeast which has b12 in it, and protein as well, so in the growing of these crops to feed (at minimum) 72 billion, yes billion with a B, animals per year (which is the exact number of animals slaughtered every year for people to consume their bodies, bodily fluids, and use their skin as fashion) which when you think about it is wild because there are 8 billion humans on earth and we slaughter 72 billion animals a year... think about it for a minuet, that is 5 billion animals a year, PER PERSON!! So, that doesn’t factor in the amount of land destroyed yearly to support animal agriculture, which that number is 13 billion hectares of land per year are destroyed to support the mass agriculture and factory farming industry, so people can eat meat, dairy, and eggs, and wear leather and uggs....so yes while crop deaths happen its a much smaller number than the deaths that happen in just supporting a meat based lifestyle. Now I understand that may be a lot to process, but yes vegans do eat plants instead, and no we’re not perfect by any means, the definition of veganism is “ the practice of eating only food not derived from animals and typically of avoiding the use of other animal products."he believes the rise of veganism is raising awareness about animal cruelty"Origin1940s: from vegan + -ism.“ and being vegan in addition to the literal definition is “as far as is practicle and practiceable” meaning there will always be things, such as medications, or transportation, or even having a laptop or cell phone, that will be unavoidable, being vegan is far more important to the environment, and your health, we as vegans don’t want to “force our lifestyle down your throat” we’re here to educate, to help you to go vegan, and mostly be a voice for the voiceless which is why we’re so passionate about this when we’re loud and talking a lot, it’s because we care.

#vegan #veganism #VEGAN BLOGGER #vegan blog #active blog #vegan activism #go vegan #go vegan today #vegan for the animals

5 notes · View notes

a-krogan-skald-and-bearsark · 2 years

Text

People you want to know more about

So I was tagged in this AGES back by @temerairemybeloved, but it is a thing known that I am shit at remembering to do these things, and also I have been much boat of late.

I'm tagging @sweetroll-stolen, @the-odd-aardvadillo, @eiriee and @gumshoesniper

no worries if you never get around it. Took me long enough.

favourite colour: Green. really bright deep green. The shade of green the Scottish Baronial Guard of Historia Normannis used to use, back in the days I was one of them (They might still use it, but they’ve changed the heraldry at least once since then)

favourite food: I really like these sort of square flatbread pizzas I get at my local grocery store. Either the barbecue chicken and caramelized onion on or the cherry tomato and arugula one.

song stuck in your head: The most recent one was “The Old Black Rum” by Great Big Sea. Has a hold on me, like a dog wrapped round my leg. They was playing it in the restuarant I went to for supper last night.

last thing you googled: Sarna. I was trying to get to the battletech wiki but hit enter before I’d typed in the dot com so it googled the damn thing.

time: I’m partial to dusk. And also the 9th to 12th centuries.

dream trip: I would start in Nuuk, Greenland. From there I would travel, ideally by boat, to Reykjavik, Iceland, then Orkney by way of the Faroes and Shetland. A walking tour down the west coast of Scotland and into Wales, with a visit to Inis Mona, Anglesey if you’re wanting to use the English word for it. From there, to Norway, Birka in Finland, and thence to Estonia where it’s a river cruise down the Dneipr and Volga rivers until we reach Constantinopolis. Istanbul if you’re willing to admit the last 600 years have happened. I blame the White Crow of Hungary.

last book you read: There was a novella in the latest episode of Shrapnel, the battletech fic magazine. If we’re not counting that or fanfic, Trollslayer by William King

last book you enjoyed reading: Trollslayer by William King. It’s definitely pulp, but pulp has it’s place.

last book you hated reading: If I don’t like a book, I don’t finish it. This has been my policy since I finished education and people could not make me read books any more. So, it was probably Orwell. Either Animal Farm or 1984. If I want to be depressed I’ll go read the news. Reading fiction I do for fun.

favourite thing to cook/bake: I don’t do much baking these days. I like cooking seafood. I work on fishing boats, so folks are always giving me recipes.

favourite craft to do in your spare time: I'm more a “I do the craft for the end result” type guy. I paint tabletop wargaming figures. I do a bit of leatherwork and am trying to teach myself tanning.

most niche dislike: IT WOULDN’T BE FUCKING ISTANBUL IF THE DAMNED WHITE CROW HAD BACKED VLAD TEPES LIKE HE PROMISED INSTEAD OF BUYING HIS FUCKING CROWN BACK OUT OF HOCK.

opinion on circuses now and in history: They used to be exploitative and inhumane. It’s my understanding not much has changed.

do you have a sense of direction and if not what's the worst way you got lost: debatable. I will tell people I have a great sense of direction. I define this as always knowing where I am in relation to where I want to be. Whether or not I know the way to get there is a whole other thing. This is how what should have been a thirty minute hike along the trail turned into two hours of trekking across the moors once. Because I’d decided to go off-trail and run along a ridgeline for a few hundred yards, and EVERYBODY FOLLOWED ME.

And I was the only one physically fit enough to get down without turning back. Well. @eiriee and Tom might have managed it. But everyone else would have fallen to their doom, or at least minor injury. So I figured we’d just go round rather than going back. Woops.

4 notes · View notes

thepropertylovers · 2 years

Text

The Creek at Getaway House

We’re making more and more progress at Getaway House!

While the inside is thisclose to being finished (maybe just a few more weeks, can’t wait to show you), we’ve also turned our attention to the outside, specifically the creek at the bottom of the property. PJ cleared a bunch of trees the last few weeks to give us a better view of the water, which is more so for safety purposes than necessarily aesthetics.

We’ve started a few burn piles to get rid of all the trees and branches. This place will be cleaned up before you know it and will look better than ever.

This is what it looked like last week after PJ cleared everything out. Even though it doesn’t look like it in photos, there’s already been major progress since then just by dragging the cut down branches from the creek to the burn piles.

Sure, it does look a lot better with less overgrown brush, and everything looks a little more like someone lives there as opposed to what it’s looked like for the last few years: scary and abandon, but the biggest reason for the clearing of trees and shrubs is to allow us to see the creek in its entirety. This way, we can see when the kids are playing and know that everyone is okay (not that we will ever let them play in the creek by themselves alone without us being there, but it still allows for a clearer view).

And speaking of the kids playing, yesterday we all rode out there to check on the house and see the progress of the inside. While we were there, the kids swam and played in the creek, splashing and laughing and falling all over the place. I love that we finally have a property with water to cool off in the unbearable summer heat.

Though we do have our river land that we’ve had going on five years now, the water is too tall and the current is too strong for the kids to enjoy right now. The creek is a much safer option for them. We also have the pond on our farm that we had built over the last year, but it’s not holding water right now. Will it ever? We’re waiting to find out.

After a rather stressful night back at home once we got finished playing in the creek (involving two of our kids and their slightly rough play with one of our chickens- they’re still learning what is okay animal behavior and what’s not), I am choosing to focus on the good times spent at Getaway House. It was a beautiful afternoon, and I could listen to our kids laughing forever. They had so much fun.

And we did, too.

2 notes · View notes

bike42 · 8 months

Text

Wednesday September 6, 2023

We dodged it for 44 months, but COVID caught us at an inopportune time - on a tour in Ireland. Jeff started having a sinus headache last Saturday and by Monday he was pretty miserable (we chocked it up to the hot bus ride). He had a long nap when we arrived at the B&B, but rallied for a walk to the castle and the group dinner. The next day we were on the bus all day with our M&M tour. We popped into a pharmacy at lunch that day to buy Sudafed and COVID test kits. The Sudafed gave him immediate relief and he functioned well the rest of Tuesday.

Wednesday morning we got up, felt ok but each did a COVID test. His was immediately positive - similar to when Lori was teaching Ryan and I how to test and he went positive just before Christmas 2020. My test was negative and I felt fine. I went down to breakfast to find our tour leader, Peter, and grab a tray for the now quarantining JT. Since he’s had symptoms for over three days now, we we’re hopeful he’d be able to travel with the group on Friday when we head south to the next hotel.

He insisted I go out for today’s tour, so I did. The tour was several spots around Sligo. We started at Carrowmore Megalithic Cemetery. It took me awhile to figure out where we were and what we were seeing, but we had a fantastic guide that led us to different Stone Age tombs built by Neolithic farmers. She was a great combination of historian and archaeologist! A similar story to other places in the world where the farmers came and pushed indigenous people inland.They grew cereal crops and domestic farm animals (cows, sheep and chickens).

They estimate probably 50-55 monuments were originally here, some were likely dismantled over the years. Inside the tombs they found grave artifacts: remains (primarily cremated), quartz crystal, tools and pieces of pottery, jewelry from sea shells, pins made from deer antlers.

The tombs were desecrated in the 1800’s, later part of the 1900’s archeologists came and discovered that these were actually Stone Age monuments. There are 250 tomb monuments in Ireland - 100 in Sligo area

Our guide talked about the surrounding area, and pointed out Benbulben, a flat top mountain across the valley - she said no monuments there as the sun and moon don’t intersect. She also pointed out Knocknarea, the mountain with a very large carin monument on top, which led to her story about Queen Maeve. Legend says she’s buried in the monument standing up. Probably largest passage tomb that’s been left undisturbed.

The coolest passage tomb was the Listoghil chamber. Twice a year, the sun illuminates the perfectly aligned stones - Oct 31st and April 30th. The guide shared a photo from several years ago (see photo). They don’t see it every year because normally, Ireland can go many days without seeing the sun!

Our next stop was the Strandhill Peninsula for a stop at the Atlantic Ocean. We had two hours to walk the beach and have lunch on our own. Supposedly, this is the best place to surf in Ireland, and there were surfers out there but the waves weren’t that great. I walked the beach and dunes for a bit, overlooking a little RV park with Knocknarea in the background. I joined a few others in our group for a panini and a pint and enjoyed the outdoor patio on the beach.

After lunch we drive to another tomb monument - this one with more extensive stonework. It occurred to me that all of these would be more spectacular to be viewed from above! James brought his guitar along and sang two songs for us there … one called “Buried in Stone,” which he wrote after his brother disappeared in Montana.

Our last stop of the day was “Atlantic Sheepdogs,” for a spectacular talk by Martin and a performance of herding by his amazing 4-year old Border Collie, Moe. She was wicked smart and clearly takes her job seriously! The farm has also dedicated itself to conservation of some ancient breeds of sheep that were on the verge of extinction. I was surprised to learn that the value of wool is practically nothing! These sheep are bred primarily for meat these days.

We drove through Sligo and the bus stopped to let people off if they wanted to stay in town. I rode back to the hotel and Jeff was feeling pretty good and ready to get out and get some air. It was just over a mile walk back down to town, a nice walk. We strolled along the river and found a spot we could sit outside and have a burger. We passed on the milk shake, but our waiter convinced us to try the sundae with hot caramel and crumbled biscotti cookies. Yum yum.

We walked back to the hotel and Jeff went back to quarantine in the room and I joined most of the group for a 90 minute M&M show. It was so cool to be sitting right in the front and watch their fingers fly over the guitar strings. Peter joined them for a few tunes with percussion, and even sang an Irish tune for us.

Lots of talent in the room. Several people were headed out to the pubs to find more music, but I was starting scratchy throat and headache so I headed back to the room to try to sleep.

0 notes

petrikaira · 1 year

Text

The Maid

Chapter 3, The Interview, Final Page (Previous)

Rating: G for General Audiences

The prince’s eyes turned bright red. They were luminescent against the green, redder than blood, as red as poppies. Nothing else had changed. The same pale skin, the same dark hair, the same pointed teeth. Even the same feathered hat and clothes combo. Retha felt the worry in her heart turn right to disappointment. Hot coals to ash.

Meanwhile the excitement on his face poured from his wide smile to his bright red eyes. “Here it is!”

“That’s just your eyes,” Retha said bluntly.

The prince crossed his arms over his chest, the lace of his sleeve endings dragging. “You said normal form, not demon form-”

She stared for a moment longer. Her mind whirled. He was still clearly human, and she had no reason to disbelieve him. The red eyes did fit with the eyes of a hellhound.

“Why would a demon come to the human world for a maid?” She said, “Are you here for my soul?”

“Well, see, I’m not authorized to do that anyways, but no?” the Prince said. He shifted. His chair creaked, and the sound carried in the quiet of the forest.

“Then why-”

“I wanted to do a good job for my wife! This was the first job she ever gave me,” Prince Yuki said. “And humans raised me, so I think they do a really good job, and unlike demons, a good human won’t be afraid to tell us if we’re messing up.”

A million thoughts ran through her mind, sifting like the smell of flowers on the wind. Some she could almost grasp at, like the fact that he had told her he wanted to do a good job for his wife when she had first met him as well. Others were much hazier.

“Humans raised you?” She blurted, her mind settling on one like her nose settled on the pine in the breeze.

“When I was small,” the prince said. “Some things happened, and eventually my parents died when I was only four or so- and human farmers took me in.”

Retha scoffed. A hellhound doing chores! Not killing the humans it came across? But then, the little excited voice in her head piped up- he hadn’t killed her. Not yet.

“Well, then what was your chore?”

“They started pouring the milk from the bucket into our milk bottles,” the prince said. “But, eventually I got to help milk the cow. Her name was Bellona, she was all speckled.”

He had a soft look on his face as he talked about the cow. She thought it was a strange name, but the little smile on her face was maybe what she would be like in a few years when she talked about Henny or Orsey. A smile that loved the animals it grew up with.

“Do you think you still could? Milk a cow, I mean?” Retha asked.

“Yes! But I can’t, now-”

She wrinkled her nose. That didn’t sit right with her. Even a prince should want to do hard work, instead of just relying on his position in the world. “Because you’re a prince?”

“No,” Prince Yuki said. “Not because of that.”

“Why then?” Retha demanded. She wouldn’t take some slimy answer.

“Don’t have cows in the demon city.” It was Zillah this time, looking up from her finished tart. “We got chickens, but just barely. Not enough light down there to grow grass to keep a cow fed.”

Retha scoffed. “If you don’t have light to grow grass, where are you getting your chicken feed?” She demanded.

“Trading for it with other places that get more light,” Zillah replied. “But we don’t got a lot of chickens down there, either, pretty rare.”

Retha blinked. A place, without chickens- and by the sounds of it, no light. No farming. It was an exciting prospect. Her maid job would just be cleaning.

“Oh! While we are talking about home-” The prince said. “Are you still considering coming to be a maid?”

“Yes,” Retha said. “Except, I want a drawn up contract about my benefits to read over.”

A sly, curved smile cleared across the Prince’s face. “Alright. But, there is a catch. I am a demon, as I’ve said.”

Was it a betrayal of herself that the first thing she felt about that was a rush of the excitement already swirling, and none of the worry that should settle in her chest?

“What is it?”

“You have to give up your name. A name, to form the contract, to keep you safe, and tie you to our castle and protect you from other demons,” The prince said.

“My name,” Retha said. She pushed down the excitement. A name was something big. It was part of who she was.

And yet.

She had never really been attached to hers. She was Retha, but- it was just a name. She was more than it.

“Of course I’d give you a name in return,” The prince replied.

A name, to take a job. Retha’s mind whirled. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” The Prince said.

“Can I have a copy of the contract to read it over, while I think about it?” Retha pressed. She didn’t want to give up the opportunity without having her father read over the contract.

A smile. Now, the prince looked much older. There was something in his eyes that reminded her of the old sailors who were too old for fishing, who sat down by the docks and watched the waves roll by, feeding the ducks. Something tired, something sad.

“Of course.”

A wave of the prince’s hand, and there was a roll of parchment on the table beside her.

Her fingers curled around it. There was a red wax seal, right on the side, still warm like he had just pressed his seal into it instead of summoning it from thin air. She was surprised how unsurprised she was by this.

“I’m going to take this with me,” she said firmly.

The air wavered, and her feet thumped back hard on the wooden floor of the Barman’s Keep. There was a pause in the air, the sound of the lute strings being plucked and tuned.

“Do you want your tart?” Zillah asked, leaning forward.

Retha figured that if there wasn’t enough light for grass, there probably wasn’t enough light for fruit. She stood. “Go ahead, I need to think.”

She didn’t really have an appetite for it, anyways.

“If you decide before you come to see us again, just sign it. We’ll know,” The prince said.

Retha turned to head out the door. She clutched her roll of parchment type. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll be in touch, one way or another.”

“I know you will.”

She focused on the shiver down her spine. His voice was grave. He did know. It was like he could see the excitement running through her. She knew that she should be shocked at the prospect of giving up her name, at working with demons, and yet, somehow, the excitement was still buzzing in her ears. She needed to make sure that was how she would feel once the shock of learning magic existed had died down.

“I need to think.”

With that, she left the Barman’s Keep once more.

#fantasy #the maid #ch 3 pg 3 #writeblr #writing

0 notes