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the-lupine-sojourner · 1 year

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The Story Traveller Saga [Book 1: Martin the Warrior] [Martin/Rose included]

Hi there!

I had this idea for Ayana as a 'Story Traveller' for a while and I'm finally starting the journey!

For those not familiar with Brian Jacques' Redwall series, it is a very wonderful (in my opinion) series of 22-ish books set in a really fun area called Mossflower. The titular Redwall is an abbey made of red sandstone and is populated by peaceful woodlanders such as mice, hedgehogs, otters, sometimes shrews, moles, etc. The villains in the stories are always foxes, weasels, stoats, ferrets, etc that threaten Redwall in some way.

Another location is Salamandastron, the mountain stronghold of warrior badgers and the Long Patrol hares.

In general, the plot is bad guys decide to attack Redwall, the abbey had to defend itself, someone is named Warrior of Redwall (picking up a famous sword wielded by Martin the Warrior, one of Redwall's founders), and the day is saved eventually. That's a really rough oversimplification, but hopefully you understand what I'm trying to say.

I will point out that this is Martin's origin story, with the story of how he helped found Redwall coming right after I finish this book! :)

Btw, if you like my writing, please consider buying me a ko-fi, or if you want, you can continuously support me writing stories by joining my Patreon!

Anyway, I will let you guys read the prologue for now, and I hope you guys like it! Any questions are welcome! (or if you wanna be on a taglist, please let me know!)

God Bless and Good Day!

~The Lupine Sojourner

My life was changed by four little words.

"Ayana…it's your grandmother." My heart dropped to my toes as my aunt sobbed over the phone, telling me my ailing grandmother was gone, passing quietly in her sleep.

It was the ideal way to go, but that doesn't dull the pain of her loss at all.

All too soon, I sit at her funeral, tears a steady stream down my face. Then, we all went from the memorial (held the day after the funeral) to the will reading.

It was fairly standard, really. My uncle and his wife got the house, and the grandchildren were to split my grandmother's clothes and other belongings among ourselves…except, apparently, her books.

"The personal library of Elizabeth MacBurrow is to be given to her granddaughter, Ayana MacBurrow, in its entirety, along with the enclosed envelope in its entirety."

Murmurs rang through the room. I myself was shocked. Nana and I had always been close but I hadn't expected this. No one had.

She'd always say I was the only one of her grandkids that would really listen to her bedtime stories (wonderful stories about heroes and villains, told through woodland animals) or let her talk to me about those books she loved (her bedtime stories were probably inspired by those books), but I never thought this would happen.

Now I have more books than I know what to do with, and a weird envelope. What was inside, I have no idea.

But, I have to go up and get the envelope, trying to ignore the murmurs still ringing around the room.

Strangely, it felt like there was something in it. Some small object, most likely made of metal as well as whatever paper was clearly inside.

I walk back to my seat, where my siblings tried to look at the envelope, but I tuck it into my purse, refusing to open it til I was alone.

I shrink into my seat, wishing this will reading was over already.

=#=#=#=#=

My mom, bless her, knew I wanted to be alone, so she didn't let anyone stop me from going to my room.

There, I lock the door and flop on my bed so I could finally open the mysterious envelope I'd gotten from Nana.

In it, as I thought, was a letter, and…a ring?

It was a lovely silver ring, looking like something an ancient king would wear, patterned a bit like a snake with an emerald for the snake's eye.

I frown. Why would Nana give me this, and her books? This makes no sense…

I open the letter, hoping that would clarify things.

My dear Ayana,

I'm afraid I don't have very long left in this life. I've made my peace with that, as sad as I know you and your family will be.

I've always felt that you were the most like me out of all the grandchildren. You are the only one with stars in your eyes, eager for an adventure. So I left my library to you, along with this ring.

I stumbled on this ring at an estate auction I attended years ago with your grandfather before his passing.

It took a long time to discover its wonderful ability, as I'm sure you will discover for yourself.

It may be frightening at first, but if my instincts are correct, you will grow to love the adventures the ring will unlock for you.

Remember always, dear child, that I love you. I will always be thankful I got to nurture your love of reading and adventures. I hope that passion continues to flourish in you.

I love you always,

Nana

Tears blur my vision. What does all this mean? What does this ring do? What does Nana want me to do?!

Not sure what else to do, I try the ring on my fingers. Turns out, it fits best on my left pointer finger. I twist it on my finger absently. Nana's books would be given to me tomorrow, more than likely. We lived fairly close to Nana's house, and we were planning on going through Nana's stuff tomorrow anyway.

I flop on my bed, sighing heavily. Nana had always been a bit eccentric but I loved that about her. I could listen to her stories for hours! I always felt like she and I sort of understood each other…

Now…I'm not sure what she's asking me to do. Does she want me to read her whole library? Or just…whatever I want to read from it? And why give me the ring? This makes no sense! Couldn't you have written a clearer note, Nana!? Why'd you have to be so enigmatic about something like this?

Feeling helpless and unsure, I fiddle with the ring as more tears flow.

=#=#=#=#=

Dinner had been awkward, and I wasn't looking forward to the trip over to Nana's house, or the influx of questions I was sure to get.

I'd been grilled about the envelope at dinner so much that Mom and Dad had to step in and tell them to leave me alone. Dinner ended up with me finishing my meal alone in my room, the door locked. Eventually, I fell asleep, still feeling awful I couldn't decipher Nana's note.

True to my prediction, my cousins are eager to know about the letter, so I hid in one of Nana's spare bedrooms to try to calm down as my parents explain the situation.

They'd knocked on my door last night and I let them in, letting them read the letter. They were as confused as I am, and agreed to not talk too much about it.

Eventually, the conversation grows quiet so I come out to find a few boxes of books ready to go and my parents boxing up more of Nana's library.

There were a lot, and I go to help them.

My parents had sent my cousins away to start looking at Nana's glassware collection, which I wasn't interested in at all.

"You ok, honey?" Mom asks gently as we close up a box of books.

"I dunno. I still feel…numb, I guess." I confess. "And a little overwhelmed with all these books and this ring business."

"We're here for you, Ayana. You know that, right?"

I nod.

"I know. I really appreciate you keeping the vultures away." I quip, trying for a smile.

"Couldn't let them munch on my baby!" Mom also tries for a smile, but neither of us can quite manage it.

One of my cousins, Rosemary, walks up. "Hey, Annie." She greets. It was a nickname my family had started, and I never minded it.

"Hey, Mary." I retort, using her nickname.

"I'm sorry for bombarding you with questions earlier. I just got so excited by what might be in that letter and I didn't even think of how you felt about it." Rosemary murmurs, sitting beside me. Mom and Dad move away to oversee what was going on in the basement.

"I can understand that curiosity. I am still trying to figure it out myself, I guess as a distraction from how I got the ring and letter."

"I get that." Rosemary chuckles a little and rubs my back. "Hey, um, we females are going to go over Nana's other jewelry if you want to take a look."

"...Ok."

We go into Nana's bedroom, where her jewelry had been spread about the foot of the bed, a few pieces already on my cousins' hands, wrists, or necks.

"Hey, Annie." A few greet, no one wanting to awkwardly apologize for their behavior, but I could see the remorse and regret in their eyes, so I let it slide and start peeking at jewelry.

The rest of the day passes fairly uneventfully (my wardrobe a little fuller with some sweaters, cardigans, and coats of Nana's with a few trinkets wrapped up in clothes, a small box of pins, a few necklaces, and a few pairs of earrings) and soon we were unloading the many boxes of books into our living room where my parents were partway through making some bookshelves to house my new books.

I open a box of books Nana seemed to have read a lot, judging by the wear to the outside. I reach inside and grab a random book, heading to my room.

I barely get three pages in before I fall asleep, feeling like I was falling, but I wasn't scared as the darkness envelopes me.

#Fanfiction #redwall fanfiction #redwall #brian jacques #Story Traveller #Ayana MacBurrow #OC #Original Character #original female character

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naomirach · 1 year

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My Christmas Aged 8

It’s taken me a long time to write this next memory of mine it has been through many versions, rewritten, deleted and finally I have decided to stop agonising over every word and tiny detail.

The Christmas when I was 8 happened in the early eighties. A normal Christmas day involved my immediate family: parents and my two brothers, and all four grandparents. It was fairly crowded with all nine of us, but as my parents were both only-children, myself and my brothers were the only grandchildren. Both grandmothers dressed immaculately most of the time, and Christmas was a time for them to really dress to the nines. My paternal-grandmother was a petite lady, barely 150cm tall, who had a preference for pencil skirts, with fitted matching jacket often with a thin belt, and always strappy high heels - even into her early seventies. My maternal-grandmother was a few years older and her fashion sense was 1950s based, dresses with fitted bodice, nipped in waist, and a fullish skirt. To me both were incredibly elegant, unlike my mum who tended to slacks.

One of the things my brothers and I had to do in early November was write a letter each to our grandparents. This letter had started out, over a decade before more as a reminder to the grandparents of out interests, what we had been reading, things like that; the letters were born from widely inaccurate presents that led to upset grandchildren and wasted money. However, by the time of this Christmas the letters had morphed into a list of things we wanted! Dutifully we all wrote our letters, each one twice - that was tedious, no emails or photocopies then.

This was the year when I also decided to write my alternative list, this one was full of the things I really wanted for Christmas, every single thing was for the real me, the girl I now thought of as Naomi (having found out earlier in the year that my parents would have called me Naomi, if I’d been AFAB). Everything single item I picked from from the two home-shopping catalogues my mum would get through the post, they were an absolute delight for me - pages and pages of girls clothes and toys, a wonderland just waiting for me. So I started writing my real list, using a purple biro in my best writing I could muster - I’d been watching closely the writing styles of the girls in my class and had practised the more flowing, curvy style they had as against the boys version, including drawing a circle over i’s and j’s instead of a dot. Each line had the catalogue name, the page number and letter, then the code, a description of it and if it was an item of clothing the correct size. I was so thorough. It ran through underwear: knickers, vests with lace edges, knee-length socks, ribbed tights. School clothing: skirts, dresses, blouses, jumpers, shoes, gym wear (more skirts). There were toys, quite a lot of them I recall, we were just entering the pink-blue girl-boy toy division, so there was quite a lot of pink, in my defence everyone else considered me to be a boy so I didn’t have anything at all that was pink!

The only toys I remember from that first alternate Christmas list was: a Barbie (my dream was once I’d put Barbie in a dress, then my action man was getting the same treatment and was never going to seen out of dresses ever) and a Girl’s World Styling Head (speaks for itself really, I needed to learn to style hair). Then it was on clothes I’d wear at the weekends - unsurprisingly more skirts, tops, dresses and shoes.

But I saved the best for last - my Christmas dress, the dress I would wear all day, the dress that showed who I really was to all my family, the dress that would define me as a daughter, a grand-daughter and a sister. I imagined myself running round the house in it, jumping up and down, skirts flaring, just being the happiest i had ever been. It was a total party dress, the type girls wore to the posher birthday parties I’d been invited to, and been so envious of. It was red and black (still my favourite combination), an abstract pattern on the bodice, a black underskirt with red net possibly tulle over that, it was so beautiful I just needed to have it and wear it, I planned to wear it the entire holiday. I picked shoes to go with it, strappy and a hint of a heel (I suspect I picked them from the teenager section rather than the child part).

When it was finished the letter was a work of art, beautiful even handwriting, and so regular - and no-one was going to see it. I hid it under my bed, I secretly hoped it would be found, and acted upon but was terrified that at the same time.

Anyway it reached Christmas morning and as was usual my middle brother and I went into my parents bedroom to open some small presents, these were meant to keep us occupied for the morning as well as have some useful things for us (for the latter read boring - socks, pants) the former would be little toys, things to make, a book, all contained in a pillow case. The first thing i opened was a slinky - the thing that works it way down stairs - I remember thinking that’s really useful for a house were later on there would be nine people (4 in their seventies), with only one toilet, yes, upstairs - I could see the chaos. And then i opened a present, I couldn’t believe my eyes - the pattern was floral, the colours were a bit dull (black and brown) but it was quite clearly a packet of floral patterned knickers! So many thoughts ran through my head: had my letter been found, though these knickers weren’t on my list that didn’t matter, desperately thought if I had felt other gifts that felt they could be clothing in my pillow case, there had been a box I thought could be shoes. I felt my dream becoming a reality, finally showing the world the girl I knew I was, most of all wearing that dress, I wondered were it was hanging up. I was so happy, and then, and then I had to turn the packet over to be confronted by a packet, not of knickers but Y-fronts. I was destroyed, I rushed out saying I needed the loo, but just needed and excuse to hideaway and cry as my dreams disappeared.

I don’t remember much more of that Christmas, it’s almost as if I had selective amnesia from that point on for a couple of days. Just writing this has caused sadness to wash over me, remembering how the girl I was then never got to show herself.

I hated wearing those Y-fronts they were a constant reminder of a horrible time. However, about three months later, one day I decided to put them on backwards, then they were floral knickers with a smooth front and due to the material they made me smooth, I also discovered tucking that day. Every day after that until they fell apart, when any of the pairs were put out for me, I’d put them on back-to-front and know I had something that showed I was a girl.

I kept writing alternative Christmas letters until I was 18, no-one ever found them and after a few months I would make certain to destroy them.

Now, Christmas is different, I’m getting a skirt from my wife this year, previous years I’ve had satin nightdresses, last year she gave me animal print T-bar heels. I’m so incredibly lucky to be with her. I do hope that at some point I will get to be completely Naomi, and have a Christmas where I’m in a party dress and with my family, being as elegant as my grandmothers all those years past. Perhaps I’ll wear the dress that two years ago started girl date nights, it would be fitting seeing as it is red and black.

And if you’ve read to the end of this (I know it’s rather long and I trimmed whole paragraphs, so count yourself lucky - it was longer 15 minutes before posting!) I hope you all have a fantastic Christmas and New Year, I know I intend to.

#naomirach

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thebeigecurtain · 3 months

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The apples are in the fridge. Lee was over the other day and I dug through the clasped orange mailer I keep your letters in. We decided neither of us had officially made the filling for the pies, you always did it before we got there. All you'd tell us was that drying on a "piller" case in the sun was the best way. I find loose instructions scrawled at the top of some notebook paper noting dried apples are best. Lots of sugar. Needs to be cold to make pies. Okay, I've dried them. The apples are in the fridge.

The last ones you made tasted of moth balls. I spit a mouthful into the trash, twisting the corners of my lips into a frown. The nurse aide who helped you with your baths and your dishes and things mostly a mystery to me, asked you to show her to make them. Your daughter in law, my momma, placed the mothballs. Presumably, in every corner of your single-wide. You thought they'd keep snakes away; but a quick google search tells me that's not true and the smell hit me like a wall each time I opened the screen door.

Watching you get weaker tasted like the last pies you made.

Once you moved down to momma's house I sat with you a lot. You chuckled remembering my ability to walk barefoot across the gravel to your trailer and told me, ever so truthfully, that you couldn't remember what your house looked like. You said it was there, but "real....faint". We held hands. I dug through the closet in the room where your bed was on two occasions because you'd been staring at the door, wondering what was behind it. Old home videos, VHS tapes, a hat from Halloween, some Dr Seuss books. I told you Mr Brown Can Moo was one of my favorites and you thumbed through it. You showed me the pattern on your pajama pants - "in't that perty?" - talked so highly of my mother - poked, grinning at my smallest niece who insisted you sip water from the straw she placed at your lips - appeased her with nibbles from the Hershey's bars she brought you.

It was 2:16 am when you stopped breathing. Your breastbone rose and fell under the gaze of your son, Momma, and I. Your hand was held and we were there. Momma lit a cigarette at 2:24. My dad wiped the sleep from his eyes. I smoothed your hair.

Four months later I'm still struggling to string together the words I want to use. There's something about an Oldsmobile with small pots of Carmex in the compartments by the door handle. Cats on the porch, pringles and RC cans, and you, squatting on an overturned bucket in the garden. Splitting peas and picking strawberries and the screwdriver you used to hold the gate shut. Westerns and crosswords and your letters in my mailbox. Butter pecan ice cream and pretending to hear what someone had said. Always being able to hear my mom. Mini cokes and grocery lists she'd take to town; an index card, print in all caps. Gallon jugs of cheese balls and the type of candy grannies keep for grandchildren. The way you started saying "I love you" after you turned 95. And apples you'd pulled from the fridge. Fit for making pies with.

#me

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melbournenewsvine · 2 years

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When the footpath is not a footpath

We’ve been told of pedestrians refusing to be careful when crossing roads (“Police Urge Pedestrians to Remain Alert After Death,” October 2). As a decent elderly person, always aware of my surroundings, I am stunned by the daily dangers that law-abiding pedestrians face from cars, bikes, and scooters. At my local intersection, cars often light up when pedestrians have the right to cross. Often on footpaths, cyclists fail to sound their horns when approaching pedestrians from behind. Also, cyclists and scooters (not just children) dash on footpaths and put pressure on those who walk. I’ve seen speeding cyclists crossing crowded roads almost onto footpaths and crashing into pedestrians. The term “pedestrian lane” has become a misnomer, and the idea of a “common path” has become a joke. The lion’s share of space will always go to those who drive fast cars, and not to weak humans. The benefits of walking for the elderly are many. But if threats to their safety persist, many will forego this inexpensive health activity. Caroline Gresh, Dulwich Hill Your article referred to an important safety issue for pedestrians crossing Sydney’s main roads. We live on the corner of Parramatta Road and Glebe Point Street. We were given about 5 seconds to walk through the four lanes of the Broad Parramatta before the drivers made the turn from Glebe Point Road to get the green light to turn into Parramatta Road. We leave the pavement a second the light turns green, but believe me there is always a scramble to try to get out of the way of turning vehicles that are often (not always) driven by impatient drivers. Lots of pedestrians cross this intersection to go to Victoria Park, the University of Sydney or the public swimming pool. Please give us a reasonable amount of time to cross so that we can avoid a tragedy like the one at Sunflower Drive in Claremont Meadows (“Three pedestrians killed in 24 hours as police urge caution on long weekend,” October 1, where a grandfather was killed On his way home from visiting his grandchildren. Louis Katz, Gleb Parramatta no strength Not only does the new planned museum for Parramatta look like an event center masquerading as a museum (“More Event Center than a Museum: Report,” October 2), it has also adopted a pseudonym and in the process stole a distinct identity. It’s not the Powerhouse Museum. That institution, however weak it may be in the future, still stands proudly at Ultimo. Phil Rodwell, Redfern Dangerous sex on TV Applause to Daisy Turnbull for her thoughts on screen approval rating (“We should know what we agree to watch,” Oct. 2). The most recent example is House of the Dragon, where sexual encounters in sexual encounters transition from one-sided “exercises” to intimate, heart-warming heights. Whether the audience will pick up the director is not a very subtle difference in the various interrelationships, there is a question. It is no exaggeration to suggest that developing young minds who take in these cinematic pairs can leave them with a less than consensual sense of reality. Steve Dillon, Thyrol No need to classify consensual or non-consensual sex. Just make movies without sex scenes and let the viewer use their imagination. Jenny Greenwood, Hunters Hill Rules can’t be broken I also attended a Catholic girls’ school in Sydney (Letters, 2 October), in my case during the 1960s. The rules were ample. Athletic height rules and uniforms were also an advantage. Others included: not talking to boys in uniform, not talking in toilets, covering bleached or colored hair with a cloth shower cap (school colors), and not pulling out eyebrows. We never thought about wearing jewelry or makeup. At one point we were asked to carry bricks, yes bricks, from the lower campus up to the top in preparation for the new science block building. However, we knew the rules and no one forced us to go to school. We would not describe our experience in four letter words. Margaret Wright, Narembern Albu Tax Hero Source link Originally published at Melbourne News Vine

#Melbourne News Vine

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lilisbigworld · 2 years

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"I hope it's good news," he says softly, bowing his head before walking to the door. "Have a good day, Lili!"

“I- you too!” I call back and quickly tear open the letter, scanning it for any sign of an official break up.

I love-

“What…” I whisper, absolutely shocked, “it was all… he didn’t- oh.”

I hurry home once the store closes and pull out two scrap pieces of paper I stole from the counter today, backs of receipts Depur Jon filled out.

I write a letter carefully before using a third scrap paper to fold into an envelope, heading out early the next day to send it before my shift.

Ani,

I don’t believe I know how to express how shocked I am to hear from you, and on a positive note at that. I was certain that when Deval dropped this letter off it would be an official request of divorce. Which, by the way, I would have and would understand.

I do think it’s rather silly you didn’t think to send a letter somewhere else, as it’s not like we don’t have post offices on Tatooine, haha. I forgive you though, I just missed hearing from you. We all did. Kit and your mom, too.

I am okay, a lot has happened since we last spoke that I don’t really know how to summarize so I’ve decided I will just give you a few words per event. Ahem. My mother died, I moved in with your mom, I got sold, Shmi met a guy, I got proposed to and declined, Shmi got proposed to and accepted, Shmi got married, Shmi was freed, Shmi moved in with her husband and left the house to me here, Cliegg (her husband) has a boy our age that is now like a weird brother/sort of cousin to me and his name is Owen, Owen got a girlfriend named Beru, Cliegg lost his leg (oh no!), Kit freed his baby sister that was born after you left (she’s three), Kit has almost freed his mother, Sebulba has won ever Boonta Cup since you left, Tuskens have gotten worse and now venture into the city, a Tusken war happened and humans won, a plague hit the slaves and several died, Mala (the elder) is alive and kicking and has had four great- grandchildren born since you left.

Wow, that’s a lot. Big paragraph, I’m sorry about that. Feel free to send multiple questions back about which events you want more detail on!

Please do not send me a present, I am not in need of anything at the moment. If you send anything, Kit’s sister (Kellah) has been asking for stuffed dog for a year and no one can afford one.

And please do not be nervous because I can assure you I am bored all of the time and reading this made the day so much better. Tell me about your life! What are you up to! How is being a Jedi? I am very jealous, I wish I had the Force and could have gone with you.

Also… they make Jedi trading cards and Kit and I have been pretty obsessed. I am sending my favorite one (Kenobi!!!!) and am humbly asking you to send it back signed. I don’t care if you need to lie to do it but Kit will cry if I have a signed card and he doesn’t. hehe.

I wish you all the best and to have a wonderful and happy time,

With affection,

Lili

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watchmegetobsessed · 2 years

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BEST FRIEND

A/N: im so glad you guys love this iconic duo just as much as i do! so here is a bit of a more emotional piece!

WORD COUNT: 2k

SUMMARY: It's your niece's birthday party and Nan lets Harry in on a piece of her past. She finally tells him about her late husband and the love she shared with him.

MORE FROM THE NAN&HARRY UNIVERSE

Nan’s place is the designated family party place, always. Birthdays, graduations, summer barbeques, holidays, Nan’s cottage is where the family gathers. This time you’re celebrating your niece, Bianca’s fifth birthday and of course, you and Harry are invited as well.

He has had a few busy weeks and it’s nice to have him back home and away from the public’s curious eyes for a bit before his album promo kicks in.

“You think she’ll like it?” Harry picks on his bottom lip as you’re driving over to Nan’s, Bianca’s birthday gift wrapped in shiny pink paper sitting on the backseat. He picked it out himself, Bianca’s latest obsession is Legos and Harry spent an hour in a Lego shop to choose out the best sets for her. She is getting the Main Street Building set along with the Magical Funfair Rollercoaster, two of the biggest sets there is.

“She’ll be screaming for an hour when she sees them,” you chuckle, peeking over at him.

It’s a sunny Saturday, perfect for a little backyard fun at Nan’s and you can’t help but smile when you reach her house and see a bunch of colorful balloons tied to the tiny gate, a giant, glittery letter B attached to the front door. Nan always goes all out when it comes to her grand and great-grandchildren.

Nan had your mom and her siblings very young. She was just twenty-four and already had three kids, and then most of her children got married and started a family pretty early as well, making her a grandmother by the age of forty-four, and a great-grandmother at only sixty-five. Luckily, she is doing a lot better for her age, her health is impeccable and her doctors say she’ll be around for a long time. It’s giving her lots of time to spend with her big, loving family and that’s all she wants to do for sure.

You park down across the street and Harry grabs the giant gift before the two of you approach the front door that is open of course. Laughter and chatter is coming from the backyard and you run into uncles and aunts the moment you walk inside.

Harry is just as loved by everyone else in the family as he is by Nan. He gets along well with everyone and finds the common ground so easily, he can charm everyone in a moment.

“There you are! I thought you wouldn’t even come!” Nan walks in, wearing a blue and yellow floral dress with her white apron over it, carrying an empty pitcher she puts aside the moment she sees the two of you chatting in her living room.

“We would never miss it, Nan,” Harry smiles as he envelopes the tiny lady in his arms and you watch them with a full heart.

“You better not!” she chuckles, patting Harry on the back before letting him go and pulling you into a warm hug as well. “Have you two eaten? Come on, let me feed you!”

All the kids are running around in the garden, the adults are enjoying the food and drinks and catching up on the missed time since the last occasion you gathered like this. As expected, Bianca goes crazy about the Lego sets and it’s hard to get her not to start building it right away.

Harry remains by your side mostly, a hand on your waist or shoulder all along, but then the men snatch him away for a beer he can actually take because you’re the designated driver for the night.

“Harry, Honey! Would you be so kind and help me serve the ice-cream?” Nan asks him and he follows her with a nod into the kitchen.

“It’s a wonderful birthday party, Nan,” Harry hums with a small smile as the two of them are scooping the ice-cream into glasses that will be handed out in a bit to the guests.

“Oh, it’s the people that make it wonderful,” she smiles back at him. “So Harry, tell me! When are you gonna propose to my sweet Y/N?”

Harry can’t contain his growing smile as he focuses on the ice-cream. Nan’s been hinting at it for a while now, asking when the two of you are tying the knot already and he thinks she has every right to be questioning him. You’ve been together for years now and you’re definitely heading in the right direction.

And Nan is not the only one who’s been thinking about marriage. Harry knows he wants to be with you for the rest of his life, but he wants to do it right and give you the proposal you deserve and that’s not possible when he is always on the road. He already has a little break planned soon when he can give you all his attention and ask you to marry him in the best way possible.

“Oh Nan, why is the hurry?” Harry asks with a cheeky smirk.

“Hurry? You’ve been dating for years! You should have asked her the first year!”

“Is that so?” he chuckles. “Isn’t that a little too fast, Nan?”

“When you know it, you know it,” she says. “Steven proposed to me three months after we met, we were married two weeks later!”

It’s the first time Nan is talking about her late husband straight to Harry. The passing of Gramps was hard on her and even though it’s been six years since Gramps left, she hasn’t been willing to talk about him that openly. You told Harry about him though, how insanely in love they were even after almost fifty years of marriage.

“Three months? Wow, Nan, you two didn’t waste any time!” Harry smiles at her and she just shrugs with a chuckle.

“Told you, when you know it, you know it.”

There’s a bit of silence and Harry hesitates before asking her some more about Gramps, but he feels like it’s a nice chance to bring back some great memories of him and get her to open up.

“What was the wedding like?”

Nan sighs, putting back the lid to the ice-cream box and Harry almost starts apologizing for the question, but when Nan looks up at him he sees a nostalgic smile tugging on her wrinkled lips.

“Ice-cream is ready!” she calls out before taking Harry’s hand and pulling him after her into the bedroom.

“Because we didn’t have much time, it wasn’t anything over the top. It’s not like we could have afforded it anyway,” she chuckles as she starts looking for something in a drawer of her dresser before she pulls out a photo album. The two of them sit on the edge of her neatly made bed as she opens the album, giving him a glimpse of the life she had way before he was even born.

She flips a few pages before stopping at one that has a wedding photo of her and Steven, the date scribbled underneath it reads 1968.

“I wore my sister’s wedding dress, my mother altered it for me, because I had a slimmer waist than Debora,” she says, pointing at the lacy dress she is wearing in the picture, smiling next to Steven. They were so young, almost unrecognizable, but Harry is mesmerized by the photo, because there’s one thing that grabs his attention right away.

You look exactly like her.

The resemblance is uncanny, the smile, the line of her eyebrows, her elegant figure, Harry sees so much of you in this tiny bit of Nan’s past.

“We went to the city hall in the afternoon and one of my uncles owned a textile factory with a huge yard at the back, that’s where we had a little party after the ceremony. We invited our families and friends, had some music and food, it was all we needed.”

“You looked beautiful, Nan,” Harry smiles.

“And he looked so handsome,” she sighs dreamily, running her fingers over Steven’s smiling face on the photo.

“Do you have more pictures?”

“Of course! This was taken on our honeymoon, which we only could go on two years later,” she chuckles, flipping a page, showing a picture of her with Steven and there’s already a baby in her arms. “That’s Lisa, our eldest. I got pregnant way faster than we were expecting, but it was such a blessing,” she adds.

She shows dozens of photos to Harry of the first ten years of her marriage, telling him stories of her and her friends, of Steven, their kids and all the adventures they went on together. Harry listens intently, soaking in every word and he watches the photos in awe. She talks so fondly of the time she spent with Steven and it’s obvious she found the love of her life.

“You had a great life together,” Harry says as they reach the end of the album.

“The best. I just wish we had more time together,” Nan sighs and though Harry can’t see her eyes, he catches how she wipes her cheek.

“I’m sure he is watching you and he is happy you’re living such a great life.”

“I know,” she smiles, looking at him. “I talk to him sometimes. Tell him about what’s happening.”

Standing from the bed she puts the album away before grabbing a framed photo from the top of the dresser, it’s got Gramps smiling in front of an old car, he looks about thirty years old, charming and looking so happy.

“I know it sounds crazy, but he was my best friend and I want him to know everything. So when we meet again we can just pick up from where we left.”

She is smiling down at the picture and Harry can feel his throat closing up at the way she is talking about him.

“It’s not crazy, Nan. I’m sure he’ll be waiting for you when the time comes,” Harry replies as he stands from the bed and curls an arm around her shoulders. “Just please stay with us a little longer, alright? I mean, you’ll have to dance with me at our wedding with Y/N,” he smirks down at her, hoping to cheer her up a bit.

Nan chuckles, placing back the framed picture before pinching Harry’s side.

“You need to propose before the wedding could happen!” she reminds him and Harry just nods before the two of them return to the party.

That night, when Harry is lying in bed, waiting for you to finish in the bathroom he can’t help but think about everything Nan told him earlier. You walk out, wearing one of his boxer briefs and a loose t-shirt, humming to yourself happily before joining him in bed. You notice how deep in his thoughts he is so as you cuddle to his side you poke his cheek teasingly.

“What’s going on in that pretty head?” you ask, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Harry looks down at you with hooded eyes, taking a moment to admire you.

“You’re my best friend, you know that, right?”

“And you are mine,” you smile at him softly.

“Nan told me about Gramps today.”

His confession surprises you, everyone in the family knows Gramps is a touchy subject for Nan, she doesn’t just randomly bring him up.

“Really?”

“Yeah. She showed me their wedding pictures and told me some stories… She misses him. A lot.”

“They loved each other very much. We were all devastated when Gramps passed away so suddenly. But I guess it’s a good sign that she told you about him.”

“I felt honored,” he murmurs, pulling you tighter into his hold, kissing the crown of your head. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too,” you coo, before craning your neck so your lips could meet his for a soft kiss.

In that moment, Harry knows he’ll ask you to marry him as soon as possible. He doesn’t want to waste a moment he could spend with officially calling you his wife.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #nan and harry #the nan and harry universe #harry styles series

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littlemissnoname13 · 3 years

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Blaise’s Cup of Tea (D.M)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: some mentions of alcohol, very mild sexual themes, nothing too explicit, Draco being a fûxkboy ,Draco being a huge simp

Summary: where Draco is secretly in love with his best friend’s fiancée

Word count: 2122

A/n: had this idea in the shower and I couldn’t help myself. The blog has been a mess recently and for that I apologise.

For Draco Malfoy, a typical night usually consisted of three things.

First, a glass of his favourite spirit; preferably scotch in his hand.

Second, a cigar tucked in between his fingers

And third, a random girl in his bed chambers. It didn't matter if his company for the night shared the same interests as him, it didn't matter if she liked him for who he was or if she liked him solely for being the heir to the massive Malfoy fortune.

Come morning, he would never have to see her again anyway.

His Father, Lucius always chastised him for bringing a different girl as a plus one to social events. Even Narcissa wasn't all too pleased about her son engaging in all these hedonistic activities and bedding random girls.

The friends he’d grown up with were all well on their way to settling down and having children while he was still not even close to having a serious relationship.

“Why can’t you be more like Zabini?” Lucius would say, everytime the Malfoys sat down for a family dinner. Narcissa would agree to this while expressing her desire for grandchildren and Draco would have to refrain from choking on his dinner.

Blaise Zabini, was happily engaged to longtime girlfriend Daphne Greengrass and they were busy planning their Summer wedding.

Every time Draco would meet Blaise for a drink, all he’d talk about was Daphne, the wedding, floral arrangements, invites and party favours. Just last week, Blaise even confessed to having already thought out names for his future children.

Taking a final sip of his scotch, Draco placed his glass on his desk and returned to his bed, where a random brunette girl was peacefully asleep.

He took a few moments to recall her given name in his mind but this attempt remained futile. He couldn’t even remember how he felt while they were doing the deed a few hours prior.

His father was right, he was slowly turning into, for a lack of a better term, “Pig person.”

As he quietly slipped into his bed next to the brunette, he started to think about all the one night stands he’d had in the last few months.

One night stands are appropriately called one night stands for a reason. He knew that.

But it wasn't his fault he couldn’t get that one particular night from four months ago with that one particular girl out of his system.

It had all started out so innocently.

A chance encounter at a bar, alcohol fueled conversation, his hands on her hips on the dance floor and his lips on her lips by the end of the night.

He’d never before met anybody so charming yet painfully frustrating in his life.

Y/n. Y/l/n.

Distinctive features, expressive eyes and lips that quirked upward with a wicked smile.She had one of those faces that had the capability of engraving itself into one’s subconscious and the way her brows furrowed in annoyance indicated that she might have been aware and unnerved by it.

In the few hours he’d spent with her, she’d stimulated his brain with her wits and intellect. She’d made him care about uninteresting things like the witch burnings in the 14th Century. She’d challenged his predetermined notions and world view.

Everything about her was vivacious.

Her effervescence reminded him of a freshly opened bottle of sparkling Rosé on a hot summers day. Crisp yet sweet if you took in a moment for the flavours to sink in.

And Merlin was this girl could kiss!

The way she gently nipped on his lower lip and teasingly traced her tongue left him with something more to be desired.

Nothing happened with Y/n that night. Nothing except feverish kisses and whispers of “I want you.”

They’d spent the whole night talking. He’d never spent the night with a girl and not done anything before.

And she’d left before he could even manage to open his eyes the next morning.

She’d disappeared without a sign or trace.

Nothing but her fruity fresh scent on his pillows remained to remind him that she was in fact real and not some hallucination.

Draco went the the very same bar again the next day with his hopes held high. He wanted to see her again. He needed to see her again.

But to his utter dismay, y/n never showed up.

Soon, it became a habit of his to go to the bar and wait for her.

He’d gotten so desperate at one point that he even interrogated the bar keep about the girl that had seemingly managed to capture his attention in the span of a night.

But no matter how hard he tried, Draco never got any answers.

She became nothing but a distant ghost of a rather blissfully perfect night.

Just when he was about to toss away the memories of y/n and her pretty lips inside a locked and chained box in his head, he heard his house elf appear with a pop into his bed chambers.

“Master Malfoy, this letter just came for you.” The elf said quietly as he stretched out his arm to hand Draco a sealed envelope.

Draco would have told his elf off for appearing in his chambers in the middle of the night but decided against it when he saw the scrawl of Blaise’s messy handwriting on the envelope.

It was two in the morning and a rather odd time for Blaise to be sending him a letter.

Assuming that it must be something urgent, Draco quickly ripped open the seal and unfolded the letter.

Draco,

I write this with a heavy heart and I write this with nothing for company except a bottle of bourbon.

Daphne left me this morning.

The wedding is off and it is all my fault.

To be honest, It did feel like things were going too fast and we were jumping to life altering decisions without taking the time to think and contemplate.

After thinking all day, I have decided to get married after all.

Your mother has been rather kind and offered to set me up with a girl that is supposedly “perfect for me.” Although I definitely trust her judgement, It would be great if you could “assist” Narcissa in her search. You are my best friend after all.

B.Z.

By the time Draco was done reading Blaise’s letter, the girl sleeping next to him had started to toss and turn in her sleep.

~~~

When his mum flooed into his residence the next morning, Draco’s company for the night, who was named Sylvia by the way, was just on her way out.

Sylvia was rather laid back and was looking for nothing other than a rebound. Draco had offered her tea but she’d politely declined stating that she had brunch planned with her friends anyway.

“And who is this charming young lady, Draco?” Narcissa asked.

“She’s Sylvia and Sylvia was just on her way out.” Draco said in a clipped voice before literally shoving an annoyed looking Sylvia into the fireplace.

“It was nice meeting you Mrs. Malfoy.” Sylvia said in a calm and polite voice, with floo powder in her hands. “See you around Draco.”

“And I thought, you were finally serious for once.” Narcissa sighed before sinking down into one of the many chairs Draco had in his living room.

Draco wanted to say something sarcastic in response but he bit his tongue and held it all back. There were more pressing matters at hand that required his attention. Like helping his mum find an appropriate match for Blaise who has so casually placed such a huge responsibility on his shoulders.

The responsibility required him to go on multiple, rather tiresome “dates” set up by his mother.

The first girl he met mistook him for Blaise.

The second girl he met confessed that she was being coaxed into the meeting by her overbearing parents and had a secret Muggle boyfriend that she loved with her whole heart.

The third girl he met was one of Blaise’s ex girlfriends.

The fourth girl turned out to be one of Draco’s own one night stands that had ended on a sour note.

It was safe to say that Draco returned to his mother that night with his shirt stained burgundy from the wine she’d poured over his head. He deserved it though.

Narcissa even agreed that he’d deserved it because she broke into a chuckle when her son walked into the Malfoy Manor with drops of wine falling from his blond hair.

“Well this is a disaster.” Draco muttered to his mother who gave him an accomplished looking smile in return.

“This was a Disaster.” She quipped, before leaning towards the coffee table to pour herself some more tea. “Luckily, I’ve already found someone I deem to be a suitable partner for Blaise.”

“You have?”

“I have. I too have been pulling some reins and meeting people personally for Blaise. He is like a son to me after all.”

“Looks like I got splashed with a vintage red for no apparent reason then.” Draco muttered before using his wand to summon a clean cotton shirt.

Narcissa simply shook her head at her son and stood up from her chair. “I’ve actually invited her for tea today so that you’d be able to meet her as well. Why don’t you fix your hair and put on a clean shirt before she gets here hm?”

Draco knew there was no point in arguing with his mother.

When Narcissa Malfoy wanted things done, she’d sure as hell go ahead and get them done. A true Slytherin she was.

He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and used a cleaning charm on his hair. He would have preferred to shower but he didn’t really have the time to dilly-dally around.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He heard a voice say, just as he was about to put on his clean shirt.

It was a familiar voice and it raised prickling goosebumps all over his exposed flesh.

The goosebumps were a natural reaction to hearing a voice he’d replayed over and over in his head every single night for the last four months.

In front of him stood Y/n Y/l/n in the flesh. Very much real and not a ghost of his imagination, clad in a blush coloured midi dress with a sweetheart neckline.

He opened his mouth to answer but his mother beat him to it.

“Welcome to our home. Sit down, have some tea with us.” Narcissa said in her best hostess voice and all Draco could do was force his hanging jaw shut.

~~~~~~

The next few hours felt like the longest yet shortest few hours of his life.

He was still processing the fact that he had in fact seen the girl, the ghost, the memory right in front of his eyes, wearing a dress that made her look like a scene in a vintage film.

His palms were sweaty, his head was reeling, his throat was as dry as the Sahara and he could barely pay any attention to a word his mother was saying.

“Draco?” Narcissa cleared her throat when he failed to respond. “Draco dear, are you listening?”

“Yes mother.” He replied curtly before taking a sip of his tea in a desperate attempt to soothe his throat.

After what seemed like another torturous hour of tea and polite conversation, you thanked Narcissa for having you and leaned in to place a chaste kiss on his cheek before taking the floo network.

“The Y/l/n family has been a friend to our family for years.” Narcissa commented. “I think Blaise would be rather fond of y/n. What do you think, Draco?”

He wanted to tell his mother about the time he spent with you four months ago.

He wanted to tell her that he was ready for a serious relationship if it was with you.

He never really cared for the colour pink but it suddenly felt like a rather nice colour.

You were witty, clever, sincere and extremely gorgeous. Of course Blaise would like you. He’d be a fool not to.

After taking a few more seconds to carefully contemplate the situation at hand, Draco finally opened his mouth.

“Yes, I think Blaise would like Y/n.”

Narcissa looked at him with a satisfied smile and the weight of a fully grown giant landed on Draco’s shoulder.

Maybe you weren't Blaise’s cup of tea.

Maybe he’ll get back together with Daphne. Yeah, that would be perfect.

But what if he didn’t?

Could Draco live his whole life knowing that he was absolutely smitten with his Best Friend’s soon to be Fiancée?

~~~

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 3 years

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45 Years

More and more, I look forward to the reviews for films like 45 Years - this is one of those films I didn’t know anything about going in, other than that it’s likely going to make me cry. Chad requested this due to its performances, and that’s usually enough to get me solidly on board. The film centers around a married couple, Geoff and Kate (Tom Courtenay and Charlotte Rampling) who are preparing to throw a party in celebration of their 45th wedding anniversary. The week before the party, a mysterious letter arrives, informing Geoff that the body of a woman from his past has been found in the ice in a glacier in Switzerland. As the nature of his relationship with this woman is revealed, things grow more and more tense between him and Mary, culminating in a huge emotional standoff that is the climax of the film. It’s a slow burn drama that feels almost play-like, as the central performances of Courtenay and Rampling are really the reason for the season here more than any plot or driving action. So we’ve got a film that’s purely about these two people and how they play off of each other - was that enough to keep me entertained? Well...

Here’s the thing. Acting is hard, and Courtenay and Rampling make it look easy. But my issue lies with the story itself - I can empathize, certainly, but as with most movies (stories of all kinds, really) centering on a romantic conflict, the problem can be solved with four little words: TALK TO EACH OTHER.

Some thoughts:

There’s a Very Good Dog named Max! Max is probably the most cheerful thing about the film.

On a surface level, it’s all very quaint. They live in a sweet little British village, their house and land is all big windows and verdant hills and they wear little wool jumpers and drink tea, and everything feels very cozy, if a little bland.

I’m a little confused why Kate is so upset that Geoff was this mystery ice mummy’s next of kin. Is it because she didn’t know until now? Like he was purposefully keeping the nature of their relationship a secret to her? Based on their conversations, it seems clear Mary knew Geoff dated this woman and that she died. Is it just the bringing up a past relationship at all that is upsetting her? Isn’t that kind of fucked up?

Some interesting directorial choices - the slow push in while Kate tends to Geoff’s cut thumb almost begins to feel claustrophobic. And this is when things are still going (mostly) well between them. As an older, childless couple, I suppose the emphasis is on their isolation and the insular bubble they’ve created around themselves. This letter cracked that bubble wide open for the first time in years.

Interesting that they’ve had no children or grandchildren, no pictures to hang on the walls, no mementos of the memories they’ve built in the last 45 years. Wife and I are not having kids ever, but our walls are covered in photos of us and our families and pets and friends - are we narcissists or are Geoff and Kate kinda weird?

There’s a sweet sequence of them dancing and then going upstairs to have sex, and I thought it was refreshing it was included at all. We so rarely see people over the age of 40 having sex in the movies or being allowed to engage in this kind of playful intimacy.

I wish we had seen more of Geoff’s behavior before the letter came so we had something better to compare his later unusual behavior to.

It just seems odd to me that she’s so upset about hearing her husband say he would have married a woman he knew literally 50 years ago, before she even ever met him. Am I in the minority here? He loved her, she was important to him, and she died, and now the circumstances around her death are forcing him to remember it. Isn’t it natural that he would be weird and moody and in mourning about it? Can you really begrudge him that? Kate takes it so personally, and I genuinely can’t wrap my head around why.

And she says she can’t tell him everything she’s thinking or that she knows, and he says he understands. I just don’t get this conflict, I really don’t. This is the problem with being a queer woman - it’s the burden of my people to talk everything to death all the time always, and I’m not saying that approach doesn’t have its problems but...it’s a way better approach than this. JUST TALK TO EACH OTHER AND THEN LISTEN TO EACH OTHER. THAT’S ALL THERE IS TO IT.

Charlotte Rampling is the element that holds all of this together, and her performance throughout the last 10 minutes is a masterclass in subtlety. I feel her pain, her regret, her confusion about the foundation she’s built the last 45 years of her life on. But WHY?? Why does it have to be like this? Why is knowing that her husband loved another woman once - and still carries that love within him - such a personal affront, a betrayal of all she holds dear? I don’t fucking get it, I really don’t.

Did I Cry? Not even a little! What the fuck! I was so ready!

When I read the description of the plot, I genuinely thought Kate was going to discover that Geoff was some sort of killer. That he killed the woman whose body was found, and she had to question the life she had built with a man she didn’t truly know. But instead, Geoff’s crime is...love? Having the capacity to love more than one person in his lifetime? Being a pretty normal human being? The slow burn tension falls apart for me when I take even one microsecond to examine the central conflict. So while the performances are quite good, it all collapses like a flan in a cupboard, and left me feeling supremely frustrated and unsatisfied.

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

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From the ground up

Alright y’all, a little switch up from the normally scheduled 10 things programming. But this is 8 pages of fluff that was requested based on the Dan + Shay song From the Ground Up.

This is also very inspired by my grandparents who knew each other for 85 years, were married for 66, had 4 children, 13 grandchildren, and currently 10 great grandchildren, so here’s also their story, but it fits with the song, so why not?

Hope you like it! ______________________

Five Years Old

The snow was falling, all the neighborhood boys were gathering in his front yard to start playing. You two had always been friends, meeting when you were three years old and in the same preschool class. You watched from your bedroom window as the boys started throwing snowballs at each other, something you loved doing with your younger brother. You put on all the winter clothing you can find, running downstairs to beg your mom to go across the street to the Jost’s house to play with the boys.

“Have fun sweetie!” your mom calls once you finally wear her down and convince her that you’ll come in as soon as she calls you in for dinner.

Running as fast as your legs can carry you, more and more children aggregating in their yard, it was an all out war between the guys and girls, snowballs flying. The girls were getting pelted, you coming in and throwing snowballs left and right at any boy who stood in your way. One by one, they surrender, until you were the last one standing. You were the almighty five year old, the winner of the snowball fight.

Someone taps you on the shoulder. You turn around to see who it is only to be met with a snowball to the face. The boys around you were laughing as Tyson stood in front of you with a smirk. You wipe the snow off, staring at him for a minute while the girls stayed silent behind you. The snow was still following, a crown of water droplets forming on around his face as the melted snow clinged to his hair. It wasn’t a crush yet, because you didn’t know what that was. But it was something.

The next thing you know, you’ve tackled him down in the snow, grabbing some off the ground and shoving it back in his face. The kids gather around the two of you, watching Tyson struggle to push you off of him, not succeeding until you hear your mom calling your name from across the street.

“Bye, Tyson!” you jump up, running back inside, leaving all the rest of the kids standing there, looking at Tyson’s wet hair, cold red face, and snow covered back while he watched you run and disappear behind your front door.

Seventeen Years Old

“What do you mean that’s when you knew?” you ask him, his laugh coming through the other end of the phone.

“Any girl who wasn’t afraid of beating up a guy who was bigger than her and actually does it well is the girl for me,” he says, referencing the snowball fight all those years ago. “You didn’t care what other guys thought of you: you got hit unfairly and I paid the consequence.”

“Well, yeah, you think I was going to let you get away with that? Also, we were the same size, you were pretty small then” you tease him. “It’s so corny that you fell in love with me when we were five years old.”

“What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic when it comes to you,” he says, “There’s no one who I would want to be with other than you. The distance thing doesn’t even seem like it’s going to be bad knowing that you’re the one I’m doing it with.”

You feel your insides flutter at his words, wishing that he was there with you now. You two had been together for as long as your moms let you date, spending every moment together that you could. He was your best friend first, your boyfriend second, your forever third. “How are you feeling about going to North Dakota in a few months?” you ask him.

He lets out a long, slightly shaky sigh, “Excited? Nervous?” he tells you, his voice going up at the end of each, “Terrified.”

“It’s a new experience, that’s natural,” you try to reassure him. “You’ve never really done this sort of thing before.”

“Aren’t you nervous about going all the way to Massachusetts?”

Part of you was, part of you wasn’t. You were scared to be away from Tyson, but part of you knew that you would always find your way back to each other, even with the distance between Chestnut Hill and Grand Forks. “About being that far away from home? No, not really.”

“What about being that far away from me?” you hear him squeak out on the other end, barely loud enough for you to really hear the pain that was in his voice.

“I’m not nervous,” you whisper, wishing you could be there with him to physically comfort him, “We’re going to be just fine.”

“How do you know?”

You take a deep breath, knowing that he was going to cry a little if he weren’t already. “We have been best friends since I beat you up that day. No matter what, you’re going to be my best friend. No matter what, I’m going to love you. I don’t care if you’re at UND and I’m at BC. You could go to Sweden and I could end up in New Zealand and I will still always love you.”

You hear him laugh a little, a sniffle followed immediately after. You didn’t need to see his face to know that his nose was red, the goofy grin of his trying to hide the fear that would surely be covering his face.

“Hey, meet me by the gazebo in thirty minutes, ok?” he finally says after what felt like forever sitting there in silence.

“Sure,” you tell him, your phone beeping as a signal that he had hung up. You had no idea what he had planned, but you did as you were told, grabbing your jacket and making your way to meet Tyson. You get there to find him pacing back and forth under the moonlight that was shining down on him. “Hey, babe,” you say, him pulling you in tight for a kiss.

Even though it was summer, the night time brought a cool breeze that sent a shiver through your body even with the jacket on. Tyson takes off his jacket, his favorite one with his name on his back, handing it to you, a smile on his face as he watched you pull it over your head. “So, what are we doing here?”

“This is going to sound crazy,” he starts, knowing that would concern you a little, “but hear me out first. You’re confident that we’ll stay together even being in North Dakota and Massachusetts, but I want to put in stone. Or, I guess, wood,” he says, gesturing to the gazebo.

“What are you talking about?”

“People carve their initials in the wood here all the time. Why don’t we do that, too?”

You smile at him, bending down next to him to watch him carve TJ + YFI/YLI enclosed in a crude heart, next to others that had looked like they had been there for years. “I wonder who all these people are?” you ask, carefully tracing your finger over one that said MR+MD. “I wonder if they’re all still together.”

“Don’t matter,” Tyson shrugs, looking at the way the moonlight dances off your skin, “We’re still together, and I have a feeling we’re going to last.”

Eighteen Years Old

Tyson had no idea you would be there. The College Hockey Showdown was that weekend at Madison Square Garden, the Boston College Eagles playing against the North Dakota Fighting Eagles. One of your roommates was from a small town in southern Connecticut, half an hour outside of the city, so you convinced her to go with you and spend the weekend down there instead of driving the four hours back to Chestnut Hill after the game.

“So, which one is he?” Julie asks as the guys skated onto the ice.

You were in the only section that led you to be surrounded by a sea of maroon and gold, feeling weirdly out of place not wearing team colors but the jacket Tyson gave you that night at the gazebo, which you ended up stealing from him, instead. “Number 17, the curly-haired one,” you point to him as he talks with one of his teammates, his helmet off, making it much easier to see his face.

Tyson had been telling you how nervous the team was about this game: Brock was injured, Trevor was two days shy of a 730 day scoring drought, and the team hadn’t beaten Boston College in 11 years. Not to mention, UND and BC were the two winningest college programs since the 06-07 season, UND having a slight edge over BC, putting that much more pressure on the guys to win this game to help make the gap a little wider. Tyson only rambled off stats about the other team when he was worried about a game against them. It was the first time you would ever be rooting against the college team you had come to love, and only because it involved the boy you love.

“Does he know you’re here?” she asks you, trying to figure out why he wasn’t looking up in the stands for you. When you shake your head no, she picks you up out of your seat, annoying the other Boston College fans while the ones behind you got a good look at the four letters scrawled across your back. “Tyson!” she starts screaming, shaking you in hopes that you would join in with her.

You roll your eyes, knowing that he would be able to hear his name being called once you joined in. You were waiting to see the look on his face when he finally realized you were at the game, so you scream along with her. He hears his name, confused as to where it’s coming from. He looks around the arena, taking what felt like forever to find you. His jaw drops when he sees you, a smile on his face as he frantically waves back at you. He nudges his teammate next to him, pointing up to you. You couldn’t tell what he was saying, but from the joy that covered his face he was excited that you would get to see him play.

The first period goes by, no scoring, not much of anything. The second period was starting, and the blank score on both sides was making you nervous. One of Tyson’s teammates passed him the puck, Tyson taking the opportunity to shoot and scoring his sixth goal of the year. The Garden went crazy, you and Julie the only two in the small section of Boston College fans joining most of the crowd, Tyson pointing right up to you when he skated to the bench. UND went on the power play, his teammate passing him the puck again. At the dot, he fired it past the BC goalie, putting his team up 2-0.

You were overjoyed by Tyson’s game, getting to see him be named first star of the game that UND won 4-3. You manage to sneak your way down to where the boys are, Tyson somehow convincing someone who worked there to let you in once you gave them your name. You saw Tyson giving an interview, the guys passing by him and patting him on the shoulders while he talked. You didn’t hear what they asked him, but you could help but admire him. “That’s part of hockey. There’s going to be momentum swings. We really had to bounce back, but that just shows our character in our team. We’re all warriors in there and I think we proved it tonight.”

The reporter leaves, Tyson turning towards him. He was sweaty, disgusting, smelly, and all of that combined wasn’t enough to stop you from running into his arms as he picked you up in his arms and kissed you for the first time since the day you left. “I can’t believe you’re here!” he practically screams when he puts you down, kissing you again.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you tell him as he goes on about how excited he was that you were there.

“I think you’re a good luck charm,” he says, leading you out of the way from some of the other guys walking around the hallway and plopping you down on the floor. “Hey, I’ve been thinking,” he starts, his voice shaking.

You knew he was nervous by the sound of his voice. You gently squeeze his hand, the smile on his face growing bigger, “Yeah?”

“When you graduate, wherever I’m playing, or even if I’m not, I wanna be living with you.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you after graduation?” you ask him, his sweaty curls moving with his head. “You think we’ll still be together in three and a half years?”

He swallows, looking down at your hands intertwined, sitting on his thigh, “I can’t imagine my life any other way. It’s written on the ground of the gazebo.”

Twenty Two Years Old

You and Tyson were going home for the wedding of one of your cousins. You had been living together for a year now in Colorado, Tyson enjoying his fourth season in the league.

“Hey, can we make a quick pit stop before we head to the reception?” Tyson asks you when you get into the car. Your cousins, Lisa and Brendan get in the back seat, Tyson being deemed the designated driver for the night. You swear you see them smile at each other before looking back at the two of you.

“Yeah, sure, is that alright with you guys?” you ask them, making eye contact through the rearview mirror. They both nod, the four of you talking about the ceremony the entire way to wherever Tyson was taking you. His hands were shaking like he was nervous.

You pull into the park that was down the street from where you grew up. “Come on,” he says, rushing around the car to open the door for you and drag you through the grounds. Lisa and Brendan follow, keeping their distance as Tyson sprinted towards the gazebo.

“We haven’t been here since that night before we left for college,” you observe, looking out over the water that surrounded part of the structure. “Do you think our initials are still here?” you ask him, turning around to find him already on the ground.

“Yeah, right here,” he says, tracing his finger over your initials. He reaches up to pull you down next to him. “Did I ever tell you that my mom's best friend carved hers and her boyfriend's initials here, too?”

“No, do you know which one’s they are?”

He points to the ones by your knees, the same ones you had admired the night Tyson carved you there, MR and MD. “Matthias and Marianne. They’re probably the happiest couple I’ve ever seen.”

You stand back up, not wanting so much of your dress to be on the ground. You look for Lisa and Brendan, who are nowhere in sight. “Hey, where did-” you start, only to be cut off but what you saw in front of you.

Tyson shifted himself to one knee, a small box in his hands with the most gorgeous ring you had ever seen. “I know it’s kind of shitty to be doing this the day of someone else's wedding, but this is the only time I knew we would be here where we first promised to be with each other forever,” he says. You can feel tears welling up in your eyes, suddenly thankful that you had brought makeup with you in your bag for touch ups. “You told me that night that no matter where in the world we were, we would always be together. I want to be together forever. I want to grow old with you, have a family with you, be the father to your children that I never got and be the man your dad always wanted you to end up with. I want to hold you close, protect you, love you. I want to be your husband. Y/N, will you marry me?” he asks, the tears falling down your face.

You shake your head yes, unable to let out more than a happy sob as he slips the ring on your finger, finally hearing Lisa and Brendan screaming as you take Tysons face in your hands and kiss him.

Twenty Four Years Old

You stood in the pink room, trying to rock your little girl to sleep. Tyson should be home at any minute from the road trip, but Viviana had been fussy the entire day. All you wanted was for her to go to sleep so you could go to sleep.

“I’m home,” you hear Tyson call from the doorway of your house, praying that he doesn’t come in yelling while you cradle your ten-month-old daughter in your arms. He appears in the doorway to her room, dropping his bag and tip-toeing up to you. He rubs your arms, kissing you on the cheek before pulling you close to him. He rests his chin on your shoulder, looking down at Viviana. “Can you believe how big she’s gotten?” he whispers to you as she finally nods off to sleep.

You lay her down in her crib, Tyson standing back and admiring how gentle you were with her. He hugs you from behind again, the two of you taking a moment to just look at your daughter. You lead him out of the room, closing her door carefully. “She is so beautiful,” you gush about your daughter even though she was the reason you were perpetually exhuasted.

Tyson hugs you, finally getting the chance to kiss you hello. “She takes after you. The room, though, is very pink.” You can’t help but laugh at the same observation he makes whenever he goes into her room. As soon as you found out you were having a girl, Tyson went overboard, buying every dress he could, little bows, cute socks, anything that looked like it was made for a girl, regardless of color or if it actually conformed to the gender construct, he bought, or convinced his teammates to buy for him so you couldn’t get mad at him for coming home with yet another Avalanche related baby item.

“I was nine months pregnant when you painted that, you know it’s your fault.” The two of you go to your own bedroom, you ready to crawl in bed even though it was the middle of the afternoon. “If she wakes up, can you take care of her?” you ask him, climbing under the sheets.

“Yeah, but before you go to sleep, I think we need to talk.” You look at him, knowing that sentence typically comes with bad news, but Tyson’s face said otherwise. “I know Viviana isn’t even a year old yet, and I know we said we would wait until she was, but I think I’m ready to try for another kid now,” he says, “Only if you are, too, of course.”

You look away from him, a picture of you and him looking down at Viviana right after she was born sitting in the frame on your bedside table. You knew Tyson wanted a big family, you wanted one with him. It was an easy decision: “Can we wait until after I get some sleep?”

The smile on his face grows, excited that you were going to be trying for a bigger family. He plants a soft, sweet kiss on your head as you gently fall to sleep.

Thirty Four Years Old

“Viviana Abigale, come down here!” you call to the birthday girl as your friends and family started showing up at your house. “Tyson, I think Cale and Gabe are here,” you say to your husband, hearing voices of his teammates carrying through your house indicating that Tyson had left the front door open for anyone to just walk in.

You hear your kids running through the house, three sets of feet pounding against the floor as everyone started to show up with gifts and more food.

It was Vivi’s tenth birthday, and Tyson insisted that you have a party to celebrate your oldest child turning double-digits. Part of you thought he just wanted to show off the house now that it was finally put back together after you had it redone, but he did more of the work in preparing. You were worried that would mean having a similar party with Alexander turned ten in two years, or when Jimmy did in four. Anything to have a party to celebrate your family, Tyson was the first to suggest you make it happen.

Soon, your house and yard were filled with everyone you loved, laughing, eating, the kids playing. You watched as Alexander chased Jimmy with one of the hockey sticks Tyson’s mom had kept from when he was little. Tyson must have seen the anxious look on your face, “Don’t worry, he won’t do anything. Alexander is harmless.” You both laugh as he hands you a glass of wine, you swirling around in the glass instead of taking a sip.

“Want to go inside?” you ask him, taking his hand. You set the class down on the counter, Tyson showing a look of confusion by the untouched glass. You lead him to the wall underneath the stairs, looking at all the pictures that were there. The latest school pictures of your three children, a picture of you and Tyson on your wedding day, a picture of the two of you that your mom took when you went to the school dance together when you were in your first year of high school. “God, do you remember that night?”

“I only remember what I was wearing because of that picture and that I wanted to dance only with you,” he says, wrapping his arms around you.

“You were fourteen, there’s no way that’s what you were thinking of,” you tease him. “You danced with me once that night and spent the rest of the night leaning against the wall with the rest of the boys.”

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of you!” he argues back, his face turning red with the embarrassment he didn’t want.

You laugh, giving him a quick kiss, “I beat you up when we were five. Nothing you could do in front of me could be more embarrassing than that.”

The two of you stand there for a little while longer, staring at the pictures that were on the wall of your family. “Hey, Tys?”

“Yeah?”

“When we first got married, how many kids did you think we would have?”

He stops and thinks, knowing that he never explicitly told you, letting you decide how many you ultimately had. “I always wanted four.”

“Are you mad that we only have three?”

He looks at you. “Mad? Of course not.” How could he be mad that you gave him the three most beautiful children he could have asked for. They looked more like you than they did like him, but they definitely had his childish antics down to a t.

“Would you be mad if we had a fourth?”

“Again, of course not,” he says, confused by what you were trying to say. You smile at him, it finally clicking. “You’re-?” he starts, unable to figure out how to express his joy with words. You nod, him pulling you in for a tight hug. “Holy shit!” he screams, “Holy shit, are you serious?”

“There are children, Tys!” you say, laughing as you cover his mouth.

“We’re having another kid,” he says, his eyes lighting up.

“We’re having another kid.”

Fifty One Years Old

“Lucas!” you call to your youngest son, knowing he was the only other person in the house with you. You were trying to make dinner, one of Tyson’s favorite meals for his birthday.

“Yeah, Mom?” your sixteen year old says, not looking up from his phone as he walks into the kitchen.

Your hands were covered with raw meat, mixing everything up to prepare the stuffed burgers. “Can you run to the store and get me another onion?”

Lucas groans, in a typical teenage fashion. “Dad is already at the store getting you basil, can’t you just call him to get it?”

“No, because this is his phone,” you tell him, hitting the screen with your elbow so it doesn’t lock on you since that’s where the recipe is. “And it was parsley. The keys are by the door, there’s cash in my wallet, and yes I expect the receipt and know how much I had to start with,” you say to him.

He rolls his eyes at you, leaving for the store anyway. Lucas drives to the store, muttering to himself that you would send him out when Dad was already there. He laughs as he pulls in next to Dad’s car, knowing that he was bound to run into him while he was there. He wanders through the store, not looking for the onion in the slightest in hopes to find his father and tell him to get it so he can get home and go back to the game he was on with his friends.

Lucas finds Tyson in the spice aisle, standing there with two small bottles in his hands, one parsley, one basil. “She wanted parsley,” he says, startling his dad.

“I couldn’t remember what she said, so thank god you came,” he says, putting the basil back. “What did she send you to get?”

“An onion.” The two of them walk through the store, back to the produce that Lucas had already passed in hopes of getting out of there faster. “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah, bud?” he asks, examining the pile of onions as he tried to figure out which one would be the one his wife would pick.

“Mom has already sent you here four times this week, and now me twice. Why do you put up with it?” he asks, clearly annoyed.

Tyson laughs, picking up one of the onions and heading to check out. “I would do anything for her, no matter how ridiculous or how many times she asks me to do it.” He looks at his youngest son, the only one who looked more like him than you, “One day, hopefully, you’re going to find someone who you love more than anything on this Earth, and you would do anything in the world to make sure that they stay happy. This is part of what keeps your mother happy, so how could I not do it?”

Eighty Eight Years Old

You look around from the head table, Tyson’s hand in yours as your entire family has overtaken the restaurant. Viviana and her husband had picked you up at your house, telling you that she was taking out to her home for an anniversary dinner. You were instead taken to your favorite restaurant, greeted but your children, your grandchildren, your brother and his family, Kacey and her family, everyone you cared about.

You sit there, listening to your children and some of your grandchildren talk about what it means to be in love. “Dad would drop everything if Mom asked him to do something. There was nothing too ridiculous that she could ask of him.”

“Growing up, it was the stolen looks, Dad looking at Mom with love filling his eyes and her not noticing, or Mom doing the same to Dad, neither of them ever looking at the same time.”

“Look around at everyone here: love between two people creates love between more. We wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you.”

Sixty five years.

Four children.

Thirteen grandchildren.

Currently five great grandchildren, two more on the way in a few months.

The perfect life, the perfect husband.

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #avalanche #avalanche imagine #nh #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine

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aroaessidhe · 2 years

Photo

Character descriptions from Extasia by Claire Legrand, for fanart.

Contains spoilers. link to full database in pinned post!

author pinterest

Amity Rage

my long white dress with tiny blue flowers, my brown wool cloak, my boots

thin, dark-haired

Into the tender skin above my breasts he carves the mark of Saint Amity. Two hooked lines, joined by a small triangle. The letter m

My plain work dress has disappeared, and now I wear a gown as white as the long winter, softer than anything I have touched in my life. The ribboned bodice hugs my torso, and the long lace skirts circle around me like clouds.

He holds my hood in his hands. Cloth dyed red, ties hanging limp from his fingers like a skinned creature.

ribboned yellow dress embroidered with blue flowers

Blessing Hunger

honey coloured hair

Hunger in her deep blue gown

Father

Long legs and long arms and a broad bright smile, sharp dark features like my own.

Patience Barrow

She wears a pale yellow dress with a white collar, her skirts spilled around her legs. She twists a lock of my brown hair around her fingers. I watch her face, trace its soft lines. She showed us how to weave crowns of flowers, and now one sits crooked on her head, blue and white and pink all mashed against our blanket.

beneath the tallest one stands a woman in a fine gray gown, a cloak of wolf skin slung around her thin shoulders. She is pale, as I am, with my sister’s blue eyes and golden hair. Avazel has given me the gift of turning her ghostly face whole, her arms smooth and fair.

Samuel

A smile on his tanned face, even after all he has lost. His winter pallor has already faded. He works hard in the fields. He hunts and runs. The wind tousles his thick dark hair.

his chin is narrow and sharp

Temperance

On Temperance’s right shoulder perches a fright-bird, a Devil’s creature, all the feathers gone from its head. In their place, a single white eye and gleaming scales. Beneath her dark hood,

So different she looks, wearing a gown blue as jay feathers. The sleeves are long and loose and slip from her bare white shoulders. Her dark hair is soft with a silver sheen

Mercy Vengeance

long red hair to her waist, sharp nose, sharp eyes, freckled skin. Beneath their cloaks, they wear the long white dresses saints wear on holy days, with high lace collars and ribbons at their wrists

her dress as deep a green as summer leaves dipped in shadow. She watches me with sharp eyes. Tiny braids hide in the red cascade of her hair,

green dress

Silence Sorrow

Her hair shines white in the faint moonlight.

The scarred mark of Saint Silence pokes up from her collar—four little marks, like stitches, crossing a proud straight line

long fair hair and red hood

one year older than rage

has woven a few thin braids into her hair. Sorrow wraps one of them around her finger until the end softens and curls

Sorrow solemn and pale as snow, wearing a long black dress with loose flowing sleeves.

Malice

She wears a fine low-collared gown the color of blood. Roses bloom on her cheeks, and though the set of her mouth is hard, her eyes shine bright as a spring sky. She could be as young as I or as old as Granny Dale, whose house crawls with grandchildren. Her hair is black as the mud that gathers beneath my fingernails when I work in the garden, her skin pale as the white moon I know.

her blue eyes ablaze beneath her messy cap of short black hair (it is cut short in the book)

Furor

She points to another woman farther back in the trees. Furor is fair and slight with copper hair to her waist. Flowering vines adorn her sky-blue gown. She molds from the dirt a black wolf pup with shining white eyes and a bright pink tongue.

Furor, vines of red flowers trailing from her hair, holds two crooked knives as long as her forearms

Cunning

a woman with deep brown skin and shorn black hair stands beside another white tree not far from us, her eyes closed and a strange song moving across her lips. Some words I know—berry, sky, flesh—but others I do not. She spreads her arms wide and rises slowly off the dark moss-covered ground, her bare feet pointed and her gown of sunset colors—orange and red and violet—floating in the air around her. In her right hand, she holds a white branch sanded smooth. When she opens her eyes, they are full white too, like my fright-birds’

her body draped in a gown of sunset colors, orange and red and violet.

Ire

a woman, white of skin and hair and eyes, wearing green trousers and a long white tunic hemmed in gold. She stands on a felled tree. Her words are part song and part prayer.

As she sing-speaks, bits of darkness peel away from the black sky and flutter down, forming themselves, until they alight upon her head and arms. Soon Ire wears a cloak of crows, their dark feathers all agleam.

green trousers and a gold-hemmed tunic, a great white-eyed crow on her shoulder

Gall

a pale woman with a light dusting of short black hair, shorter than a man’s. Her gown is sage green and leaves her shoulders bare

Storm

Her ruddy skin is striped with scars. One of her arms, I am shocked to see, is made of metal. Metal joints, metal fingers, as if a blacksmith has forged it for her. It moves as smoothly as my own and is polished to a gleam. I look at the fierce blue light in the woman’s eyes, her wild nest of gray hair.

wrinkled face

Liberty

brown skin and shining black hair tied back with a meadow-green ribbon. Around her are roots and mushrooms, long jagged leaves that glisten with oil. She crushes, tears, mixes, then raises her arm without looking up and murmurs one of those strange chants—part song, part plain speaking.

Jamie

A girl enters the room, closes the door quickly behind her, then turns to look at me. She has smooth skin, a dark brown like Cunning’s, and long black hair kept in many neat braids.

Jamie’s mother

her skin is just the same brown. The same dark eyes, the same black braids. She wears a long pale shirt to her knees, gray trousers, dark boots.

dress is a million shades of blue—royal and peacock, periwinkle and cerulean. Sleeveless with a high collar. Form-fitting bodice, skirts falling around my legs like waterfalls. It’s exactly the kind of dress I’m always drawn to when I browse the archives for old fashion editorials.

gray women etc

Above me towers a woman, silent and gray, thin and bent, five heads taller than any man I have seen. Her long arms trail to the ground, as if they have sprouted from it. The rest of her drifts formless in the air, disappearing into the night. Wild dark hair to her waist, wide toothless mouth hanging open, and though she has no eyes—that gaping mouth is the only thing I can see on what might be her face—I know she is watching me, waiting for me to speak.

Her mouth opens wider, a vast hole, and out of it drift a few buzzing black flies. Deep inside her throat shines a curve of silver, and though I know it is foolish, I cannot help but lean closer. What is that thing?

I hold still and look upon her face, once smooth and now cracking, now peeling away in thin shreds, her mouth widening, her skin stretching around it, and I will remember this, I will always remember this, I will hold it in my heart and mind forever. Then, suddenly, my mother cries out and staggers back from me. She groans, a wordless throaty cry, and looks away, hiding her face. Flesh falls from her body like shredded leaves. Flies buzz out from between her fingers. I know I should not, but I hurry toward her all the same, crying

#extasia #claire legrand #char desc database

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thelastspeecher · 3 years

Text

The Six Senses - Chapter 4: Ugly Things in the Darkness

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 AO3

It’s been three years since I posted Chapter 3 of this fic. And now, I’m finally finishing it! I had a lot of ideas and plans to do more than just four chapters, but inspiration is a fickle mistress, and I ran up against basically a wall. Not to mention, while I was working on this last chapter, my Word doc kept freezing, so I think the Universe is trying to tell me to end the fic here.

Enjoy.

---

Summary: The assault on the company.

Ugly things in the darkness Worse things in store In the declining years Of the long war - The Mountain Goats, “In the Craters on the Moon”

——————————————————————————————

Shermie’s van came to a stop outside a small, cozy cabin. Stan, Ford, Fiddleford, and Shermie got out. Ford eyed the cabin.

“Really? This is where the kid lives?” he asked.

“I think it looks lovely,” Shermie said. “Small, but homey.”

“It’s the size that’s throwing Ford for a loop,” Stan explained, leaning against the van. “The place is barely big enough for Dan’s voice.” Shermie frowned. “You’ll see. Let’s head inside.” The four headed for the cabin. Just as Stan raised a hand to knock, the door opened, revealing Wendy. Wendy beamed up at Stan.

“Uncle Stan!” she chirped. Stan scooped her into his arms with a playful growl.

“Hey there, little gremlin,” he cooed. Wendy giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. “Where are your parents?”

“Mama’s in bed.”

“And your dad?”

“Right here,” a voice rumbled from behind the men. The men turned. Dan Corduroy stood there, apparently just done with his work, judging by the dirty axe hefted over one shoulder. “And ANGEL is STAYING in bed. GOT IT?”

“Angel?” Shermie asked. Dan scowled.

“My WIFE.”

“Ah. Yes. Is that- is that her name?” Shermie asked, clearly trying to be polite. Dan’s scowl deepened.

“It’s her NICKNAME. Ever HEARD of one?”

“Ah. Okay.”

“Good to see ya again, Dan,” Fiddleford said, holding out a hand. Dan shook the offered hand. Shermie goggled at how Fiddleford’s hand was dwarfed by Dan’s. “How’s m’ sister doin’?”

“All right, but NOT involved with THIS,” Dan said firmly. “Doc says she CAN’T have more STRESS. She’s staying OUT of this.”

“Understood,” Ford said with a nod. Dan sighed heavily.

“But I can’t stay out of it,” he said somberly. Stan raised an eyebrow.

He doesn’t use his inside voice very often. He’s serious about this.

Yeah, no shit, Ford said tartly. Stan glared at him.

Get outta my head, Sixer. Ford rolled his eyes.

Fine.

“What do you mean, Dan?” Stan asked. Dan sighed again.

“These people…they’ve gone after my wife. They’ll go after my daughter, too. I can’t let them.” He met Stan’s eyes squarely. “Whether you like it or not, I’m coming with.”

“We’ll be glad to have your help,” Ford said. He looked at Stan. “Stan?”

“Yeah, with Dan as backup, our odds are even better,” Stan confirmed.

“Why do you think the company will go after your daughter?” Shermie asked. Dan looked at Wendy, still in Stan’s arms.

“Show ‘em, SWEETIE.” Wendy nodded. She closed her eyes. Stan began to float off the ground. He hovered for a few seconds before slamming back down onto his heels. “Started happening LAST WEEK. ANGEL says that’s how SHE started.” Dan gripped his axe so tightly his knuckles turned white underneath his ginger hair. “They WON’T do to Wendy what THEY did to my WIFE.”

“No, they won’t,” Stan said firmly. Dan looked at him.

“Do you…KNOW?” he asked. Stan reached for the information. After a moment, he nodded.

“Wendy’s safe.” Dan’s shoulders slumped in relief. “But only if we rescue Shermie’s grandkids.” Dan grinned viciously.

“Sounds GOOD to ME. My AXE gets sick of TREES sometimes.” Shermie, Fiddleford, and Ford blanched. Stan, however, set Wendy on the ground.

“Hey, kid, did you hear what your husband just said?” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Yes, I certainly did!” the kid shouted from inside the house. “And I’m not happy he made that sorta joke in front of people who don’t know his sense of humor!” Stan smirked at Dan. “You better all come inside so I can catch up with my family and scold my dear spouse!” Stan ruffled Wendy’s hair.

“Go get your mama, sweetie.” Wendy bolted inside. Stan looked at Ford. “Let’s go see our little sister.” Ford smiled.

“But of course.”

-----

Dan’s pickup truck came to a stop inside a wooded clearing a little under a mile from the company’s headquarters. Stan practically fell out of the car in his haste to be away from Dan’s distinctive body odor.

“Do you ever shower?” Stan choked out. Dan got out of the truck, scowling.

“ANGEL likes it.”

“Yeah, I don’t understand her sometimes,” Stan muttered. Ford and Fiddleford got out as well. “So, we all understand the plan?” The other three men nodded.

“We should go over it quickly, though,” Ford said. “We will break in by stealing some of the uniforms worn by the workers. While Fiddleford causes a distraction, Stan and I use the map to track down Mabel and Mason. Fiddleford leaves after causing his distraction, Stan and I leave after rescuing the infants, and we all meet up here with Dan.” Everyone nodded.

“If you NEED me, you can…” Dan grimaced. “You can get INSIDE my HEAD, Stanford.”

“Really?” Ford asked. Dan nodded.

“I might HATE it, but it’s the EASIEST and FASTEST way to contact ME. Can’t waste TIME with these PATHETIC worms.”

“Usually I use more four-letter words to talk about the people who work for the company, but ‘pathetic worms’ isn’t bad,” Stan remarked. Dan grinned.

“I just HOPE your CITY-SLICKER BROTHER takes care of my WIFE.”

“Shermie will take great care of the kid and Wendy,” Ford said smoothly. Dan nodded. Stan took a steadying breath.

“We better go soon.”

“Do our odds get worse if we wait?” Ford asked.

“Yeah.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“‘Cause I’m gonna lose my nerve if I have to think about it much longer.”

-----

One strong mental blast from Ford was enough to knock out the three guards by the back door.

“You’ve gotten better at that,” Stan remarked as he removed the guards’ uniforms.

“I’ve been practicing,” Ford replied. Stan handed him a uniform. “You’re physically much stronger than I am. I have to be able to protect myself somehow.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. It’s just a bit surprising to see three men drop when all you did was look at them.” Stan tossed a uniform to Fiddleford. “Get dressed. We’ve gotta move fast.” Fiddleford nodded. The three men pulled on the uniforms. To Stan’s relief, the uniform included a full-face mask. Stan opened the door. “All right, Fiddlenerd, go make us a distraction.” Fiddleford nodded and ducked inside.

Stan and Ford waited a few minutes, then entered as well. The moment they stepped into the building, Stan swore softly.

“They’ve got dampeners up.”

“We don’t need our ESP for this, though,” Ford said.

“If everything goes right, we don’t,” Stan corrected. “But that’s not what I’m worried about. Mabel and Mason are babies. The company’s already got power dampeners up for them, at this age? Even the kid didn’t get dampeners until she was a toddler.” Ford stilled. Stan couldn’t see Ford’s expression, but knew the blood had to be draining from his twin’s face.

“Shermie’s grandchildren must be something special, to warrant such protection.”

“Yeah.” Stan shook his head. “We can’t think about that right now. We’ve gotta focus on getting the kids outta here.”

“Absolutely.” Ford pulled out the map. He inspected it closely. “I know which way to go.”

“Well, age before beauty,” Stan said, gesturing for Ford to lead the way. Ford huffed slightly, but began to walk.

The company’s facility was different than Stan remembered. He wasn’t sure whether it was because they had decided to switch up the design after relocating, or because he hadn’t seen it much when he was in the facility, since he had spent so much time locked in blindingly white rooms.

Clearly, they haven’t changed their favorite color. The tile floor, walls, and even chairs and tables they passed were all white. Would it kill them to have one piece of furniture that doesn’t look like it was bleached? In the sea of white, a bright yellow plaque on the wall caught Stan’s attention. He came to a stop in front of it. Luckily, Ford noticed before he had walked very far.

“Stan, we have to move,” Ford hissed, backtracking to where Stan stood. Stan gestured at the plaque.

“Apparently, this place has an actual name,” Stan said quietly. The plaque proudly listed the names of donors that paid to construct the new headquarters of the Cipher Paranormal Studies Corporation.

“I’m not surprised,” Ford whispered.

“We were never told the name. That’s a dick move.”

“Stan.”

“You’re right, this is the least dickish thing they’ve done. But I still feel like we shoulda been told the name of the place we grew up in.”

“Stan, we need to move fast. We don’t want Fiddleford’s distraction to go to waste,” Ford insisted. Stan nodded. He followed Ford away from the plaque, but glanced back at it briefly, a strange feeling in his chest. Almost like his dampened clairvoyance was trying to tell him something.

-----

“Here,” Ford whispered, coming to a stop in front of a closed door. A sign on the door read “Subject Incubators”.

“Damn, that’s a creepy way to say nursery,” Stan muttered. He pushed open the door. Like everywhere else in the facility, the room was bright white. The furniture was the same color, including two cribs tucked against the back wall. “There!” The brothers rushed over to the cribs. Stan’s heart sunk. Only one crib had a child in it.

“This must be Mabel,” Ford said, gently lifting the baby and nestling her in his arms. Mabel giggled loudly.

“But where’s-” Stan started. The door opened behind them. They spun around. Two employees stood in the doorway, one carrying an infant.

“Who are you?!” one of the employees snapped. In lieu of a response, Stan bolted across the room, tackling the employee who wasn’t carrying a baby before they could raise the alarm. He kicked the door shut. A jolt of pain accompanied the movement, making him gasp.

Fucking hell. My age is catching up to me. The employee he’d tackled quickly recovered, shoving Stan off.

“They said nanny duty was easy,” the employee spat.

“Well, whoever told you that was lying,” Stan retorted, grabbing the front of the nanny’s uniform and pulling them in. He then grabbed the nightstick attached to his hip as part of the uniform and whacked the nanny over the head with it. The nanny dropped to the floor, unconscious. Stan got to his feet, prepared to attack the second nanny. Instead, he saw Ford holding both babies and standing over the second nanny’s unconscious body. “Huh.”

“Please take one of the infants,” Ford said, panting. Stan took Mason from him. “Thank you.”

“Good work, Ford.”

“Save the praise for after we’ve left the building,” Ford said.

“Fair enough.” Stan opened the door. He caught sight of movement at the far end of the hall. “Shit, more nannies are headed this way. We gotta go.” Stan and Ford sprinted out of the room, running until they had left the nursery far behind. They came to a stop, breathing hard. “Okay.” Stan gently cradled Mason in his arms, muscle memory from Wendy kicking in. “We got the babies. We got away from those evil nannies. Now what?”

“You’re the clairvoyant,” Ford snapped, holding Mabel close to his chest.

“I can’t really do the clairvoyance thing if they’ve got power dampeners going,” Stan snapped back.

“Fine, fine.” Ford looked around. “Should we go the way we came?”

“Wh- you’re the one with the map!”

“…I dropped it,” Ford mumbled.

“You dropped it?!”

“It was either the map or Mabel. I chose to drop a piece of paper over our infant relative,” Ford said snidely. Stan rolled his eyes. “You helped to draw the map. Do you remember anything from it?”

“Not really, no.” Stan looked up and down the hall, yearning for the familiar sense of churning in his guts to guide him. “Maybe…that way?” He turned left, going up the hall. Ford followed. “If the power dampeners weren’t up, this’d be a piece of cake.”

“We might rely upon our powers too much,” Ford said quietly.

“You might be right about…that…” Stan trailed off. They had reached a dead end. A single, open door was in front of them. Through that door, something was glowing.

“What is that?” Ford asked. He walked into the room.

“Stanford, we’ve gotta get these kids outta here! We can’t waste time trying to figure out whatever bullshit the company is doing now!” Stan hissed.

“Oh, my god,” Ford whispered. Stifling a groan, Stan entered the room. His jaw dropped. The room was massive.

Well, it’s gotta be, to have room for…that. There was an enormous structure in the middle of the room, an upside-down metal triangle. A circle was cut out of the center of the triangle, bordered by strange symbols. Two metal circular platforms stood in front of the triangle. An identical pair stuck to the ceiling like stalactites. The platforms glowed a faint blue, as did lines of lights along the edges of the triangle.

“What is that?” Stan asked.

“My ride out of here,” a voice boomed. The door slammed shut. Stan and Ford spun around. They were still alone. “And you boys, as well as the other members of your deliciously powerful family, are my ticket.”

“Okay, first, it’s gross as hell to call babies ‘delicious’,” Stan said. “Second, who the fuck are you?”

“I’ve had many names,” the voice said vaguely. Ford elbowed Stan. When Stan looked, Ford pointed at a loudspeaker on the wall, from which the voice was coming. Stan nodded. “But the one you’ll recognize is Cipher.” Stan’s blood ran cold.

Cipher. Cipher Corp. The company’s real name.

“Cipher,” Ford said.

“That’s right!” Cipher said cheerfully.

“Are you the boss of this whole fucked up shindig?” Stan asked.

“Obviously,” Cipher scoffed. “I have to admit, it was a delight to watch you grow up.” The ice in Stan’s veins was promptly replaced with fury.

“You stole us from our family!” he snarled. Cipher sighed.

“I took you in,” he said, sounding disappointed in Stan. “Your parents didn’t want you. They didn’t want either of you.”

“You-” Stan started. Ford put a hand on his shoulder.

“Cipher, what do you want with us?” he asked.

“I already told you. You’re part of my triumphant return home. You, your twin, those darling children you’re holding, and even that young lady you think of as your sister are part of this.” Stan heard a hitch in Ford’s breath.

“Leave the kid alone,” he snapped. “She’s been through enough!”

“I’m not sure that she has,” Cipher said. Stan opened his mouth to shoot a retort, but before he could, there was a loud explosion. Ford stumbled back a few steps, nearly falling. The loudspeaker crackled. Stan knew what had happened. He knew.

“Cipher’s gone,” Stan said confidently. Ford looked at him. “He probably went to find out what happened to knock out the power dampeners. Now, let’s get the hell outta here before he comes back.”

“We don’t have the map.”

“We don’t need one now.” Stan furrowed his brow, focusing as hard as possible on what route they should take to get out. “The shortest route has a bunch of guards. Looks like you’ll get plenty of chances to practice that telepathic attack of yours.”

“At this point, I’ll take anything over more physical exertion,” Ford muttered. “Lead the way.”

-----

Exhausted and sweaty, but still alive, Stan and Ford finally arrived at the clearing Dan was waiting in. Fiddleford was already there, pacing back and forth anxiously.

“We’re here,” Stan croaked, removing his mask. Ford removed his as well. Fiddleford and Dan’s heads shot up.

“Oh, thank the Lord,” Fiddleford said, resting a hand over his heart. “I was startin’ to get mighty worried. Did the distraction help ya or was it too late?”

“It was perfectly timed,” Ford said. He and Stan walked over to the truck. Fiddleford sighed in relief.

“Good. I had some issues tryin’ to decide how to set up the distraction.”

“It worked out great,” Stan said. Fiddleford grimaced.

“Not really.”

“What do you mean?”

“He DROPPED the doohickey he made with my WIFE’S magic,” Dan rumbled. Fiddleford glared at Dan.

“I told ya, that ain’t how the lil tie I made works!” He looked back at Stan and Ford. “But…yes, I did drop it in the chaos. Ya don’t think that’ll be a problem later on, will it?”

“Of course it’s gonna be a fucking problem!” Stan burst out. “You just handed over the kid’s powers to the company!” Fiddleford quailed. Ford put a hand on Stan’s shoulder.

“Stanley. It’s okay. That’s something we can deal with at a later point. Right now, we need to be glad that everyone got out unharmed.”

“Yes, how are the lil ones?” Fiddleford asked.

“Surprisingly quiet,” Ford said. Mason abruptly began to fuss in Stan’s arms. “Never mind.”

“They had power dampeners on for these little gremlins,” Stan said quietly. Fiddleford cocked his head.

“Well, ain’t that just their policy?”

“Not for babies. They put in the power dampeners when they decide that someone’s ESP is getting strong enough to cause problems,” Stan explained. “Your sister only got power dampeners when she was a toddler, and you know how powerful she is.”

“So these lil sweeties ‘re goin’ to have some strong ESP,” Fiddleford remarked, peering at Mason and Mabel.

“That would be the logical conclusion, yes,” Ford said. Fiddleford grimaced. “We can finish this conversation at Dan’s place, I think.”

“Yeah,” Stan said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the company decided to start combing the woods looking for us.” He felt a nudge at the back of his mind and let the knowledge wash over him. “Yep. They’re already coming. Let’s get outta here.” Dan got into the truck.

“Took the WORDS out of my MOUTH.”

-----

Shermie and Wendy cooed over Mason and Mabel, who were buckled into carriers, ready to be brought home to California.

“They’re so little!” Wendy gushed. Shermie smiled at her.

“Yes, dear, they’re newborns. When your younger brother is born, he’ll be as small as them.” Wendy’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“Whoa,” she whispered. Shermie chuckled.

“Hey, uh, Sherm, can we talk to you in private?” Stan asked.

“Sure,” Shermie said. “Fiddleford, Dan, mind keeping an eye on the babies?”

“No problem,” Fiddleford chirped. Dan nodded. Shermie followed Stan and Ford outside.

“What’s going on?” Shermie asked. Stan crossed his arms. He looked at Ford, waiting for him to start the conversation. Ford sighed.

“The company already installed and turned on power dampeners for Mason and Mabel,” he said. “Power dampeners are expensive to maintain, so they’re only turned on when necessary. The fact that they’d already turned them on with Mason and Mabel being so young…” Shermie paled.

“They’re going to be particularly powerful, aren’t they?” he whispered. Stan and Ford nodded. “Oh, no.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I’ll- I’ll have to warn my son and daughter-in-law. But even with the warning, I don’t know how well they’ll be able to handle it.”

“I’m going to go to California,” Stan said. Shermie stared at him. “Ford and I realized that one of us should stick near you and the kids, to keep an eye on them, and we decided that I would. I don’t really have much of an attachment to any particular place. Not to mention, I can see danger coming from a mile away.”

“Stan, that would be fantastic,” Shermie said, audibly relieved. Stan shrugged.

“It’s important to look out for family.” He smiled. “Even if you’ve only just met them.” Shermie smiled back.

“Still. Thank you.” He glanced back at the cabin. “What about Wendy and her mother? They could probably use some protection. I know that Dan is rather formidable, but…”

“I’ll be staying in Gravity Falls,” Ford interjected. “Stan and I saw something in the company’s facility that concerned us, so I won’t just be staying to keep an eye on Wendy and the kid, but also to find out what I can about what we saw.”

“What did you see?” Shermie whispered. Ford shook his head.

“I honestly don’t know. But it can’t be good.”

“If I get any bad vibes or if Ford or the kid give me a call, I’ll head up to help out,” Stan said. He grinned at Ford. “But Ford proved he can hold his own today, so I think I can leave him here without too many problems.” The door to the cabin opened. Wendy sprinted out. She tugged on Shermie’s pant leg. Shermie looked down at her.

“Yes, dear?” he asked.

“Mr. Shermie, the babies laughed!” she enthused. Shermie’s eyes widened.

“Well, that sounds like something I should be there for!” He looked at Stan and Ford. “Are you going to come inside as well?”

“In a moment,” Ford said. “Stan and I need to have a quick conversation.” Stan nodded.

“All right,” Shermie said mildly. He took Wendy’s hand and went inside with her. Stan and Ford looked at each other.

“Do you really feel comfortable being on your own in California with Shermie, Mason, and Mabel?” Ford asked quietly.

“I’ll figure it out. I don’t foresee any big problems,” Stan said. Ford sighed.

“Still.”

“What about you?” Stan asked. “Are you sure you can handle the kid and Wendy and the company?” He scowled. “Or, I guess, the Cipher Corporation?”

“I’ll be fine. Like you said, the second there’s any issues, I’ll contact you for help,” Ford said smoothly. Stan felt a nudge at the back of his mind. When the information came, it made him raise an eyebrow in surprise. “What?”

“This town has more secrets than just the company. You better be careful.”

“I will,” Ford promised. Stan snorted. He turned around to head back inside.

“Ford, I don’t need clairvoyance to know that you just lied through your teeth.”

#Gravity Falls #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Sherman Pines #Fiddleford McGucket #Manly Dan Corduroy #Mrs. Corduroy #Wendy Corduroy #Gravity Falls AU #ESPines AU #The Six Senses #fanfiction #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 years

Link

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

July 23, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

On July 20, 1969, American astronauts Neil Armstrong and Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin became the first humans ever to land, and then to walk, on the moon.

They were part of the Apollo program, designed to put an American man on the moon. Their spacecraft launched on July 16 and landed back on Earth in the Pacific Ocean July 24, giving them eight days in space, three of them orbiting the moon 30 times. Armstrong and Aldrin spent almost 22 hours on the moon’s surface, where they collected soil and rock samples and set up scientific equipment, while the pilot of the command module, Michael Collins, kept the module on course above them.

The American space program that created the Apollo 11 spaceflight grew out of the Cold War. The year after the Soviet Union launched an artificial satellite in 1957, Congress created the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) to demonstrate American superiority by sending a man into space. In 1961, President John F. Kennedy moved the goalposts, challenging the country to put a man on the moon and bring him safely back to earth again. He told Congress: “No single space project in this period will be more impressive to mankind, or more important for the long-range exploration of space; and none will be so difficult or expensive to accomplish.”

A year later, in a famous speech at Rice University in Texas, Kennedy tied space exploration to America’s traditional willingness to attempt great things. “Those who came before us made certain that this country rode the first waves of the industrial revolutions, the first waves of modern invention, and the first wave of nuclear power, and this generation does not intend to founder in the backwash of the coming age of space. We mean to be a part of it—we mean to lead it,” he said.

[T]here is new knowledge to be gained, and new rights to be won, and they must be won and used for the progress of all people…. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills….”

But the benefits to the country would not only be psychological, he said. “The growth of our science and education will be enriched by new knowledge of our universe and environment, by new techniques of learning and mapping and observation, by new tools and computers for industry, medicine, the home as well as the school.” The effort would create “a great number of new companies, and tens of thousands of new jobs…new demands in investment and skilled personnel,” as the government invested billions in it.

“To be sure, all this costs us all a good deal of money…. I realize that this is in some measure an act of faith and vision, for we do not now know what benefits await us.”

Seven years later, people across the country gathered around television sets to watch Armstrong step onto the moon and to hear his famous words: “That's one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind.”

President Richard Nixon called the astronauts from the White House: “I just can't tell you how proud we all are of what you have done,” he said. “For every American, this has to be the proudest day of our lives…. Because of what you have done, the heavens have become a part of man's world…. For one priceless moment in the whole history of man, all the people on this Earth are truly one…in their pride in what you have done, and…in our prayers that you will return safely to Earth.”

And yet, by the time Armstrong and Aldrin were stepping onto the moon in a grand symbol of the success of the nation’s moon shot, Americans back on earth were turning against each other. Movement conservatives who hated post–World War II business regulation, taxation, and civil rights demanded smaller government and championed the idea of individualism, while those opposed to the war in Vietnam increasingly distrusted the government.

After May 4, 1970, when the shooting of college students at Kent State University in Ohio badly weakened Nixon’s support, he began to rally supporters to his side with what his vice president, Spiro Agnew, called “positive polarization.” They characterized those who opposed the administration as anti-American layabouts who simply wanted a handout from the government. The idea that Americans could come together to construct a daring new future ran aground on the idea that anti-war protesters, people of color, and women were draining hardworking taxpayers of their hard-earned money.

Ten years later, former actor and governor of California Ronald Reagan won the White House by promising to defend white taxpayers from people like the “welfare queen,” who, he said, “has 80 names, 30 addresses, 12 Social Security cards and is collecting veteran’s benefits on four non-existing deceased husbands.” Reagan promised to champion individual Americans, getting government, and the taxes it swallowed, off people’s backs.

“In this present crisis, government is not the solution to our problem; government is the problem,” Reagan said in his Inaugural Address. Americans increasingly turned away from the post–World War II teamwork and solidarity that had made the Apollo program a success, and instead focused on liberating individual men to climb upward on their own terms, unhampered by regulation or taxes.

This week, on July 20, 2021, 52 years to the day after Armstrong and Aldrin stepped onto the moon, former Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos and four passengers spent 11 minutes in the air, three of them more than 62 miles above the earth, where many scientists say space starts. For those three minutes, they were weightless. And then the pilotless spaceship returned to Earth.

Traveling with Bezos were his brother, Mark; 82-year-old Wally Funk, a woman who trained to be an astronaut in the 1960s but was never permitted to go to space; and 18-year-old Oliver Daemen from the Netherlands, whose father paid something under $28 million for the seat.

Bezos’s goal, he says, is not simply to launch space tourism, but also to spread humans to other planets in order to grow beyond the resource limits on earth. The solar system can easily support a trillion humans,” Bezos has said. “We would have a thousand Einsteins and a thousand Mozarts and unlimited—for all practical purposes—resources and solar power and so on. That's the world that I want my great-grandchildren's great-grandchildren to live in.”

Ariane Cornell, astronaut-sales director of Bezos’s space company Blue Origin, live-streamed the event, telling the audience that the launch “represents a number of firsts.” It was “[t]he first time a privately funded spaceflight vehicle has launched private citizens to space from a private launch site and private range down here in Texas. It’s also a giant first step towards our vision to have millions of people living and working in space.”

In 2021, Bezos paid $973 million in taxes on $4.22 billion in income while his wealth increased by $99 billion, making his true tax rate 0.98%. After his trip into the sky, he told reporters: “I want to thank every Amazon employee and every Amazon customer because you guys paid for all of this…. Seriously, for every Amazon customer out there and every Amazon employee, thank you from the bottom of my heart very much. It’s very appreciated.”

—-

Notes:

https://www.businessinsider.com/jeff-bezos-space-flight-passenger-revealed-wally-funk-2021-7

https://www.businessinsider.com/blue-origin-auction-spacecraft-jeff-bezos-winner-seat-astronaut-2021-6

https://www.businessinsider.com/jeff-bezos-launches-to-space-blue-origin-first-human-spaceflight-2021-7

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2021/06/08/wealthy-irs-taxes/

https://www.businessinsider.com/jeff-bezos-thanks-amazon-customers-for-paying-trip-to-space-2021-7

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[From comments: “When you’ve been able to amass your money by not paying your fair share of taxes, your “privately funded” venture is a diversion of rightfully public funds. This new space race is publicly funded, but absent public controls and alignment. Socialize the expenses, privatize the profits.”

“After May 4, 1970, when the shooting of college students at Kent State University in Ohio badly weakened Nixon’s support, he began to rally supporters to his side with what his vice president, Spiro Agnew, called “positive polarization."Combined with the unsubtle racism of Nixon's Southern Strategy, thus began the decades long Republican policy of dividing Americans against each other that has led us to what we have today; two Americas that reside in different universes, and our national wealth controlled by a handful of unelected, supremely, in some cases psychotically, self-centered white men.Jeff Bezos could not have existed in Kennedy's America. We must make that so again.”

#political #polarity #division #greed #Heather Cox Richardson #history #space race #common good #Letters From An American #wealth inequality #fair share

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loxare · 3 years

Text

More Untamed ficlets when I should be sleeping, yay!

Madame Yu hated the boy.

But if she were inclined to be fair, which she usually isn't, she would have to admit that it wasn't because of anything the boy himself did. No, she hated the rumors that his presence sparked, that her husband would disrespect her enough to have an affair with a woman who had rejected him. She hated the way that despite her best efforts, her children regarded him as a sibling. But most of all, she hated the way her husband looked upon the boy with more tenderness than he did upon his own children. Her own children.

It was far too late to get rid of him. Now that he had developed a golden core, to toss him out without teaching him how to properly develop it would be worse than negligence. An improperly developed core could lead to overloaded meridians, causing weakness in the body later in life. So no, she couldn't just kick him out.

But perhaps she could make use of him in another way.

Her maids packed efficiently, as they always have. The boy was training, and as such it was nothing for Yinzhu to sneak in and put a change of clothes in a bag for him. He would not need much. As Madame Yu wrote a note to her daughter, to avoid straining her constitution with worry, Jinzhu got the boat ready. Jiang Fengmian received no such note. He could pace a hole in the floor for all she cared.

By the time Madame Yu walked onto the dock, the boat was prepared and her maids were seated primly, a confused, sulking and soaking wet Wei Ying between them. She raised her eyebrow. Yinzhu said, "He was struggling, so I put him in the lake until he cooled off."

"I told you I could walk by myself," Wei Ying groused. "You didn't need to carry me."

Madame Yu's exact order had been for Yinzhu to pick up Wei Ying from training when they were ready to go. If she decided to interpret her orders entirely literally, Madame Yu was not going to take that from her. Especially since she had also ordered her maids to mind Wei Ying and keep him from annoying her as much as possible. They should get to have some fun.

The journey was peaceful. The river was slow this time of year, so the trip upriver was quick and not turbulent. Wei Ying ran to and fro on the boat but, largely due to Jinzhu and Yinzhu's efforts, stayed away from the shaded pavilion Madame Yu sat under. He fell into the water twice. Gradually, the river narrowed as tributaries branched off, and the water became the swift, clear white waters Madame Yu knew best, and the disciples driving the boat were forced to put down their bamboo poles and use talismans to propel the boat instead.

Finally, they stopped. Meishan Yu had one dock for trading, situated on a slow moving canal dug for that exact purpose. The rest of the river was too fast for any boat to stay docked for long and ran as wild and free as the people who lived along it. The disciples were given their orders, to wait for Madame Yu's return, and then Madame Yu and her maids took their charge into the mountains.

The hall of her grandmother was grand and old, although not as old as the woman herself. It was not a sect headquarters, not technically, but it was where most of the juniors were trained before they were sent into the wilds to complete their lessons.

Her grandmother sat in the central chair on the dais, with Madame Yu's twin elder sisters on either side. Madame Yu stopped a respectful distance away. Jinzhu and Yinzhu retreated to the sides of the hall. They would not be needed here. At her side, Wei Ying fell to his knees and pressed his forehead against the floor, as she had instructed him. Madame Yu bowed. "Popo. Da-jie. Er-jie."

"Ziyuan." Da-jie stood at her grandmother's nod, and took three steps forward, so Madame Yu was addressing her directly. She was the head of Meishan Yu. It was only right. "Why have you come here?"

She knew already. Madame Yu had sent a letter ahead. But now it was time for Madame Yu to make her case. "I have come to have this child trained as a Pearl." Beside her, Wei Ying gasped. She had not told him of the reason she was bringing him here. It was not his business. Wisely, he said nothing.

Da-jie sniffed. "You have two Pearls, Ziyuan. To have more is greedy."

"Not for myself. For my son."

Er-jie laughed. She had not approved of Ziyuan's marriage, but she had not had a voice at the time. "Your son is Jiang. Only Yu may have Pearls."

"My son is half Yu. The blood of the steppe runs through his veins as it does mine." He was not much of a Yu, to be fair. His anger was as quick as the river that rushed through the wilds, but he was timid in his decisions, too soft and slow to deviate from the path carved before him. He was like the slow rivers of Yunmeng.

Perhaps he should come here for training as well.

Da-jie considered. Madame Yu knew it would not be a hardship for her to train Wei Ying. The training for a Pearl was far more intensive than for a disciple, but Wei Ying had already shown a knack for learning and adapting quickly. And it would be a change of pace for Da-jie, who changed the training schedule weekly to keep from getting bored. Training a Pearl would keep her entertained for a while.

Slow as the sun setting behind the mountain, a smile crept over Da-jie's face. "One Pearl for half a Yu. Very well, Ziyuan. Shanzhu. Fengzhu." At her call, Da-jie's Pearls came forward. "Take this out into the field and test him."

Shanzhu grabbed Wei Ying by the back of his robes and hauled him to his feet. He looked upon her with eyes wide. "Madame Yu?"

She did not owe him an explanation. He owed her sect his life and she was going to ensure that life would be a useful one. But something in his gaze made her soften. She did not owe him an explanation. But for most of his life, he had not had a home. And now she was taking from him what her husband had promised would always be his. So Madame Yu said, "you may return to Lotus Pier once you have finished your training."

Wei Ying did not get a chance to respond, as Shanzhu pulled on his arm and dragged him away. But he looked determined rather than frightened.

Er-jie watched as they left. Then she slung an arm around her younger sister's shoulders. "Well. While you're here, why don't we renegotiate our trade contracts? I would love to take even more chilis and lotus silk from you."

"Xiao-Yan." Popo stood and took Ziyuan's hands in her own. "Welcome back, Xiao-Yuan. Come. You shall have lunch and tell me of my grandchildren, and then you will explain why they haven't visited me in four years."

"Yes Popo." Lunch was delicious, and almost as hot as she preferred it to be.

The trip home was quick and quiet, especially with Wei Ying no longer on the boat. When she got home, she was pleased to see that a-Li had not told her father where Wei Ying was, as she had requested. A-Cheng was grumpy but not worried, so she had told him, but Fengmian was in a state of panic. He clearly hadn't played enough attention to his children to see that they were calm.

He was not pleased when she told him where Wei Ying was. But in the end, he did not have a leg to stand on. As the Lady of Yunmeng Jiang, she had final say on which disciples she trained personally and which she did not. If she decided to outsource the training of a disciple to another sect, that was her business. Additionally, she could guarantee that Wei Ying would be fed, clothed, and housed while he was gone, which is what he had been promised when Fengmian had acquired him.

A-Cheng and a-Li both spent the fall and spring in Meishan for the two years after that. The year after, Wei Ying returned as Tiezhu and received Wuxian as a courtesy name, the same day a-Cheng received Wanyin.

Wei Wuxian had used his time in Meishan well, and it did not take him long to catch up with the other juniors. Fengmian named him head disciple, probably to spite Madame Yu, but even she had to admit that he had the skills for it. Wei Wuxian was better even than some of his seniors.

Fengmian stopped praising Wei Wuxian for his skills when the boy stopped reacting well to them. In Meishan, pretty words were meaningless, as ephemeral as the clouds in the sky. Fengmian had never understood that in all the years they'd been married.

Wei Wuxian was stronger than her son. He always had been, and he always would be. Madame Yu had always known this. But now, he was a weapon for her son to wield, a sword to pierce his enemies or a shield to take the blows meant for him. Now, Wei Wuxian's strength was Jiang Wanyin's strength.

Madame Yu watched her son grumble at his laughing Pearl, as a-Li fed them baozi. Her own Jinzhu brought her some more tea while Yinzhu stood at her shoulder.

Her son would always be protected. Her daughter too, if Madame Yu read Wei Wuxian correctly. And this, this was something she could be content with.

***

Madame Yu gets Jinzhu and Yinzhu (gold pearl and silver pearl), so why not Jiang Cheng, I ask myself at an hour past my bedtime? Tiezhu means iron pearl, but the (very brief, very sleep deprived) research I did said that 铁 tie also means weapon, unshakeable, determined, strong, and close, as in "always close to Jiang Cheng". I thought it fit but I might disagree with myself in the morning.

Oh, and Shanzhu means mountain pearl and Fengzhu means summit pearl. Probably. Feel free to correct me if those are wrong

#Untamed #mdzs #Wei Wuxian #Madame Yu #Yu Ziyuan #wwx #Don't get me wrong this still isn't a great relationship for yzy and wwx #and it's not great for wwx's self sacrificial tendencies #like at all #this isn't really a fixit in that canon events will be better #or maybe they will idk I just work here #but it's better for both yzy and wwx #and also! a better use of resources!#Come on yzy you have an entire person here ready to throw his life away for your children!#You gotta focus that energy #Anyways the kids go to Gusu in a few months and wwx is just as much of a disaster as he usually is #because if the Burial Mounds couldn't completely destroy his personality nothing can #especially not a fun (?) two and a half years running around Meishan and learning from Shan-jie and Feng-jie #he's just twice as deadly and three times as protective of his siblings #Thinking about it I don't think jzx is going to get away with just one punch to the face #rip to jzx's pretty face I guess #Loxie's fics

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emelywrites · 4 years

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Omg!!! Ahh this was a masterpiece thank you so much!! Omg the dad though that’s hilarious so shenanigans kids XD!!! That’s fantastic! Can you make a part 2 where he engages to her and then there future together and how they deal with losing their first child or something I would love to see that!! Thank you so so much!! :) - @erikathehufflepuff

Part 2 to Summer Days

Oh my god, that gif, I love it so much 😍. Also I didn’t want to write this originally, mostly because of the very angsty themes that I don’t have experience with but then it turned into this very long, sweet piece, so enjoy please. (Also, I basically described my dream wedding, so sorry if it isn’t yours but I couldn’t resist)

Warnings: Tiny references to Smut, Miscarriage (Angst), mostly fluff, comfort, happy ending

Our future

When you told Cedric that you wouldn’t have the money to buy a house after graduation you did not think that would entail him enlisting in the Triwizard Tournament. He did so anyway and your sixth year was kind of tough because you were so mad at him you barely talked to him. The tournament was dangerous. You let him know that whenever he did try to talk to you. However, after he had mastered the first task you couldn’t contain how glad you were that he had survived and jumped into his arms - pulling back when he winced and apologizing profusely.

From then on you tried to help him get through the tasks and you became the annoyingly sweet couple again. He took you to the Yule Ball and you had a wonderful night together - where he told you over and over again how beautiful you looked. You were taken hostage by the merpeople when the second task rolled around and Cedric was the first to come back up out of the water, with you in his arms. When you arrived at the surface you took a deep, panicked breath but when you saw and felt him near you, you turned in his arms and kissed him passionately - the announcer didn’t miss it and made sure everyone knew. Him and Harry came out of the maze as joint winners, each getting a prize money of 500 galleons.

„You can’t buy a house from 500 galleons, sorry, darling“, he said, handing you the bag of money and falling onto the seat next to you, cuddling into your shoulder.

„Don’t worry about it. We have another year of school left and after that we’ll start working. And by the time we have grandchildren we’ll be able to tell them not to get into any shenanigans in our beach house“, you giggled.

He laughed weakly alongside you, slowly drifting off to sleep in you arms while you were sitting with him, holding him close, marveling at his beautiful features.

Seventh year was spent studying a lot, pushing each other to your personal bests and celebrating one another’s good days and holding each other through the bad days. You both graduated with flying colours and immediately started your individual trainings for your dream jobs.

For the first few years after graduating you lived in the tiniest, coziest apartment in Diagon Alley. Not a place where you could host friends, but a place where you cooked together, ate together, danced together, bumped into furniture together because your movements were to big and mused about your future together. On your 22nd birthday, Cedric proposed to you. You were both nearly done with your trainings and life was just this near perfect. Of course you said yes, a golden ring, with a little diamond in the center now adorning your left ring finger.

On the fifth May 2001 you got married. It was a small ceremony, only your close friends and family were there. You walked down the aisle to ‚Here Comes The Sun‘ by the Beatles and Cedric had the biggest grin on his face when the song started playing and he saw you walk to him in a simple but beautiful wedding dress. It didn’t have a long train, it didn’t even reach the floor, because how were you gonna dance in such a long dress? Your hair clipped back so he could see your perfect face and a veil at the knot that ended just where your spine did.

Cedric knew you were beautiful, he always thought so, but in that moment he was certain you had become an angel.

To him, the only thing that could possibly improve your looks would be a little belly, holding his child. And that happened less than a year after your wedding. You were both well settled in your jobs and were now house hunting for that dream house by the beach you’d always been talking about.

„You know, we live in the UK, though. It’s not always gonna be summer break 1994“, you told him after your third offer had been rejected.

„Hold on, love, are you doubting now? Just because three offers have failed doesn’t mean our dreams have“, he pulled you into his arms, but with enough distance so he could look at your face.

„Just making sure this wasn’t some teenagers dreaming about something that we have to handle as adults“, you said.

„Pretty sure I still have the same dreams, what do you think, little love?“, he leaned down to your belly as a pain shot through it.

You put a hand to your belly and gripped Cedric’s arm tighter. A look of shock was in your eyes as he looked at you with a worried frown.

„What is it? It’s too early, we have four more months“, he held you, noticing you had trouble standing on your own.

You couldn’t get out a word to explain what was going on, your pain and emotions overwhelming you. Cedric acted quickly and took you to St Mungos. They did a few tests on you and after a short while a healer came into your room where Cedric and you had been sitting, holding one another in silence.

„Mr and Mrs Diggory, I’m sorry to tell you…“

Your baby was gone. Your dreams had been shattered. You couldn’t even cry as Cedric held you closer letting his own tears flow silently. For days you both stayed silent. It wasn’t necessarily an awkward silence, but neither of you knew what to say. You weren’t cuddling in bed anymore. You weren’t dancing through your apartment anymore. The bruises that were always somewhere from bumping into furniture were slowly fading. You both were at work a lot of the time. You had meals outside of the apartment and usually planned your shifts so you rarely had to see one another.

Two weeks after your loss you got an owl during one of the few times where you saw each other at your place as you had breakfast. He got up to retrieve the letter and the owl flew off again. He opened the letter and read it. Then he looked at you, who had been sitting in your chair silently eating the muesli, not paying any attention to the owl or Cedric.

„Our offer was accepted“, his voice was scratchy because he hadn’t talked today as it was only morning, „For the house. The one with the open floor plan and the big windows and the garden with the steps leading down to the beach.“

His voice sounded excited. It had been your favourite house out of all the ones you’d looked at but you didn’t understand how he dared sound so excited.

„There was one room in that house“, you whispered, tears gathering in your eyes. You hadn’t cried in front of him since it had happened, „It was staged as a- as a nursery. I wanted that to be her nursery. Our daughter’s nursery.“

The tears flowed now and Cedric got up to pull you into his arms. You cried into his chest as he held you close. You hadn’t cried this much before but in his arms you finally felt free to cry and sob loudly. You didn’t know how long you had been crying but Cedric held and rocked you through it all. When you ran out of tears you noticed more of the world around you again and felt that Cedric’s own tears had been caught in your hair. You didn’t pull back from him though as he maneuvered you both to sit on the couch.

„Maybe one day, that room will be a nursery“, he said, quietly, not sure if you were ready to talk about such a possibility yet.

„Maybe“, you whispered, cuddling closer to him again.

You held each other close again. You’d called in sick from work and stayed together. You cuddled, sent a letter back to the realtor’s agency and quietly, slowly, little by little, brought up small ideas on how you were going to decorate your house.

Over the course of the next few months you moved into your new house. It was decorated beautifully with little things you’d found in different stores when you were looking for furniture. You spent a lot of time in the garden, making it look nice, planting wildflowers and vegetables and fruit. You started using your time off work to spend time with your husband, when you had more time you’d take little trips, just a few days to get out of the routine. Sometimes you left the country, sometimes you stayed in the UK, just whatever you felt like doing, really costing out your youth.

Cedric’s 28th birthday was approaching and you had just found out you were pregnant again. You didn’t want to make it a big deal, in fear that if it turned out badly again, everyone would know and pity you again. So, before your family and friends arrived for the little autumn-time barbecue you’d invited them to, you wanted to give Cedric his gift. You’d gotten up early and prepared a nice breakfast in bed for him with some cinnamon waffles, hot chocolate and some of the last fruit from your garden. You brought it back up to your bedroom where Cedric was just waking up, smiling when he saw you entering with the breakfast tray, wearing just a negligé, your robe hanging openly and fluffy socks on your feet.

You smiled back as he sat up. Putting the tray down on his lap you sat by his bedside.

„Happy birthday, my love“, you whispered, pressing a kiss to his lips and smiling into it.

„Thank you, darling“, he smiled and then proceeded to compliment the food before he’d even tried it.

You both dug in, talking about his plans and hopes for the day. You listened to him contently until you’d eaten up, drank your mugs of hot chocolate and he had nothing else to say. He was about to get up when you put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down softly. You smiled and walked over to your nightstand where you’d hidden the small box. He put the tray aside so you could give him his gift and he had a wide smile on his face as he started unwrapping it.

He opened the box to find the ultrasound picture and a little romper in Hufflepuff colours.

„Is this for real?“, he asked, tears collecting in his eyes.

„I certainly wouldn’t joke about it“, you reminded him.

He pulled you into a hug that seemed as though it could have crushed you but he was so immensely careful with you.

„Just know, I’ll be treating you as if you were made of glass.“

- 50 years later -

You were sitting in a sun chair at the beach, soaking up the sun, listening to the waves while you were reading your book.

„They’re here, love“, you heard Cedric calling for you from the top of the steps.

You were standing up when you felt someone at your side.

„Don’t hurt yourself, mum“, your son, Miles, told you, helping you up and then taking the sun chair in the other hand.

„You’re too kind, darling, you were raised well“, you smiled at him, and he laughed a little.

Miles was the only one out of your three children you got to meet who was an exact carbon copy of Cedric. Your oldest child, also a son, was a perfect mix of you two while your daughter looked just like you and had inherited most of her dad’s personality. Your older son, Leo, was nearly fifty and had followed his father’s career path. He had three kids of his own, one of which had already graduated and become a professional Quidditch player. Your daughter, Ella, 45 years old, had started her life after Hogwarts traveling the world as a herbologist, and then took up the position of Herbology Professor in Beauxbatons after she’d met her wife there. They didn’t have children, just a lot of plants, and they were happy.

Miles was your youngest, he was soon turning 40 and had stuck around the longest. He searched all types of career paths and stayed at home until he was 25. He had had a little accident along the way and was now a Single Dad of twin girls who were finishing their fourth year now. He had come to run the Three Broomsticks and lived in Hogsmeade but he did prefer to spend a lot of time with you and Cedric. Even at 39 years old he was a mama’s boy.

When you arrived in your garden you saw that it was packed with your children, daughters-in-law, grandchildren and some of their friends, including a boyfriend who was holding your granddaughter’s hand, trying not to stand even closer to her, to not make it awkward. They had all just started their summer break and as usual they’d be spending at least a week here. Some tents had already been put up in the garden as they quite liked camping out in your garden, especially because you didn’t have that much space inside.

You had lunch together and then your grandchildren and their friends decided to run down to the beach. Cedric threw you a grin and you stepped close to him, leaning into his side as he spoke up.

„No shenanigans, we’re not quite ready for great-grandchildren!“

#harry potter #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader

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