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50calmadeuce · 4 months

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Ch. 5: Checking Fence

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

With the two of you mounted on your horses, you set off down a dirt road towards the north field.

"I'm surprised no one has snatched you up yet," Jake commented out of the blue.

'If you only knew,' you thought to yourself. "Nah. I love my job too much," you replied, gazing ahead before turning to look at him. "What about you?"

Jake looked ahead, his expression thoughtful. "I've thought about it, but my job keeps me busy. Maybe one day." He glanced at you with a small smile. "Who knows, right?"

You nodded in agreement, appreciating the simplicity of the moment. The rhythmic sound of the horses' hooves against the dirt road, the warm sun overhead, and the gentle breeze all contributed to the serenity of the day. It was moments like these that made you appreciate the beauty of life.

As you approached the gate leading to the north field, Jake spoke up, "I'll get the gate if you grab my horse and walk her in."

"Sure," you reply, taking the reins from Jake as he dismounts to open the gate. After he swings it open, you lead both horses inside. Jake follows and then secures the gate behind you.

He mounts back onto his horse, and you pass him the reins. As your hands briefly touch, there's a warm connection that you can't help but notice, but you ignore it and turn to look at the fence.

"Well, let's get this started," you declare, turning your horse and beginning to ride alongside the fence.

Jake sighs, slightly frustrated, and falls into line behind you.

The north field held a special place in your heart, mainly because of the small creek that meandered through it. When you were younger, it served as your sanctuary when you needed a break from everything. It was also the very spot where you shared your first kiss and lost your virginity to Jake. It suddenly struck you that this was likely why James had asked you to check the fence, and you quietly shook your head with a sigh.

You looked at your watch and then at Jake. "You hungry? We can eat here?"

Jake looked around. "Yeah. It's been awhile since I've been here."

"Let's head over by the tree," you suggested, steering your horse in that direction, with Jake following suit. When you reached the tree, you dismounted your horse and grabbed the blanket from the back of the saddle.

"I'll get things set up," Jake announced mysteriously from behind you. As he reached up, you caught a new scent, one you didn't recognize from years ago. Back in high school, he used to smell like Drakkar Noir. Now, there was a distinct manly aroma of bourbon and leather, with a subtle undertone of fresh hay.

He had already secured his horse to the tree, so you did the same. Meanwhile, he spread out a blanket beside the creek and fetched the basket from behind his saddle, placing it on the blanket.

After securing your horse, you made your way over to the blanket. Jake extended his hand towards you, and you looked at it, then at him.

"Let me help you," he said with a charming grin.

You returned the smile, placed your hand in his, and settled down onto the blanket. Jake followed suit, sitting beside you.

The serene babble of the creek and the distant rustle of leaves created a soothing backdrop to your picnic. Griff had packed an assortment of sandwiches, fruit, and some homemade lemonade. The simple spread seemed to suit the day perfectly.

As you both sat there, enjoying the food and the natural surroundings, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment.

"Thanks for helping me today, Jake," you said, taking a sip of lemonade.

He smiled warmly, his eyes reflecting the same sentiment. "You're welcome. Sometimes, it's good to slow down a bit, you know?"

You shrug. "Life is much simpler and slower in Alaska. I love it."

"It sounds like it. Coronado is always bustling. Hell, Top Gun school keeps you on your toes."

"And you enjoy it?"

He grinned widely. "I love it! I just wish..." His voice trailed off.

You locked eyes with him. "You wish what?"

He held your gaze. "I wish you were there to share it all with me."

His words hung in the air, carrying a mix of longing and vulnerability. The sincerity in his gaze caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were lost in his green eyes. But then you looked away, the memory of that day rushing back:

"Marry me, Y/N," Jake had said, dropping down on one knee at the edge of the creek. "I want you with me for the rest of my life."

You beamed. "Yes!" you exclaimed excitedly. He stood and slipped the ring onto your finger, then cradled your face, drawing you in for a kiss. It was tender, passionate, and full of love.

When you returned to the house and showed your mom, your dad stormed into the room, furious:

"You will not marry him, young lady!" he bellowed.

"Daddy! It's Jake! You've known him all of his life!"

"I don't care! You're not eighteen."

"But I will be in two months!"

"Well, until that time, you live in my house under my roof, and I'm responsible for you."

"What did Jake ever do to you?" He's always helped when we needed it. Even when we didn't!"

"He's cocky and full of himself. He needs to learn that not everything is going to go his way."

Tension hung in the air as your father's stern words echoed through the room. You couldn't believe the intensity of his reaction. It felt like a cruel twist of fate that just as things seemed to be falling into place, this sudden obstacle appeared.

"But Dad, we love each other," you pleaded, desperation creeping into your voice.

Your mother, who had been observing the exchange, stepped forward, trying to mediate. "Honey, maybe we should talk about this calmly. Jake is a good boy, and we've known him for years."

But your father's stance remained firm. "No. She's my daughter, and I know what's best for her. She will not marry him."

You ran up to your bedroom, tears streaming down your face.

"I came asking for you that night," Jake said, breaking your train of thought.

You looked at him, puzzled. "What?" you said, feeling a rush of confusion. "I was in my room. I'd put my headphones on because my parents were arguing about us. I cried myself to sleep. Nothing was ever mentioned that you had stopped by."

Jake's eyes widened in surprise and realization. "Y/N, I had no idea. I thought you didn't want to see me. At least, that's what your dad told me."

You shook your head, a mixture of emotions washing over you. "I had no idea you came. I thought you'd given up on us too."

"Your father said I wasn't good enough for you. I needed to learn a lesson."

"I thought you just left."

He gazed at you. "God no. But he was right. I needed to learn. I was too cocky. I was sent to Top Gun to train for a mission. I didn't get it because I said and did some things that, now looking back on it, I should've listened to my instructor. I've learned." He reached out and touched the side of your face. "I've had so many girls throw themselves at me, but no one could compare to you. Even after all this time." He slowly pulled your face towards him and the next thing you knew, his lips were on yours.

You closed your eyes, tasting his mouth. He tasted of bourbon and brown sugar. A nice combination.

The kiss was a rush of emotions, a culmination of years of longing and missed opportunities. It was tender yet passionate, a promise of what could have been and what still might be. As you held each other, it felt like a second chance, a shot at rewriting the past.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads touched, breathless and hearts pounding. The weight of the years seemed to lift, leaving behind a renewed hope and a sense of closure.

"Jake," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

His gaze locked onto yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and determination. "Y/N, I promise you, I've changed. I want to make things right, if you'll give me the chance."

You smiled, a tear rolling down your cheek. "I'd like that, Jake. I really would, but..." You wiped the tears off of your face and quickly stood up. "We need to finish checking the fence."

"Y/N."

You started to place things into the basket and Jake gently grabbed your hand, stopping you. "Would you talk to me?"

You looked at him, your eyes full of sorrow. "You don't want me, Jake. It's too late for us. Too much has changed."

"Y/N, I get that, but can we..."

"No." You cut him off. "Let's just get this done," you said as you filled the basket and then placed it on the back of Jake's horse. You then went over to your horse and acted like you were checking your horses saddle straps as Jake rolled up the blanket and then placed it behind the saddle on your horse. You refused to look at him.

"Let's get going then, shall we?" He mounted his horse and you did the same.

The sun was starting to set as the two of you rode upon the ranch. After the kiss at lunch, the two of you rode in silence, only talking when a part of the fence needed to be fixed.

As you came upon the barn, you noticed another vehicle parked in the driveway and wondered who it was. One of the new farmhands took your horse after you dismounted and Jake continued to ride his until you were at the steps of the back porch.

"There she is!" a male voice rang out as the backdoor opened.

You looked up and saw a blond guy in blue jeans and a blue t-shirt come running down the stairs, and he wrapped his arms around you. You were momentarily surprised before realizing who it was. You also noticed James outside now leaning against the porch rail.

The blond released you and stepped back, grinning. "Your brother said you were out checking a fence."

"I was," you responded.

The blond then noticed Jake, who was still sitting on his horse. "Who is this guy? Another cowboy on the ranch?"

You made the introductions, saying, "Sean, meet Jake. Jake, this is Sean, my fiance."

Sean extended his hand towards Jake. "Pleasure to meet you."

Jake hesitated, glancing at his muddy hands. "I hope you don't mind, they're a bit dirty right now. I'd hate to make a mess of things."

Sean withdrew his hand with a nod. "Of course, I understand."

Your gaze shifted to Jake, who gave you a reassuring nod. "If there's anything else you need, just give me a shout." With that, he rode off.

Turning to Sean, you asked, "Sean, what brings you here?"

"You seemed distressed when we spoke the other day, so I arranged for the Coast Guard to handle our stuff. I wanted to be here with you," he explained.

You sighed. "Let's go in the house. I'm starving."

As you ascended the stairs, James observed with a raised eyebrow.

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #glen powell #hangman top gun #top gun maverick hangman #hangman #hangman fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick

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silviascorcella · 5 months

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Caterina Gatta p/e 2020: nell’archivio c’è la fonte della bellezza futura

“Di una cosa ero sicura, non volevo fare la fashion designer”: suona curiosamente paradossale pronunciato da Caterina Gatta, che con la sua moda di giovane e talentuosa stilista, è sempre felicemente riconoscibile perché non è mai stata imitatrice né debitrice di estetiche standardizzate e massificate, vero? Difatti, l’unicità è una dote che accade raramente: ovvero, quando le creazioni sono una combinazione non solo di grande passione e bravura sartoriale, ma anche di una dedizione profonda per la ricerca agganciata ad un senso del tutto personale della bellezza, e di un istinto rispettoso che va oltre il mero fascino dell’estetica, per andare a conquistare e condividere il valore prezioso della cultura che tramite l’estetica si esprime.

Ecco, Caterina Gatta nel mondo del suo brand, che con lei condivide anche il nome e cognome come fosse uno specchio che ne riflette tutto il ventaglio di bellezza, esercita proprio questa combinazione pregiata. L’ha fatto sin dall’inizio del suo percorso di giovane promessa del fashion italiano, e lo riconferma tutt’ora nella collezione s/s 2020, che del suo percorso è anche una rinfrescante sublimazione.

A ben vedere, forse il segreto di Caterina Gatta e della sua moda potrebbe essere raccolto proprio nell’essenza di quell’affermazione: che, badate bene, non ha nulla di perentorio né altezzoso, tutt’altro! Anzi, è per l’appunto l’incipit spontaneo del suo itinerario poliedrico e generosamente curioso nella moda: che al fashion design approda come fosse il contenitore professionale perfetto dove raccogliere e esprimere le illuminazioni scoperte durante il percorso. Che inizia con lo studio in Scienze della moda e del costume, mescolato ad esperienze lavorative assai eterogenee, cioè l’esperienza in un negozio vintage, lo studio dei diamanti presso un azienda import export, lo stage in America come associate new business per un agenzia di PR, l’assistente di una giornalista durante le fashion week di Milano e Parigi. Esperienze diversissime, ma che già custodivano il fil-rouge che da lei, e del suo brand, è tanto amato: l’amore scoccato per i tessuti vintage appartenuti alle grandi griffe che del made in Italy son state pietre miliari per eccellenza di qualità manifatturiera e per meraviglia di creazione estetica.

Una scintilla scoccata con l’incontro casuale di un tessuto vintage firmato Irene Galitzine, da cui Caterina Gatta aveva avviato una collezione personale: oltre un centinaio di stoffe splendide, provenienti principalmente dai favolosi anni Ottanta e Novanta appartenute, tra gli altri, a Gianni Versace, Mila Schön, Valentino, Ungaro, Yves Saint Laurent , Givenchy, Fausto Sarli, Lancetti e molti altri. Una collezione presto divenuta ispirazione per il suo progetto di moda.

È il 2011 quando il progetto di Caterina Gatta riceve la benedizione di Franca Sozzani e Sara Maino per la partecipazione al ‘Vogue Talents corner’: aveva ragione Caterina, a voler creare abiti dall’appeal contemporaneo a partire da quelle stoffe testimoni di una bellezza unica e irripetibile, profondamente italiana e straordinariamente creativa.

Da quel momento il brand è cresciuto e maturato, naturalmente: si è anche ampliato a collezioni dove i tessuti sono ideati e progettati da lei, con un’evoluzione naturale della ricercatezza divertita dei motivi stampati a dar forma a silhouette squisitamente attuali.

Ora, per la p/e 2020, Caterina Gatta torna alle origini con consapevolezza entusiasta: torna al suo archivio prezioso di tessuti vintage, materia prima il cui valore è anche nel gesto, a suo modo ribelle e salvifico, di riportarli nel nostro presente e plasmarli in creazioni sartoriali perfettamente contemporanee, perfettamente coerenti con il gusto di Caterina Gatta, fatto principalmente di appiombi netti e linee asciutte come base solida su cui costruire volant plastici, gonne a corolla che sbocciano con brio pop, tagli fendenti che aprono geometrie affacciate sulla pelle, silhouette anch’esse felicemente caratteristiche del brand come la tuta pantalone con i volant appoggiati sulla vita e gli abiti imbottiti con la tundra di seta e organza tripla, dove per fare un mini abito servono più di dodici metri di seta pura.

Restano intatti i giochi di accostamenti e sovrapposizioni di colori vividi e stampe che sembrano sottratte a opere d’arte: resta intatta la creatività libera, assieme alla passione per l’arte in connubio con la moda.

Forse Caterina Gatta ha ragione: se avesse voluto fare la fashion designer, non avrebbe tracciato un viaggio così personale e intenso!

Silvia Scorcella

{ pubblicato su Webelieveinstyle }

#Caterina Gatta #nuovoartigianato #nuovomadeinitaly #modaindipendente #modasostenibile #sostenibilità #nuovitalenti #fashion writing #webelieveinstyle

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bthump · 2 years

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So I was talking to some guy about berserk and ofc he hit me with the classic « Griffith is actually a monster of arrogance and his need to feel superior to guts was the main factor of their relationship » which obv I disagree with + when I asked him about a scene that could illustrate the arrogance that according to him was the main factor behind Griffith actions he mentioned the scene were Griffith meet « god » during the eclipse and the first thing he ask from him is to have wings (« it was a form of arrogance bc he didn’t talk about the band first after the sacrifice » but it doesn’t really make sense bc 1) it was after Griffith heart was frozen so he was not about to cry for his friends 2) aren’t the wings a reference to the hawk ? Or maybe I am missing something ?) But I was looking for a scene that could illustrate that griff is not actually super arrogant / did not feel the need to be constantly superior to guts and there was plenty of small scenes that could work but I wanted to know if according to you there was one or two in the manga that were particularly clear about that ?

lol yeah that arrogance example really doesn't work, since he had a whole monologue before that chapter about the Hawks being killed and how it's strange that he doesn't feel anything about it etc.

imo the wings are a symbol of, yk, soaring ever higher and his ambition and dream. So sure he's arrogant there, because he's already pretty much mentally Femto. To me that's like taking Femto's "still squirming in your pitiful existence I see?" and using it as proof that Griffith always felt superior to Guts.

ANYWAY examples of Griffith not being super arrogant and not needing to be superior to Guts:

Having sex with Gennon for the money to keep as many Hawks alive as possible; asking Casca if he’s dirty. (ch 17)

Risking his life for Guts (ch 15)

Risking his life for Guts again w/ Zodd, and the "for your sake," conversation. (ch 5-7)

Also the fact that he’s completely chill about being totally defeated by Zodd and doesn’t take it as a blow to his ego (unlike Guts, as we see in chapter 65).

Also this lmao:

*twirling his hair around his finger* Wow Guts you’re so much tougher than me... (ch 6)

Sending a search party after Guts and Casca despite the nobles he needs to suck up to telling him it's a waste of resources. (ch 21)

Asking if Guts thinks he's cruel, ie needing Guts' reassurance. (ch 32)

Telling Guts he only wants the Hawks to see him soaring up, while Guts is “rough enough to share this with to the end.” (chapter 34)

Nearly pulling his own arm out of its socket trying to save Guts when he falls off the giant eclipse hand (ch 76)

"But now as he shines so glaring within me, the junk grows dull." (ch 49)

"You're the only one... who made me forget my dream." (ch 78)

“You made Griffith weak! Griffith’s no good without you!” (ch 45)

“But Griffith always gets impulsive when it comes to you!” (ch 18)

Laughing when Guts wins the water fight by dumping a bucket over his head. (ch 16)

Oh yk also in the Lost Chapter, the way Griffith is more than happy to not have free will and turn control over to God strikes me as the opposite of arrogant. The first thing he says when God is like ‘yo I’ve been in total control of your life since before you were born’ is ‘okay what do you want me to do then?’

The way Griffith asks him to assassinate Julius, rather than ordering him, which is pointed out in the text when Guts mentions it. (ch 10)

Thinking about Guts leaving while fucking Charlotte, crying and tracing scratch-marks after. (ch 38)

Crying and apologizing to all the dead soldiers in his subconscious (ch 77)

Smiling and being relatively chill about the loss of his dream when they drive away from Midland (ch 59) before everything with Wyald goes down.

The way Griffith’s internal monologue during the second duel was matter of fact and demonstrated that Griffith already knew full well that Guts could beat him in a one-on-one duel - therefore that’s not what he’s having an emotional breakdown over. He’s known for a long time that Guts has surpassed him in raw ability with a sword, and he’s factoring that fact into his decision making here:

This monologue boils down to: “Guts is better than me, so I have to use an extremely risky technique and gamble everything on one strike.” He’s not even sure of his success here. “If successful,” he says.

So yk, the point of the duel isn’t to prove he’s superior and he didn’t fall to pieces bc Guts beat him, which is something I see a lot of Berserk fans think, it’s to keep Guts at his side through the only means he can think of, and he fell to pieces because it didn’t work. (ch 36)

Someone who’s convinced Griffith only cares about being superior to Guts could probably argue away a lot of these, but like, this is why you should apply Occam’s Razor to your interpretations of stories sometimes, yk? If there’s a bunch of important moments you need to somehow explain away to justify your take, it’s probably not a very strong interpretation. An interpretation of a story should shed light on it, not make half of it confusing and contradictory.

Like if Griffith’s main trait is arrogance, what does chapter 17 exist to convey? Why are we shown him feeling shame and guilt? Why does he self harm? Why does he risk his life for Guts? Why does he need to be convinced to make the sacrifice? Why does Guts make him forget his dream? If Griffith was devastated because he’s not superior to Guts after all and losing the duel was a blow to his ego, why would Miura choose to convey that through Griffith thinking about him while fucking Charlotte and then curling up and crying about him? Is that tonally consistent?

Like imo the best argument against Griffith needing to feel superior to Guts is the fact that his narrative just straight up isn’t about that, it’s about something else entirely, but that requires like a whole essay of explanation lol.

Hope this helps though!

#thanks for the ask!#a #b #character: griffith #bananaproved #ship: griffguts #scene: second duel #arc: ga #theme: self loathing

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battlestar-royco · 1 year

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Every time I think I'm over the atrocious writing from D&D the last four seasons of GOT I remember how they actually had Rh*gar get a "secret annulment" of his royal consummated marriage which produced two children and then filmed the most disgusting "wedding ceremony" scene between R and L and framed it as this cutesy, romantic moment meanwhile anyone who was a book reader or paying attention knew that man had a wife, toddler, and baby he abandoned at home. And then had the gall to give Jon the actual Aegon/Young Griff's name, parts of his storyline, and identity. Just fucking astounding till this very day. It's almost 2023 and this shit still haunts me lmao. D&D deserve lashings until the end of time for how they treated POC/Dornish characters and their related plotlines. If GRRM (not that he's any better) even tries to pull anywhere near something similar or does a cop out polygamy storyline/marriage so Jon "Gary Stu Extraordinaire" Snow is somehow legitimate, he can also ch*ke.

I became dead inside to the writing of GoT after they added a rape plot to Sansa's storyline in season 5. I accepted that the rest of the show would be heinous and pretty much only held on in the hopes that they'd deliver a reasonable ending for the Stark characters, and I wasn't in the least bit surprised when it ended the way it did. My main solace is that the show is now universally recognized as bad. Unfortunately the fact that HotD is getting universal praise for having literally the exact same issues as the first show, if not much worse in certain ways, gives me hives. It's just more high budget racism, anti-victim/survivor, fake feminism, and imperial glorification covered up by Shakespearean dialogue and acting.

#anti hotd

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ellibean-icecream · 1 year

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Like Tears in the Rain Ch 9

Mao’s hands were soft, despite her line of work; only her fingertips had begun to callous. Her hands were deft as she cleaned and bandaged her wound each day, her touch gentle yet firm. Despite her aid, Castti’s recovery was fitful – her desire to help others constantly in conflict with the local apothecary’s orders.

“Please, Castti. Rest. The fighting has lulled, for now. The commander of their forces ordered a tentative truce, on account of your heroic actions. The hospital is the quietest it’s been for ages. Please, get some more rest.”

She allowed herself that rest, though it left her idle hands itching. She was well enough now she could stay in the local inn, rather than the cramped quarters of the hospital. Mao came through each evening to check in on her, not returning to her duties until morning roused them. Castti should have considered herself lucky, but without her work to distract her her mind wandered.

She gripped a letter in hand, delivered to her by the other apothecary. Sir Griff had recognized her cloak, and hearing of her lost memories had composed the missive before returning to the capital. He described a number of rumors he’d heard of her group, most in the same vein as those she heard in Canalbrine. One rumor stuck out.

Purple rain. A town to the east destroyed, the few who escaped speaking of purple rain falling from a dark cloud over the city. Castti found herself shivering. She’d read the letter a dozen times by now, but each time she read those words she felt a sudden sense of dread overwhelm her.

One of the few memories she’d recovered was of Malaya saving her from something. Rain had been coming down around the both of them in sheets. She focused on that memory, painful as it was. Her heart ached as her thoughts turned once again to Malaya. Slowly, memories began to trickle through the cracks.

Malaya’s arms around her, keeping her on her feet. The two stumbled through a deserted town, rain soaking through their cloaks. The puddles collecting at their feet, tinged with purple. A low fog hanging over the ground. The trickle of memories became a stream, then a flood, dragging her below the surface.

hey look! i remembered to write again! hooray! full fic's over on ao3, hopefully i will have the next chapter up sooner this time. was struggling with some hefty writer's block

#octopath 2 #octopath traveler 2 #octopath 2 fic #octopath 2 fanfic #castti florenz #partitio yellowil #hikari ku #full piece on ao3 #ao3fic #rest on ao3 #ao3 fanfic

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adragoninshiningarmour · 2 years

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Hello again, i have to say now in my opinion after re-reading Ch 15:2 & Ch 60:2 in parallel with the Ghost Game Evolutiontheme [First Riders] it is so charming suitable for Hack/Jesmon in his evolution & fight moments. Or for his chara theme.

Highlights.

The Theme is long x2 and blends in well with the emotional described combative action scenes as text and lines on your part Griff.

Perfect theme also in instrumental and metal version in rhythmic tone and flowing vocals for the shining newest 13th RK!!

Yeah, I agree! This fits with Jesmon's evolution scenes a lot. It's a pretty vigorous and emotive song that works well with his youthful energy.

#Digimon

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lightsteeped · 1 year

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ABOUT

hi! i'm griff. my main blog is @sweetcedar. i write a variety of characters on crystal dc. i'm always looking for contacts: you can read more about my characters on my carrd, here.

i want to avoid having multiple semi-inactive character blogs, so this is a catchall blog for rp chatter, inspiration, original work, and others' xiv stuff that i think is cool or funny.

ORGANIZATION TAGS

CHARACTERS where their tag came from any relationship subtags

ianthe: #ch: dulce et decorum from the wilfred owen poem, translating to 'sweet and proper'

hasret: #ch: between earth and death from persephone the wanderer, by louise glück

camille: #ch: meek to the nth from c.s. lewis' arguably rather shit essay, 'the necessity of chivalry' rl: wake me witch - iiwa rl: i am the bad daughter - her chosen mothers

lucienne: #ch: hell purgatory paradise from dante at verona, dante gabriel rosetti

elspeth: #ch: honey and gunpowder from .. something by peter s. beagle idk man i found it on pinterest

vedis: #ch: svanr sigrlana from an old norse kenning for raven, 'swan of the corpse-heaps'

synnove: #ch: scourge and sword from the prince of egypt's 'the plagues'

POST TYPES

i may or may not actually use these, being real with you original works: #writing others' rp writing: #sharing insp lit: #excerpts gposes etc: #screens oc art: #art

#this post was just made to be pinned #hi

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kade400words · 3 months

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#prose #fiction #writing #blog #fantasy

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photos-car · 8 months

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#Berline #Concept #Constructeur #Peugeot #Voitureélectrique #Photoscar

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beerpresure · 1 year

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ili

im v drunk

like everything in my life has hurt me are u ok griff

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50calmadeuce · 4 months

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Ch. 7: Funeral

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

You were dressed in a modest black sheath dress paired with elegant black heels. Your hair was artfully half-pinned up, and you shielded your crystal-blue eyes behind a pair of sunglasses as you stood solemnly at the funeral, which unfolded at the family plot in the south field. By your side, Sean offered his support. As you observed, you saw Jake and his family approach. Gazing at him from behind your sunglasses, you couldn't help but notice the tension in his jaw and the deliberate avoidance of looking your way.

You began wearing the engagement ring after Sean understood your reluctance, knowing you didn't want to risk damaging it while working on the farm.

Father Jacob approached you with a warm smile. "Y/N, it's truly wonderful to see you. It's been quite some time."

"It has, Father," you replied.

He glanced to your right. "And who is this?"

Sean extended his hand. "I'm Sean Fisk, Y/N's fiancé."

Father Jacob's eyebrows lifted in mild surprise as he shook Sean's hand. "Oh," he said and turned back to you. "Y/N. My deepest condolences for you. Your mother was a lovely woman."

"Thank you, Father."

He placed a hand on on your arm. "If you need anything. I'm here."

"Again, thank you, Father."

Father Jacob smiled warmly. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Griff had prepared a splendid buffet for after the funeral, and the house was bustling with people your mother had known. As you selected some vegetables for your plate, a sudden grip on your arm caught you off guard. You turned to find yourself locking eyes with Jake's sister, Leslie.

"Pantry, now," she hissed, her anger palpable as she briskly pulled you into the walk-in pantry and shut the door behind you. She released your arm and fixed you with an intense stare. "Y/N! What the fuck?"

"What?" you feigned innocence.

She pointed a finger at you. "Don't fuck with me! First of all, who's the handsome blond?"

"That would be Sean, my fiancé," you respond as you pick up a carrot from your plate, dip it in some dill dip, and take a bite.

"Since when?"

"About a month ago."

"I take it you didn't learn from Ben a few years ago, huh?"

You looked at her. "He wanted to move."

"He got stationed somewhere else for the Coast Guard. He didn't have a choice."

You continued to eat your carrot.

Leslie rolled her eyes. "And what about Jake?"

"What about him?"

"Good grief, Y/N. Sometimes you can be so oblivious."

"What?"

"Jake is still in love with you. He always has been."

You stared at her, utterly taken aback.

"He never got over what happened. He joined the Navy to prove your dad wrong. That he was and is good enough for you. Why else do you think he turned into an even bigger arrogant jerk than he already was? Like he had something to prove. You're the only one who grounds him. Everyone knows that except for you."

You stood there dumbfounded as the pantry door creaked open, and James entered. "The moment I didn't spot Leslie, I figured," he remarked to both of you, then directed his gaze at you. "Your fiancé is on the lookout for you."

You let out a resigned sigh, glancing up at the ceiling. "Of course he is." You looked back at Leslie. "Where's Jake?"

"Sweety, he left."

"What do you mean he left?"

"He's a pilot. He has his own plane. He left after the funeral."

You sighed again. "Let me get through this funeral first, and then we'll talk later."

"Got it."

You glanced at James. "I better go find my fiancé." You turned and headed towards the pantry door, opening it and stepping out.

James turned to Leslie. "Do you think she'll go through with it this time?"

"She better, because these two are driving me insane. Especially when he comes home searching for her."

"Ten years is more than enough."

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