#t; granny was once a beauty!
Text
ᴍʏ ꜰᴏʀᴇɪɢɴ ɢʀᴀɴᴅᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ
ᴇᴘɪꜱᴏᴅᴇ : 004 ( granny was once a beauty! )
ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ɢᴜᴇꜱᴛ: @yujinlgc
By the fourth time Ichika meets Granny Lee, the woman’s warm personality truly penetrates the idol’s shell. She wonders if this is because even in her younger years, she always felt more comfortable in the presence of older women or if it’s just a testament to Granny’s nature—though both could be true at the same time. And perhaps it helps too that today one of her members, Yujin, is joining her. Even with the eyes of the filming staff, it’s easy to slip into this world and comment on how Granny doesn’t need to peel fruit for them, as they’re both happy to help when something catches her eye. She can still hear the old woman chatting in the kitchen while she scoots on her knees toward a nearby bookcase and removes a very thick photo album.
“Granny, you were so young!” the idol can’t help the shock in her voice as a page of old photos lays open in her palms. In one, Granny has to be a teenager at the time, judging by her school uniform and the bob of her hair. There’s a woman next to her and two younger children, one half a head shorter, holding the hand of a surly-looking child with a bowl cut— both looking ready to attend school as well. Other photos seem to be around this, faded and old, showing the family in various states of life.
“Oh yes, you found some of my old photos, have you?” Ichika’s head turns back up as the old woman speaks, watching while she settles down at the table with the fruit and urges Yujin to eat the pears. Bringing the album closer, Ichika sets it down on the table so the other two women can better see. “That’s one, right there, is a photo of me, my mother, and my little brothers. I think I was about 16 years old… about 1960, I think. Ah tea! Let me get tea!”
Before either girl can refuse, Granny is getting to her feet, groaning and joints pooping but oddly quick despite it all.
“Oh!” Turning a few more pages, Ichika can’t help but gasp as a few photos slip out, clearly unbound. Instinctually, she moves to try and gather them when she notices some of the photos feature a slightly older Granny and a man in a military uniform. “Oh,” she pauses and blinks before pointing at the man, “do you think this was her husband?”
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey beautiful I was wondering how lumberjack Henry would react to shy wife getting drunk? Is she a happy giggling drunk? Or just randomly confident and not shy at all? ❤️
Lumberjack!Henry Dealing with Drunk Shy!Short!Wife
A/n: Loved this idea so much I made it into a spicy sweet drabble
Disclaimer 18+ / Lumberjack!Henry Masterlist
“Hey pretty girl, I missed ya” Henry whispered helping in his drunk wife, who was clearly having a damn good time at her best friend’s hen party; too precious for her own good. “I-I miss m-my hubby n-n my m-marly” She hiccuped hugging onto Henry’s side tightly for balance, his hand subtly running down her back to give her ass a tight squeeze.
“H-hey only m-my husband can do that Mister!”
Y/n scolded wagging her finger in the older man’s face, still not recognising that it was indeed her grumpy lumberjack husband, her Henry. “Oh sorry bunbun, my apologies” He smirked helping her onto their shared bed, which was full of anything pink, from pillows to small fluffy blankets; it was all for her. Henry’s cabin used to be the epitome of dark, if possible any piece of furniture was black, but now with this little light in his life that was changed. His lunches for work had tiny love notes in them, their toothpaste was strawberry flavoured, his couch had pink covers and his bedsheets were no longer black, but a dusty pink.
That wasn’t even all of it.
“Wait! Y-you just called- called me b-bunbun, n’ o-only my husband does t-that” She said squinting her eyes as he took off her heels, massaging her poor feet, before pulling down the stockings she was wearing to protect herself from the Winter cold. “I am your husband sugar, your one n’ only lumberjack” He chuckled hovering over her as she pulled him down on top of her, her hands tracing over his nose bridge as usual, “O-oh baby i-it is you! M-missed you s-so much, need y-you so bad. I-I got a little d-drunk so am sorry, b-but I love youuu” She sang out in a little song, throwing her arms around his neck, his lips raining kisses on her face as she giggled.
“S’okay bun, remember I told ya to enjoy yourself, as long as ya text me to pick ya up, n’ ya did” Henry replied slowly, pulling down the side zipper of her black sweater dress, her head lazily nodding along to his words. “Are ya p-proud of me? M-made sure to keep an e-eye on my drinks n-n’ I didn’t go t-to the toilet a-alone, and AND! I r-replied to y-your hourly t-texts” She hiccuped smiling proudly to herself, her arms coming up so Henry could pull the dress off her, leaving her in her favourite pair and comfortable pair of granny panties; which Henry swiftly took off because of the rule, no panties indoors.
“Mhm so proud of you bun, couldn’t make me happier, did ya enjoy yourself?” Henry smirked placing a kiss right above her pussy making her shudder, before pulling up her sleep shorts, which were actually Henry’s that shrunk in the laundry. Her giggles filling his ears as she tangled her hands in his mop of curls, his hands lifting hers up to put the shirt on, but not without unclipping her bra first. “N-no, don’t wanna shirt, s’too warm” She whined flopping around like a fish, making him sigh and just throw the shirt to the side, not like he was complaining much.
“n’ what if ya get cold baby?” He quirked helping her crawl under the soft crisp covers, his hands coming to push a headband on, keeping her hair away from her gorgeous face. Reaching for the micellar water on the nightstand, he took a few cotton pads and began wiping the light makeup she had put on that night, her mouth jokingly trying to bite onto the cotton.
“Ey, no bitin’ or else no sexy time” Henry smirked instantly watching her stop and straighten her face, but her lips filled into a pout. “I-if I get cold, then I-I have you s-silly” She smiled once he finished, her head bouncing side to side on the pillow, her energy still bouncing off the walls. “Mhm you’re right bun, i’ll keep ya warm, all night” He whispered sliding into his side of the bed, his hand patting his chest invitingly as she wiggled over, her head landing on top of his pec. “Y-you’re so fuzzy n’ warm, I-I kept tellin’ the girls, th-they were sooo j-jealous. Course I told them, y-ya were mine, LOOK AT MY FINGER!” She rambled holding up her left finger, pointing at the golden wedding band sitting snugly, a giddy smile on her face as she felt Henry’s hand rubbing up and down her side.
Henry’s chest swelled with pride at the thought of his precious little wife getting the confidence to tell people she was his, proudly showing off how they claimed each other with the rings on their fingers, the next step of putting a baby in her already cooking in his head. “Gah maybe I should let you get drunk more often sugar, you’re like a little sprout of energy, but I miss my little sugar pie who needs me” He grumbled kissing her cheek wetly, hearing her squeak in delight at the affection. “I-I do need you bear, m-more than ya know, am y-your woman af-after all”
Grinning she leant up and kissed his lips sloppily, the taste of Vodka on her tongue causing Henry to smirk and deepen the kiss, her whimpers and moans being swallowed by him readily. Her fingers trying to direct his hand to her needy clit, but she failed. “W-why not?” She whined against his lips, a string of saliva connecting their mouths, her eyes glistening like stars. “Not right now bunbun, not when ya drunk alright?”
“S-so I have ta wait till mornin’ t-to h-have sexy time?”
“Well the quicker ya sleep the quicker ya wake up my love” He chuckled softly caressing her cheek, her skin soft n’ smooth to touch, the scars from her acne only defining her beauty further. “Hm okay!” She replied closing her eyes tightly pretending to sleep, before yawning and opening her eyes, “Is it morning?”
“Not funny sugar, go ta bed” He growled nipping her nipples gently, pressing a kiss to her jaw, “fine fine i’ll go to bed, mr grumpy” She whispered nuzzling into his chest, and within seconds her small snores vibrated against her husband’s hairy chest; Henry smiling triumphantly.
——-
A/n: I found this so cute and fun to write🥹🥹
Library blog of works: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection
Taglist (not accepting, please use library)
@pandaxnienke @thereisa8ella @kimhtoo17 @beck07990 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @madebylilly @kebabgirl67 @marvelgurl @uwiuwi @stormcloudss @girl-of-multi-fandoms @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @aerangi @bookfrog242 @alina02 @alexxavicry @lastwandastan @hp-hogwartsexpress @angelmather1 @acornacre @ggmimitf @thebaileybugle @p4st3lst4rs @kzhlvlysstuff @thoughtsofreid @cilliansangel @theekyliepage @cookielovesbook-akie @luvabellee @elenavampire21 @hoya122 @rosiesluv7 @yaminax @esposadomd @meyocoko @disaster-rose @severewobblerlightdragon @kemillyfreitas @adoreyouusugar @queensgirl718 @sweetybuzz25 @helenaellie
lots of love xoxo
lots of love xx
lots of love xo
Lots of love🫶
#henry cavill#lumberjack!henry cavill#henry cavill x reader#henry cavill imagine#henry cavill x female reader#henry cavill fandom#henry cavill x shy!reader#henry cavill x short!reader#henry cavill fluff#henry cavill x wife!reader#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill rpf
804 notes
·
View notes
Note
Firefight aaron hotchner coming homw to see his lover dressed in lingerie asleep and him taking it off and putting her in one of her(hid old tshirt ) and her mumbling while he starts. To drift off " i was supposed to be sexy " in his arms
today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)
THIS WAS SO CUTE :((
--
There's a certain level of sexiness that Aaron always sees in you. You could be hunched over the toilet spewing your breakfast, but you're his wife, and that sends a shiver down his spine. Now is no different, but fondness wins over lust.
You're curled up on Aaron's side of the bed, a black lacy lingerie set stretched over your soft curves. Your eyes are shut, and there's drool seeping from your lips, and you're beautiful.
He's already shed his work clothes, stains on his jacket and a rip in his jeans from a training exercise where he'd scaled a chain link fence. He's dropped them both into the laundry hamper, though there's no saving the jeans, and he stands before you in only his boxers.
He knows the lingerie is meant for show, not function. He starts with the panties, hooking his thumbs into the waistband and tugging them down your thighs. Typically, after doing that, he sinks to his knees by the edge of the bed, but this time he replaces the black lace with a pair you fondly call your 'granny panties'.
Then he goes after the bra. He knows it'll give you a rash if you wear it too long, the itchy lace around the border irritating your skin. And he's sure your boobs wouldn't thank you either, sore and achy from their confinement. He unclasps it with barely an ounce of difficulty, your back on display where you're laying on your stomach.
He has to shimmy you slightly to get your chest free of the cups. It rouses you a little too much, and you blink blearily at him in the mood lighting you've set up.
"Aaron," You groan, spotting the t-shirt he's bunching up around the neck hole, "I was supposed to be sexy."
"You are sexy," He promises, leaning forwards to kiss you once, then slip the shirt over your head, and kiss you again. You seem ultimately unamused, but when he hovers with his nose gently brushing yours, you give up your grudge.
"Tomorrow," You promise groggily, eagerly rolling into his arms when he settles on your side of the bed. Your lingerie is neatly and carefully laid out on the windowseat, but Aaron doesn't know if he'll be able to have patience enough for you to put it on just so he can take it back off again.
"Tomorrow," He agrees, voice husky as the jaws of sleep nip at his consciousness. He lets you curl into his chest, his lips pressing against your temple. You let out a contended sigh against his skin, and his hand rests idly on the curve of your ass where the hem of his t-shirt lies. There, drifting off to sleep, he decides that you're just as sexy in an old ratty t-shirt of his as you are in lingerie.
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner scenario#aaron hotchner oneshot#aaron hotchner one-shot#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner headcanon#aaron hotchner headcanons#aaron hotchner hc#aaron hotchner hcs#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner dialogue#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction#aaron hotchner au#firefighter!hotch#multiverse mondays#ddejavvu's multiverse mondays
444 notes
·
View notes
Text
DOMESTIC LIFE | HEADCANONS.
DAN TORRANCE x GN!READER
warnings: none, brief mentions of nightmares and implied PTSD.
word count: 649
summary: how sharing a simple domestic life with dan would probably be like.
After some months dating, you agree to try living together and see how it goes. He is not so convinced when you first try to talk him into it, but after three years sober —and your insistence that everything would be fine—, he finally says yes to moving into your house.
At first, he didn't get used to it. He walks in a world softer and safer than what he usually did before being sober, for once there are no sharp edges and he doesn't dislike it at all.
Anxiety and insecurities from his shifts at the Rivington dissolve the moment he looks at the clock hanging on the wall and thinks is almost time to go back home to you.
He cannot seem to choose which are his favorite kisses now — good morning kisses or goodnight kisses.
He feels brought back to life every time your lips pepper his face with soft pecks all over his face in the mornings, and every little attempt of you to get out of bed seems impossible now, but there's no time to complain when you’re being loved.
You were aware of the fact Dan had a gift, though he hadn't opened up completely about it yet, you were patient and never forced the topic on him — one of the many reasons he was so fond of you.
The fear of you finding him spooky or creepy because of his shining was always haunting him in the back of his mind every time he shared a room with you in your small house. You, on the other hand, were always attentive of his little shining outbursts, fascinated by how much he understood you though you always tried to be ahead of things.
It came in handy when you couldn't remember where you left that sweater your granny gifted you on snow days or when you forgot to stop at the convenience store to buy more milk, you would get home to find him folding the clothes you forgot to take out of the washing machine before leaving to work — but there were negative aspects.
Nightmares were less frequent, yet, the probability never lowered to zero. He would wake up abruptly at midnight, sweaty and shivering, babbling about demons you couldn't understand — and frankly didn't ask about. You could only shy away some of your sleepy state and think of how to make him feel safe again.
Nights were somber pools of self-deprecating thoughts before drifting off to sleep, where he seeked the calm of nothingness. Now, as you cuddle under the sheets, he seeks the comfort of your warmth and the soothing touch of your fingertips on his scalp, easing all his worries goodbye.
On days that are not so busy, he would wake up to the smell of coffee or the sound of your singing in the shower. Clashing cooking utensils was almost the norm. He was an awful cook and you were no chef either, but the bliss of sharing a table with you made the whole morning ritual a good reason to be alive.
And he doesn't mutter any thank you's after he finishes, but when he washes the dishes, you can hear how content he hums sweet tunes and it makes you smile to see how happy he is compared to when you first met him.
He would occasionally ask for you to lend him things just to brush his hands with yours, sometimes ridiculously near him, like the remote next to him —it amuses you—, and you silently wait for the moment he pulls you into a hug once you reach out to him, sitting you in his lap to watch T.V.
He had no dreams before you, nothing to hold on to, living for the day in ragged T-shirts, he found beauty in the ordinary, in the simple quiet life he was sharing with you.
Author's note: So, I realized there is little to nothing content about Dan and he's frankly one of my favorite of Ewan's characters. This reader was thought as a non-shining reader. I'll probably write more on him if this is well received.
#dan torrance#doctor sleep#the shining#ewan mcgregor#dan torrance x reader#danny torrance x reader#doctor sleep x reader#ewan mcgregor x reader#fay writes
54 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dracula in Storybrooke part 2
For Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 23
Once Upon a Time missing storyline/AU
Killian noticed a man staring at Emma.
He had on leather pants, leather boots, and his shirt was opened clear down to near his naval. Revealing a well toned chest.
“But greatly lacking in chest hair.” Killian thought smugly.
The man who introduced himself as Drake, gazed at Emma with fascination.
“My, my, you are by far the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. The very sun is dim in comparison to your golden hair.”
Killian rolled his eyes. Just who did this git think he was. It irritated him more to see that Emma was actually smiling at the fool.
Neither man knew it, but Emma’s smile was due to her seeing that the two men, who seemed to be trying to one up each other, were very much alike.
“I really must have a type.” She thought to herself.
Both men had dark hair, deep blue eyes, and accents.
Drake wore a shirt with most of the buttons undone, reminding Emma of Killian’s wardrobe before he started wearing modern clothes.
She sometimes wished Killian would go back to wearing those clothes, at least on some days. She had always loved how sexy and dangerous he looked.
Yet Killian was staring daggers at the man, as if he considered him a rival.
Killian didn’t like the pure hunger he saw in Drake’s eyes as he stared at Emma. It was too possessive.
“It’s strange how in this world, a woman can cover her whole body, and still her lovely form is revealed.” Drake’s eyes moved over Emma. “I look forward to discovering what other wonders this place has in store.”
“He’s a smooth one.” Granny commented. “My mother always said, “Beware of a silver tongue. It tends to lay next to the sharpest tooth.”
“He was awfully flirty with Emma.” Snow remarked in puzzlement. “She was pressed against Killian nearly the entire time. Obviously her heart belongs to him. But that didn’t stop Drake from showing his interest.”
“I think we need to keep a close eye on that guy.” Charming said with a scowl. Father’s instinct warned that Drake would bring nothing but trouble in his daughter’s life.
Just as the Sun had slipped under the horizon, one figure walked up to another in the shadows of the alleyway near Granny’s Diner.
"I would stay away from Emma Swan, if I were you. Captain Jones won't allow anyone to take her away from him."
"Captain Jones is a mortal. An ordinary simple man. What is he compared to one such as myself?"
“Captain Killian Jones is far from being a simple man. The pirate captain has faced God's, demons, and monsters and survived. You may be powerful, but you are far from the worst thing Captain Hook has faced.
There is also Emma Swan. She is not going to be easily seduced away from the man she went to the underworld for. Especially not by a man spouting fancy words and performing magic tricks that she could beat. One would wonder what it is you think you can offer her? From what I heard, your grand castle is in ruin."
“There are other castles. From what I understand, there are two castles long since abandoned in another land. The former residents now live in this world. In this town. If I understand correctly, Emma Swan would inherit both, should something happen to those former owners.”
“Even you can not believe that you could charm a lady into accepting you after killing her entire family.”
“The blood lust made my other brides accept the same. I do not think Emma Swan will be any different.”
“I think you will find that Emma Swan will be very different. But you have a tendency to be far too confident in your own prowess to see reason. I still want to caution you. I feel I owe you something, since you once offered me immortality. Would have given it to me, if you hadn’t been outwitted.
That bloodlust only works if you're in power. Mina was willing to forgive you in regard to her dearest friend Lucy when you blinded her with your seduction. But once Jonathan Harker and Dr. Van Helsing sealed you in that tomb, she reverted back to her old self. And she hated you for what you did.”
“I was careless. I didn’t anticipate Harker’s strength of spirit. Or his devotion to Mina. I shall use more patience. And will pay closer attention to the players. I underestimated my opponents before. I will not again.”
The Count from Transylvania smiled. “Despite your insistent loyalty to the man who stands between me and the woman who holds my salvation, it is good to see you again, Renfield.”
“It’s good to see you again, Vlad. But it’s Smee, now. Renfield got the reputation of a lunatic. No one would take him seriously. I had to change my name and do business in another port, to escape the shadow of your story.”
“Perhaps the ending to this story will be more to each of our likeings”
Smee didn’t say it, but he was certain this story’s end would be the same as the previous one.
"Emma, I think Count Drake is dangerous." Killian spoke in earnest, hoping to get her to understand that she should stay away from the man.
"I know he is. I think he's a vampire." She said it so matter of factly, it made Killian’s jaw drop.
"Oh, come on. Count Drake. Count Dracula. It was pretty obvious. Plus, he stayed away from the windows? Out of direct sunlight?"
Killian wanted to kick himself. His jealousy had blinded him to the real threat.
Emma wrapped her arms around Killian's neck. "You really need to stop being jealous of every guy who looks like he might be my type. I have my perfect man, the man I love, right here. I would never do anything to mess that up."
"I do trust you, love. It's me I don't trust. I can never be rid of the thought that I don’t deserve you. That you could have someone better."
Emma opened her mouth to argue with him,
"I know what you're going to say, love. But knowing that you love me and think I'm a hero is far different than actually believing it myself."
Emma knew what Killian was saying. But she still wished she could find some way of convincing him how important he was to her.
He always knew what to say to help her understand how special she was to him. She wished she had his gift with words, so she could return the favor.
An idea on how to remind him that he was one of the most important people in her life came to her.
She might have been bad with words. But she was really good with her actions.
Drake snarled in frustration. He wanted to burst in through the window and tear the lovers apart. He vowed that he would find a way to kill Killian Jones, and take Emma Swan for himself.
Killian’s instincts warned him that the woman he loved was in danger. He couldn’t shake the feeling that all of these attacks were only a precursor to a much bigger problem.
He wanted to find out more about the beings that were called vampires. He believed that knowing your enemy was the best way in the path to defeating him.
And while he did not think that Whale was lying to the group, Killian was certain that the doctor did not actually know as much as he thought he did.
So Killian went to the one person who had traveled the many realms and has encountered various beings of power.
William Smee.
Killian suspected his former first mate knew more about what was going on than he had admitted.
Smee was not without his resources, he knew how to protect himself from the monsters that constantly invaded Storybrooke.
@cssns
#once upon a time#captain swan#emma swan#killian jones#emma x killian#emma x hook#cssns23#dracula in storybrooke#grimmswanfic
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
we collide with shoulder and steel: chapter 6/25
words: 530
rating: t, just to be safe
danny sees yuta again after seven years
also on ao3
a few days early cuz i'm gonna be out of town. this is my favorite chapter and i'm so sorry about that :D
He was at the far back of the expansive garden, where the clearing began to rise back up into a mountainside again. Where the soft, gentle green faded back into ashen dirt and bare tree branches.
Danny found him knelt before a bush of delicate, blooming lilacs.
He looked older. Despite the years that had passed, Danny expected to find the same boy. That was who he'd pictured, in all their imagined reunions. The same clean-shaven cheeks, same shaggy hair, pulled back from his face. All soft, rounded edges and bright smiles. Instead, he found a man in his place. One with a scruffy beard, hair shorter than he ever remembered it being, yet still flopping gently over his forehead. The Yuta before him was made up of long lines and sharp angles.
Creeping thyme had sprouted up around Yuta's knees, blanketing the path in delicate pink blooms. The dry, medicinal scent of spice kicked up around Danny's feet as he slowly stepped closer.
Yuta's corner of the garden was quiet, even in the stillness of the mountain. The miles and miles of echoing silence was muted by the blooming edelweiss and yarrow, a blanket against the sparse, empty expanse. Someone had taken great care to keep the beds there tidy, where the rest of the garden was lush and overgrown, pruning back the lilacs and tending to the rosemary. He could smell sweet pea and tarragon.
It was peaceful and beautiful, where Yuta's end wasn't.
His face was turned toward the sky, a mask of pain and fear, frozen forever in cold, smooth marble.
He'd seen many gardens in his travels, thick and crowded with all manner of berries and fruiting trees. Passed many fields of wildflowers, verdant life as far as he could see. Plains of sweet corn and wild grains, mountainsides covered with every color of granny's bonnet he could've imagined. But it had always been the beauty of a well-tended burial plot that had drawn his eye. There was something about the ferocity of a wild, ancient rose bush, a nigh-forgotten gravestone, and the care of a mourning hand. Something beautiful in that tragedy.
A cluster of delicate lilac blooms brushed the smooth, cool stone of Yuta's cheek, bobbing on a breeze too gentle for him to even notice.
Danny felt a familiar fissure open up inside his chest, a cold, gaping wound that had never quite healed right. Seven, almost eight years on, and it still felt as though his ribcage would crack open at the slightest pressure.
He had loved Yuta dearly, just as much as he hated him for leaving. They'd always planned to leave together, return triumphant—the way so many before had failed to do. They'd done everything together, been everything to each other. The boy who survived, and the boy who'd been left behind. The boy who stayed at Danny's side, held him through the cold loneliness, carried him when the weight of hunger brought him to his knees. The boy who walked into the woods, and didn't once look back.
Danny turned away from the cold, lonely statue of Wheeler Yuta, and picked his way back toward the ruined house.
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Monday in January
It's just a week before I start my new job at the library. I am cautiously optimistic. I know without a doubt that I can do the job and do it well, though I'm probably a bit rusty. My concern has been improving my wardrobe a bit. Lucky for me, the library has a very casual dress code, but I don't think they want me showing up in sweatshirts. That's been my uniform for far too long. I need one of those What Not to Wear interventions. Today I wore this sweatshirt, purchased from an Etsy shop.
It's actually perfect for the library because it's a nod to Mr. Darcy's insult to Elizabeth Bennett in Pride and Prejudice. I mean, that's literature, folks. Still, they'd like for me to wear business casual so I've been attempting to add a few pieces here and there. When taking stock of my closet I realized that I'm apparently a collector of black pants. Straight legs, boot cut, leggings, ponte, denim - you name it, I've got 'em. I need a couple pairs of nice indigo/dark wash jeans, they look good with just about anything. I have enough tops and sweaters to rotate. I doubt anyone will really notice what I'm wearing. But, because I have Xmas money and gift cards I traveled to Easton today to shop at the Kohl's there. It was so frustrating. I found plenty of pretty things, but the whole store looked like it had been ransacked. If I found a sweater or top I liked, the color I wanted wasn't available in my size. I refuse to buy anything I don't truly like, so if I want the cobalt blue but they've only got my size in beige, I'm not getting it. I spent hours in the store and finally came out with two tops and a necklace. I found a pair of shoes I liked but again, no 6 or 6 1/2 in stock. I came home and found them on the Kohl's website and ordered them. So that's enough of a happy ending for me. I'll always be tidy and clean, I'll accessorize and then slap on some lipstick. Granny chic!
I mentioned the sweatshirt I purchased on Etsy. I was gifted a very generous Etsy gift card for Christmas and I've had a ball spending it. Look at this treasure.
I ordered a beautiful journal, and had a quote and my initials added. I'm filling it with my thoughts, my poetry, and sometimes my melancholy ramblings. If you love it as much as I do, you can order your own here:
Choose the color, your own quote or saying (whatever inspires you) and get to writing. Wouldn't this be a lovely gift? It's beautifully made and quite thick.
I couldn't love it more. It's perfect for me during this season of my life. I am truly out looking for myself.
The mister is upstairs on a Zoom photo club meeting, I think they have a guest speaker or something. I'm downstairs with both kitties enjoying the quiet. I just downloaded a couple of books from the library so I've got some good reading for the stormy day ahead.
I'm okay with everything but a power outage. Let the storm rage, but I'm going to need to heat up my soup, ya' know?
And speaking of books, I'm considering joining the Modern Prairie Book Club. Melissa Gilbert, who played Laura/Halfpint Ingalls on Little House on the Prairie has a company called Modern Prairie - I loooove all of it, the cookware, the home goods, the clothing, the recipes, everything.
I absolutely love the Modern Prairie Instagram account -
instagram
so of course I was intrigued by the book club. She mentioned revisiting old books that we all read once upon a time and discussing how we view them now, decades later. I laughed when I saw the first book choice.
Then I got nostalgic (it's been more than fifty years for me!!) and then I became curious. I think I'll give it a whirl. What's the worst that can happen, I'll change my mind and go back to reading Lisa Jewell or Liane Moriarty? No big deal. Best case scenario is that I'm able to recapture some of that sweetness and simplicity.
So that's where I'm at on this quiet Monday evening in January - optimistic about the new job, but yearning for the past at the same time. I suppose that's normal for most of us, isn't it? Looking forward with hope while trying to hang onto the best of what was.
Sending out loads of love tonight. I hope it finds you and wraps you in a hug.
Stay safe, stay well.
XOXO,
Nancy
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Where the Flowers Grow
Summary: Edwin takes stock of the situation in Toreguarde's Garden of Galana while the city is besieged by demonic armies.
Words: 937
Tags: @druidx @homesteadchronicles @flashfictionfridayofficial @asher-orion-writes,@warriorbookworm, @odysseywritings, @blind-the-winds, @thesorcerersapprentice,@writeblrcafe
Warnings: blood, injuries, mention of a maimed puppy
Notes: Set during the closing chapters of the Destiny's New Servants campaign. The party have toddled off somewhere else in the meantime
It had been days since anyone in the city had seen the sun. Ash and soot from the hundreds of fires that had cropped up since Harbinger's arrival choked out the sky, covering Toreguarde in a shroud of hazy grey.
While the Garden of Galana had been spared the horrific devastation wrought upon the area in the vicinity of the wizard's tower, it yet suffered the after effects. A three inch layer of sooty ash covered the once verdant garden, masking the beauty of Galana's grace; hiding it from those who could find comfort and solace in the surety of nature's survival in the face of such a cataclysm.
Edwin sighed, brushing soot and freshly fallen ash away from the leaves and flower buds of the wisteria that made up his church. He glanced up at the sky, staring at the roiling green tinged clouds that were barely visible through the thick haze of smoke.
The Abouna was no stranger to such a sight; the sky had roiled in a similar manner only ten years before, at the height of the Demon War. Unbidden, memories of that horrific time flashed into his mind.
Edwin couldn't help the scream that tore from his throat as Granny Apple's trunk split, then shattered with a horrific Crack! The demonic creature thing now birthed from the treant chittered as it bore down upon his friends.
Edwin shook his head brusquely and forced the memory back, closing his eyes. No, there was no time to dwell on past horrors when there were likely yet more to come in the present.
A soft 'thwump' caused the man to open his eyes once more, only to widen as he saw who had just arrived. He rushed to Selene's side as she pushed the child and small puppy she had brought with her, seemingly completely unaware of the blood dripping into her eyes and down one arm that hung limply at her side.
"Hey Edwin." The wizard greeted, "Figured you had space for a couple more." She added, using her good arm to gesture to the young boy. Edwin wrestled a flare of concerned anger back, opting instead to direct his attention to the boy, who clutched a maimed puppy in his arms,
"T-there were big mean bird things. Travis was trying to protect me." He hiccoughed. Edwin glanced up at Selene, who waved off his glare,
"I'm fine, it's probably not as bad as it looks." She said. Edwin arched an eyebrow at his partner, then sighed. So she was going to be stubborn about it. He could lecture her later, for now, there was a very heroic puppy to save.
Edwin kneeled down next to the boy,
"It's alright, you're both safe now." He said quietly, "Are you hurt?" He asked. The boy shook his head,
"No, this nice wizard got their attention and fought them away." He replied, "But Travis –"
Edwin didn't need to hear any more, his hands already moving over the puppy's body. The Abouna closed his eyes, muttering a prayer under his breath, allowing Galana's grace to flow from him into the barely breathing animal.
Selene sat heavily on a nearby rock, smiling at the flowers that bloomed around the cleric as he worked. She glanced around the rest of the garden, an unhappy grimace making its way onto her face. The garden was her second favourite place to retreat to when the responsibilities of her position became too much to bear. She cast her gaze back over to Edwin, a beaming smile replacing her grimace as the puppy in the boy's arms whined and yapped. The flowers that had bloomed around the Abouna remained for the briefest of moments, before crumbling as the bearded man stood.
"Right, I suggest you head inside and speak to the woodling woman in the refectory about getting you both some food and water." Edwin told the now smiling child. The boy nodded, gripped the puppy tightly, and rushed into the wisteria building.
Edwin dusted off his vestments as he stood, heaving a sigh before rounding on Selene,
"I seem to recall being told that the Triumverate were to remain on the backlines during this seige." He sniped. Selene rolled her eyes, wincing as Edwin lifted her injured arm,
"And you expected me to actually listen?" She retorted, "I might be a squishy in comparison to some of our friends, Edwin, but I'm hardly a pushover in a fight!"
Edwin glanced up at Selene, his expression softening,
"No. I suppose not." He agreed, "I forget how resilient you are sometimes." He looked around the garden, a slow smile creeping onto his face as he spotted the climbing rose that had just started to bloom despite the severe lack of sunlight for these past weeks.
Resilience. The ability to endure despite hardship. If there was one thing that nature, and mortals alike were good at, it was surviving. Edwin tutted as he reached up to Selene's head,
"But just because you are, doesn't mean you should go taunting a flock of Vrocks all by yourself."
"There were only six of them. All it took was taking a couple of scratches while I fired up a decent Chain Lightning."
"'Only' six?! And I wouldn't call these scratches! The one on your arm was less than an inch from severing something important!"
Selene huffed a half irritated, half amused snort. Well, if he was ranting like this, he had to be feeling better. And it was worth it to see him inadvertently cause the wildflowers at her feet to grow and bloom, even if only temporarily.
#aquadestinyswriting#writeblrcafe#flash fiction friday#blood tw#injuries#hurt animal#the wizard's tale#selene frigidwake#edwin goodwin
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
"It Now Belongs To You" by kazoosandfannypacks
Chapter 4/10: Captain Hook Returns
Pairing: CaptainSwan
Rating: T
Word Count: (1.2K/10.6K)
Summary: When Emma and Killian receive a pair of magic beans as a wedding gift, they take a voyage on the Jolly Roger for their honeymoon- but a wrench is thrown into their romantic getaway when they run into a notorious pirate who's staked a claim on the Jolly Roger.
Chapter Summary: Upon Emma's persistence, Killian tracks down Black Beard in an attempt to outwit him once again and escape with The Roger.
Tags: post-canon, canon compliant, fluff, no smut, suggestive themes, alcohol, gambling, self indulgent fluff with a sprinkling of angst
Author's notes: part of the opening dialogue of this chapter was actually part of the dialogue in my concept notes for this fic, so like. that's special.
Taglist: @zahara @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @tiganasummertree @anmylica @teamhook @undercaffinatednightmare @gingerchangeling @lonelyspectator @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie [if you'd like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]
Also on Ao3!
Despite the grave stakes of their quest, Killian couldn’t stop smiling at his wife. She was resourceful, brave, fast-thinking, determined, street-smart, beautiful, savvy- everything his pirate heart could dream of finding in a woman- and somehow she loved him- him of all people!
“You seem awfully chipper,” Emma said, “for a guy who might be losing his most prized possession.”
“I was just thinking,” Killian said, “how did I manage to woo the most amazing, beautiful, perfect woman in all the realms?”
“Can’t say for certain,” Emma blushed, “But it probably helps that you’re amazing, handsome, and perfect yourself.”
“I’m far from perfect.”
“You’re perfect for me.”
He kissed the top of her head and took her hand in his as they walked down the street. Before long, they found themselves in front of the pub.
"Now, love," Killian said. "This is a rather unsavory joint- full of the worst sorts of pirates. Watch yourself."
"You don't think I can handle a few filthy pirates?" Emma smiled. "I've already stolen the heart of the filthiest pirate in the realms."
He smiled and booped her nose with his hook. "And that's why he wants you to be careful."
“And you’re sure you’re up to the task?” Emma asked.
“Of course, love.” Killian said, not sure he believed it but hoping Emma would. “Why wouldn’t I be?,
“Killian.”
“I’m not sure.” Killian corrected. “But we’ve faced higher stakes before, and always come out on top.”
He put up the hood on her cloak, wishing she hadn’t come along with him to such a seedy joint, but knowing that she’d’ve followed him either way- best to bring her on his own terms.
“Now remember,” he said, “don’t come in until a few moments after I do, don’t watch us too closely, and…”
“Stay out of trouble, I know.” Emma said. She stepped up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Good luck.” she said.
“Aye, love.” he smiled with all the confidence he could fake and walked into the pub.
Upon first glance, he was hit with two feelings- the first: remembering that this place used to bring him so much pleasure, and the second: wondering why this place used to bring him so much pleasure. The lighting was subpar, the smell of gross food and alcohol unbearably strong, especially when mingled with the smell of dirty pirates, and the shanty crew playing by the bar was off-key- though he supposed if your rum was strong enough, none of that would matter.
Still, as fondly as he remembered this place, he almost wished they were back in Storybrooke, at Granny’s, sitting down with grilled cheese and onion rings- and cinnamon hot cocoa.
“I understand now why people’ve been saying I’ve gone soft.” Killian thought, “Wonder of all wonders is why I used to take that as an insult.”
He'd hardly taken a few steps into the pub when he heard a wench call out "Girls, looks like Hook's back!" and he was immediately flocked by women, tavern wenches, half of whom he'd remembered being, ahem, a patron of at least one night, and the other half- well, just because he didn't remember it doesn't mean it didn't happen. Apparently though, they remembered him, and they were on him like spiders on a fly.
The old Captain Hook would've doubtless appreciated this kind of attention and flirted with each of the wenches individually in the seven seconds since they'd surrounded him, but the new Captain Hook was different, and, as it stood, their attention almost made him feel cheap and uncomfortable, especially knowing Emma was right outside- and hoping she wasn't watching through the window.
His plan relied on two things- the first being that Black Beard had already begun his celebratory drinks- a drunken opponent, or even a half drunken one- is far easier to win against.
But the other card up his sleeve was his own reputation, and to save that, he couldn't simply brush off these maidens surrounding him- you walk into a pirate's pub and start telling the wenches you're off the market, and there goes your entire reputation.
"Unfortunately, ladies," he said, "I'm here on business today- and not your kind of business I'm afraid."
Some of them giggled and a few rolled their eyes, but for the most part they just winked as they slinked away, one or two saying something about sticking around "in case you change your mind."
Killian rolled his eyes at the ceiling for only half a second before heading to the boisterous table in the back- a table he could tell was patronized by Black Beard's crew.
"What are we playing tonight, mates?" Killian asked.
The crew laughed a little when they saw him, and Black Beard smiled.
"So, here's the newlywed." Black Beard sneered. "Your first mate told me you've gone soft and settled down."
"Settled down, yes." Killian said, shoving one of the men out of their seat so he could sit across from Black Beard, "but few men have called me 'soft' and lived to tell about it."
He picked up the cup in front of the guy next to him and took a sip- not that he especially wanted his cheap ale, but the effect of barging in on someone else's game, stealing a seat and a swig of their drink- no one could call him soft now.
Black Beard picked up the deck of cards in front of them and shuffled it.
"I take it you're after the Roger now?" Black Beard asked. "How's the new wench feel about that?"
Killian clenched his fist under the table, about to kill Black Beard right then and there for speaking ill of Emma, but instead he kept his cool.
"I'm still her Captain." Killian said, leaving the "her" ambiguous as to being the Jolly Roger or his new bride.
"Roger's not yours anymore, mate." Blackbeard said.
"Smee made an interesting point when I returned aboard." Killian said, pulling a piece of metal out of his pocket and twirling it between his fingers, "Something about only needing one piece of the ship to track it back down, anywhere it is."
"You wouldn't know how to use that kind of magic." Black Beard reached across the table for the piece of rigging.
Killian laughed as he grasped the piece more firmly. "The realms I roam these days, a locator spell is an average Tuesday. And have you forgotten I survived two hundred years on Neverland magic? And has the news not reached this realm that I spent half a month as The Dark One, and have quite literally been to hell and back? If anyone's messing with magic he doesn't understand, it's you."
"So it seems we're at a standstill, ever chasing each other across the realm."
"Not if one of us leaves it." Killian said. "I myself have acquired a magic bean, and with it, I can be out of this realm aboard my ship anytime I wish."
"So why haven't you left yet?"
"Because I don't wish to leave yet. But, I can't have washouts like you tailing me across the high seas- terribly bad form. So, I propose a new bet- the winner gets the Roger, both pieces we have here, and the magic bean to get her out of here.
"Now how do you know I don't have a bean of my own?"
"You'd've used it to leave Neverland last month if you had one. How long did it take for your men to come find you?"
Killian took a sip of the ale again, smiling at Black Beard's frustration.
"One round." Black Beard sneered. "Winner take all."
"Deal." Killian said, and he cut the deck, and the game began.
#once upon a time#captain swan#fanfic#killian jones#emma swan#once upon a time season 6#post canon#fic rec#kazzy writes#black beard ouat#otp: try something new darling
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Like A Girl (Like A Man)
Like A Dream (Like A Plan)
Shifty Powers x OFC
Three: Innocence Retained
Summary: For once in her life, she would like to have done something. But at the same time, she’s just grateful that she doesn’t have to worry about it anymore. The problem got taken care of, no matter who came out of it a hero.
A/N: Another early update because I have no self control and no concept of what day it is anymore! 🤗
The ramps (or wasti) that Zenie refers to near the end of the chapter are a type of wild onion that are popular in the southeast.
Warnings: mentioned animal death
Taglist: @latibvles @liebgotts-lovergirl @mrs-murder-daddy @lieutenant-speirs
North Carolina, 1938
Stars shine brighter on cold nights. Zenie has noticed this several times throughout her life, on nights that she’s spent lying on her side in bed, staring out the window at the dark world on the other side of the glass.
Being out under the stars is different. They look so close that she feels like she could reach up and touch them. It’s a beautiful distraction.
Her hands are cold. Summer nights have a reputation for bringing a chill with them, and this one with its dazzling stars and enormous moon is especially so. But Zenie has to remain vigilant as she watches the chicken coop. Even with the cool ground freezing her legs. Even with the stars calling to her from above. She has to watch and be ready. She readjusts her grip on Matthew’s old rifle and sighs through her nose.
All her vigilance is for nothing. All her practice shooting down old bottles from the fence so that she could defend the chickens against whatever kept leaving pawprints and scratch marks on the door of their coop doesn’t amount to anything.
She trudges back into the house the next morning, sore and cold and exhausted, and with nothing to show. Well, that’s not true – she has the live chickens, but it’s not like she did anything for them. Not really.
Granny is gliding about the kitchen when Zenie comes in through the screen door. She’s got eggs and bacon already on the table, and she immediately pours a cup of coffee that she hands to Zenie with a smile.
“Ma, Zenie shouldn’t have coffee,” Mama says as she removes a tray of fluffy biscuits from the oven. “It makes her all shaky and distracted.”
“You mean more so than usual,” Marilyn quips. She holds out her own mug and kisses Granny on the cheek as she fills it for her. When Zenie sticks her tongue out at her, she returns the gesture before smiling, ever prim and proper, and taking her seat at the table.
“She needs to get warmed up,” Granny insists. “Poor child looks half frozen.”
Zenie tries to sip the coffee. She can’t taste the bitterness of it for how hot it is. “Yeah, and all for nothing. I watched all night, and nothing ever showed up.”
Marilyn passes Zenie the plate with the biscuit that she’s just buttered. “Whatever it is, it’ll probably be back soon.” She gives Zenie that look she always has when she’s teasing – a barely restrained half-smile and eyes that are full of laughter. “Guess you’ll just have to become nocturnal and stay out there every night, Zee. Gosh, I sure will miss seeing you.”
“Ha ha,” Zenie deadpans around a mouthful of biscuit.
The sound of an engine rumbling pulls their attention toward the window. Outside, gravel pops and snaps as a truck pulls up in front of the house.
Conversation ceases as all four of the women in the kitchen immediately make their way over to the door, crowding around to see who gets out of the truck. Mama is already pushing the door open when Zenie’s father calls out from the other room.
“Who is it?” he asks over the sound of the radio. “Who just pulled up?” His chair never creaks, signaling that he’s making no move to get up and come check himself. “Lily, who’s outside?”
The three McGlamery women and their matriarch are already out the door, tuning out his questions the way that they’ve all learned to tune out the sounds of his loud radio broadcasts over the past year. By the time that Dr Dills from next door is shutting the door of his truck behind him, they’re already in the yard, the screen door shut behind them, separating the two worlds.
“Good mornin’!” the doctor chirps.
“Good morning,” they all echo.
Mama steps forward. “It’s nice to see you, Dr Dills. How are you this morning?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” he says with a smile. A big smile that’s a little obscured by the curls of his white beard. Zenie has always liked their neighbor, because he seems to always be in a good mood and seems to mean what he says. He’s sturdy, both in his physical build and his demeanor, and his forearms have tan lines from all his afternoons out in his field. It doesn’t seem likely that he’ll ever just give up and wilt away like some people’s fathers.
“Just wanted to drop in and let y’all know that a fox tried to get into our chicken coop last night,” Dr Dills continues. “Daniel managed to pop him. Don’t think anyone has to worry about that little menace anymore this summer.”
A fox! That’s what’s been trying to get the chickens. And the one night that Zenie had been determined to put a stop to its tricks, it decided to try its luck next door instead.
Well, she tells herself. At least I won’t have to spend another night out in the cold.
“Good,” Marilyn bites her lip and clasps her hands behind her back as she nods. “Good for Danny. He must be pleased.”
Dr Dills laughs, loud and jovial. “Oh, he is! We’re not likely to hear the end of it for the rest of the summer.”
“Thank you for letting us know,” Mama says. Zenie and Marilyn echo her appreciation and Dr Dills smiles.
“No trouble at all. I’ll see y’all later. Take care.” They head back inside when he backs out of the driveway, Zenie’s father’s questions about who was outside punctuating the sounds of tires spitting gravel as their neighbor leaves.
Mama immediately begins fixing a plate to take to her husband. She pats Zenie on top of the head as she leaves. “Still be careful with the chickens, please. Watch them carefully when you let them out. The fox might not be the only one after them.”
“I will,” Zenie promises. Following them around the yard and catching them when they try to wander too far is nothing compared to sitting on the ground in the cold all night, staring at one fixed spot, waiting for something to happen.
“Darn, I was so looking forward to having my own room,” Marilyn sighs, even though there’s a grin on her face. “Hope you’re pleased with yourself.”
“Oh I am.” She can’t contain her smile. She tries to hide it with her coffee cup when she says in a quiet, sing-song voice that’s supposed to mimic her sister’s, “Danny must be pleased.”
It’s a miracle that Marilyn doesn’t resort to murder then and there – probably only because Granny is about to take her seat on the other side of the table. She does snatch the biscuit out of Zenie’s hand, though, putting it back on her own plate and giving her a sharp look that cannot mask the embarrassment on her face.
There’s a special sense of satisfaction that comes from intentionally upsetting a sibling. If she weren’t already, now Zenie really is pleased.
The smell of moist dirt being turned up is one of the best in the world. It reminds Zenie to enjoy the few months when the earth comes to life and she can enjoy her time away from school, outside and content.
“Oooh, look at these,” Granny says, holding up some of the plumpest ramps that Zenie has ever seen. She tosses them into her basket. “We’ll use those tonight.”
Zenie would have accompanied Granny anywhere this afternoon. She likes spending time with her, and it’s aways nice to get her all to herself. But digging ramps – or wasti, as Granny tells her they’re called in Cherokee – is a real treat, because it gets them away from the house for a bit. In the small patch of woods behind the barn, it’s just the two of them, and Zenie feels like she can speak freely, secrets and thoughts spilling easily from her lips without consequence. They’ll have to go back to the house eventually, but Granny will fry the ramps up with some potatoes, and it will feel like a delicious consolation prize.
With a sigh, Granny sits back on her heels and looks up at the sunlight filtering down through the canopy of trees above them. She sets down her shovel and carefully lowers herself to a seated position. The smile she gives Zenie is warmer than the summer weather.
“Can I ask you something?”
Zenie pauses with her shovel halfway in the ground. It doesn’t sound like she’s in trouble. Still, sometimes her father has started lectures with that sentence, so she can’t be sure.
“Hawa,” she says, partly because she knows it pleases Granny when she makes an effort to speak Tsalagi, and partly because she hopes that might soften the blow of whatever is about to be said.
As if she can read her thoughts, Granny assures her. “You’re not in trouble, I promise.
“I was just thinking about the fox. I know you care about those chickens. You were so determined to protect them. Are you disappointed that Danny Dills got the fox and not you?”
Is she? She’s a little upset that she stayed up all night in the cold and didn’t get to prove herself. She’d like to have something to prove her devotion to the safety of the chickens. For once in her life, she would like to have done something. But at the same time, she’s just grateful that she doesn’t have to worry about it anymore. The problem got taken care of, no matter who came out of it a hero.
“Ayoheli,” she admits. A little.
“Hmmmm.” Granny tilts her head, studying her. After a pause she asks, “Do you think you could have done it though?”
“Done what?”
“Killed the fox. Do you think you could have done it?”
Zenie sets down her shovel and thinks long and hard about it. She’s never killed an animal before. Her father used to take Matthew hunting, back before everything went sour, but even then it was strictly a boy’s activity – no girls allowed. She would like to think that she would have been willing to do it. She can picture squeezing the trigger . . . but she doesn’t know how she would feel after that.
“I think so.”
“You do?”
She reconsiders. “I wouldn’t want to kill one for fun, like when our dad used to take Matthew hunting. But if I had to protect my chickens, I think that I could do it.”
“Hawa.” Granny nods. She shrugs. “I was just curious.”
“Why?”
Her grandmother shrugs again. “You’re an incredibly loyal girl, Zena. I think you would do almost anything for those you care about.” She shifts her weight, leaning closer, like she’s going to tell Zenie a secret. “Just remember to take care of yourself. Sometimes that’s who you really have to stay loyal to.”
Nothing bothers the chicken coop for the rest of the summer. Zenie gets to pass her nights warm under her blankets, safe in her room while they’re safe in their coop. There is no more discussion of foxes and what might have been. Yet some nights when Zenie can’t sleep, she stares out the window and thinks about Granny’s question.
If it really came down to it, could she pull the trigger?
#omg y'all finally get to see the Marilyn face claim - her pinterest board now has greater purpose#Hyperventilating thinking about *the* D-Day chapter that comes next btw#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers#band of brothers x oc#shifty powers x original female character#shifty powers x ofc#shifty powers#like a girl (like a man)#my writing#oc zenie mcglamery#hbo war fanfic
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Are You Satisfied?
Chapter Five
Summary: Elvis takes care of June after the fiasco that was Tramp Stamp Grannies.
Warnings: Being hungover, implicit talks of sex, power dynamics (?).
Word Count: 1.6k
Are You Satisfied? Masterlist
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
--------
The morning after Tramp Stamp Grannies, Elvis got up early, knowing June would most likely have a hangover. So, against June’s rules, Elvis made his way into the kitchen and made something simple. Just eggs and bacon because he really didn’t know how to make anything else, that was his Mama’s department. He reminisced about what his Mama would make when his Dad was hungover, something with lots of carbs. Usually two pieces of buttered toast, eggs, sausage, and bacon. Now, Elvis wouldn’t make that much because who knew how June’s appetite would be but he was proud that nothing was burned after he finished.
Once he perfected the plating, trying to make it look as appetizing as can be, Elvis started to scale the stairs to June’s room. He stopped abruptly as he heard singing behind the door. He thought she would still be out, let alone conscious enough to be singing….
Days seem sometime as if they’ll never end
Sun digs its heels to taunt you
But after sunlit days, one thing stays the same
Rises the moon
Elvis felt entranced by the light, almost wispy voice. He blinked, running a hand through his hair as he realized it was June’s voice. He’s never heard anything like it and he wanted to hear more but maybe there was a reason June decided to never bring up the fact she could sing. Was she embarrassed? She shouldn’t be, her voice was beautiful and he could sense that there was some power behind those whispered lines. Elvis may not be classically trained or know the words for certain things but he felt them in his soul that’s all that mattered to him.
The man took a breath and made his way back downstairs, not wanting to interrupt whatever magic that was going on in June’s room. As Elvis ate his own breakfast, he could still faintly hear the sound of June’s voice and he wondered if she even cared he might be able to hear her.
Soon, though, June walked down the stairs in a simple t-shirt, some shorts, and glasses with some strands of her wet hair in her face. She was showering? And Elvis heard her through the running water? The man choked a little when he saw her, quickly looking away as a blush started to cover his cheeks and nose. Elvis was maybe a little too into June that it was starting to hinder his everyday life. Living with her was like hell…. But in the best way possible.
“I thought we both agreed, no Elvis in the kitchen?” June asked, cocking an eyebrow as she caught sight of the plate sitting on the counter. She let out a small chuckle, as if he would ever really listen to her anyway. But she had no idea just how badly Elvis wanted to listen to her.
Elvis let out a cough and rubbed at his neck, “Well, ah, I thought it’d be nice since you ‘ere down for the count yesterday. Didn’t know if you ‘ere gonna be hungover or not.” He explained softly, looking up at June with a hopeful expression.
The girl visibly softened at his words. He wanted to take care of her. In all honesty, she didn’t remember much from the night before. But she could feel how drunk she was, her body ached but she was pretty good at acting like she was fine. In some ways, June was an actor. She couldn’t cry if she was yelled at by a higher up, she had to act fine if someone said a nasty comment about her, etc. But it seemed Elvis made it his mission to try and break down her walls when she was around him. And it was working. June couldn’t be bothered to care either, he was nice to be around.
“Thanks.” June said softly as she sat down next to Elvis. She hasn’t let anyone truly care for her like that in forever, she didn’t know why or when it started but it did.
Elvis flashed her a smile, “Anything for you.” Oh, how true that was.
—--------
“Why do you need a guitar again? I have like ten, could’ve taken your pick.” June complained softly, running a hand through her hair. Unlike most times they’ve gone out together, June was not as polished this time. She wore a simple black band tee, some gray sweatpants, gym shoes, her glasses with no makeup on underneath, and her hair was up in a clip. Very unpolished compared to Elvis’ button ups and cotton pants.
Elvis rolled his eyes when June asked him for the tenth time. “Because I’d like my own, darlin’. Somethin’ I can call mine. Y’know, that screams me ‘stead of you.” He explained as they entered the music store, a bell ringing above the door.
June hummed softly, realizing what he meant. The only real things that belonged to Elvis were the clothes he arrived in, everything else must’ve felt weird at first to call his. She pursed her lips for a moment, knowing a guitar would be expensive but if it made him happy, she wouldn’t mind much. It wasn’t like June was poor by any means, in fact, she was quite well off by LA standards.
“Okay well, I’ll follow your lead.” June shrugged, eyes catching onto some cool guitar straps. It’s been a while since she’s been in a music store, maybe it was good for her too.
Elvis walked around the music shop with June following, looking through all the guitars. Most were electric but he was looking for something much more classic looking. He pursed his lips, they were all beautiful with a multitude of different colors but not quite what he was looking for. Then June decided to break from him, eyes catching onto something while Elvis eyed a few other guitars.
“Hey! EP, c’mere!” June's voice came from the other end of the room.
As Elvis approached her, he caught sight of the guitar in her hands. It was a beautiful deep, wooden color that was almost black with a silvery white pickguard and other white accents. Overall, it screamed him. A dark figure with glittery accents. Yeah, that sounded like Elvis. He gently took the guitar in his hands, humming as he felt the weight of it. Hell, it even felt right in his hands.
June watched Elvis, pursing her lips as she crossed her arms. “This is the one.” She didn’t even need to ask, she could already tell.
She understood the perfect guitar was a perfect reflection of the player and she was watching it happen in real time. You could always tell who played a guitar by just looking at the instrument. Elvis was no different. Elvis Presley practically radiated from the guitar, that’s why she picked it up in the first place.
—--------
The next day was mostly uneventful, June had to go to work and do the usual. Be disposable for multiple artists until the end of the day. The woman let out a sigh as she entered her apartment, a delicious smell catching her attention. That…. Couldn’t be Elvis, could it? Sure he kind of redeemed himself with the eggs yesterday morning but she would be concerned if he couldn’t do that. June warily stepped into her apartment, blinking as she was hit with a sight she could have never expected.
A nice looking candlelit dinner with Elvis off to the side, wearing a simple white lace button-up tucked into black slacks and a pair of some of the glossiest shoes June has ever seen. She was dazed. Where did he get those clothes? Did she buy those for him? If she did, she didn’t remember.
“June! You’re early.” Elvis exclaimed, almost sounding panicked as he coughed and looked away for a moment to compose himself. “Made some dinner. I remembered one’a my Mama’s recipes I thought you’d like.” He explained shyly, running a hand through his hair to try and smooth it down but, as June learned, it never did what Elvis wanted.
June looked from the table to Elvis, a small smile making its way to her face. “This looks great, Elvis.” She said softly. Maybe the ban on Elvis from the kitchen would be lifted because he kept breaking it anyway. “What, uh, spurred this on?” She asked with a smug look in her eyes as if she knew.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the way Elvis looked at her and June was hellbent on ignoring it for the first few weeks until she started to realize what she was feeling too. She looked at him that way too. As if he was the world. As much as June was giving him new experiences, he was doing the same for her. Usually, she was a pessimist with everything going on in the world but she was getting a more optimistic perspective with him in her life.
There were also the siren eyes. Y’know that look was always blatant.
“You’ve been…. takin’ care of me an’I guess I wanna do the same.” Elvis explained, the blush on his cheeks spreading to the tips of his ears and even down his neck as if it was a wildfire started by June.
June’s eyes softened at his words and pursed her lips before she pressed them against his cheek, gently setting a hand on Elvis’ shoulder. Mayb, sometimes she’d forget what it was like to be taken care of for once. She used to live alone in an apartment in the middle of one of the most popular cities in the world, she had to learn to not rely on anyone else and be independent.
But learning that she didn’t always need to be independent or be the strong one was something she didn’t know she needed.
--------
taglist (open)
@jihyhoes
@hheartbreakhotell
@harleyscheekheart
@pumkiinpasties
@misspygmypie
@mirandastuckinthe80s
@hnch33rios
@djconde58
@marrrrrr0
#oc#austin butler#austin butler!elvis#elvis movie#elvis 2022#elvis presley#austin butler!elvis presley x oc#elvis presley x oc#june monroe#are you satisfied?#austin butler x oc#darren criss#tramp stamp grannys
20 notes
·
View notes
Note
Into the woods au
Once upon a time, in a far-off Kingdom
There lay a small village at the edge of the woods
Lili: I wish
(And in this village)
More than anything
(Lived a young maiden)
More than life, more than jewels
(A carefree young lad)
Neil: I wish... More than life!
Mabel/Coraline: (And a parentless girl) I wish
(With her friend)
Mabel: More than anything.
Coraline: More than the moon.
Mabel: I wish
Lili: The King is giving a Festival (more than life)
(I wish) I wish to go to the Festival
(More than riches) and the ball
Neil: I wish my cow would give us some milk
(More than anything)
Mabel: I wish I had parents (please, pal) I want a mom and dad (squeeze, pal)
Lili: I wish to go to the Festival (I wish you could give us some milk)
Mabel: I wish I might have a home, I wish...
Priscilla: You wish to go to the Festival?
(The poor girl's parents had died)
You, Lili, the Festival?
You wish to go to the Festival?
The Festival? The King's Festival?
(And now she lived with her stepmother)
The Festival? Ha!
(Who had two daughters of her own)
Pacifica: Look at your nails!
Siobhan: Look at your dress!
Pacifica: People would laugh at you
Lili: Nevertheless, I still want to go to the Festival!
Priscilla/Pacifica/Priscilla: And dance before the prince
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
(All three were beautiful of face, but vile and black of heart)
(And the boy's sister)
Winnie: I wish
(Well, she was at her wit's end)
I wish my bro were not a fool
I wish my house was not a mess
I wish the cow was full of milk
I wish the walls were full of gold
I wish a lot of things
Winnie: What in heaven's name are you doing with the cow inside the house?!
Neil: I thought if he got nice and warm, he might produce some milk.
Winnie: It's a she, how many times do I have to tell you only shes can give milk?
(Then there was a young boy who always wore a black cape)
Wybie: I wish
It's not for me, it's for my granny in the woods
A loaf of bread, please
To bring my poor old hungry granny in the woods
Just a loaf of bread, please
Priscilla: Lili, if you can pick up these lentils, and finish your chores on time, then you may go to the ball with us. Come along ladies.
Pacifica: Yes, mother
Siobhan: Good luck
Lili: Come, little birds
Down from the eaves, and the leaves, over fields, out of castles and ponds
Neil: Now, squeeze, pal
Lili: Quick, little birds
Flick through the ashes
Pick and peck but swiftly sift through the ashes, into the pot.
Winnie: Now listen to me well, Neil, Milky-White must be taken to market
Neil: Sis, no, he's the best cow in the world.
Winnie: Was, she has been dry for weeks now with no food or money, and no choice but to sell her!
Neil: But Milky-White's my best friend!
Winnie: Look at her
There are bugs on her dugs
There are flies in her eyes
There's a lump on her rump
Big enough to be a hump (but)
We've no time to sit and dither
While her wither's wither with her
And no one keeps a cow for a friend
Sometimes I wonder what's goin' on in that head of yours.
Wybie: Into the woods, it's time to go, I hate to leave, I have to, though
Into the woods, it's time, and so, I must begin my journey
Into the woods and through the trees to where I am expected, ma'am
Into the woods to grandmother's house
Into the woods to grandmother's house
Pepa: Are you certain of your way?
Wybie: The way is clear, the light is good
I have no fear, nor no one should
The woods are just trees, the trees are just wood
I sort of hate to ask it, but do you have a basket?
Pepa: Yes, we do.
Camilo: I don't suppose you're planning on saving some for the rest of us.
Felix: Ah, leave the boy be. Now, don't stray and be late, alright?
Camilo: Yeah, stay out for as long as you’d like. *Wybie takes his arepa* Dios-!
Pepa: Leave it.
Camilo: You always let him steal seconds!
Wybie: Into the woods and down the dell, the path is straight, I know it well
Into the woods, and who can tell what's waiting on the journey?
Into the woods to bring some bread to granny who is sick in bed
Never can tell what lies ahead, for all that I know, she's already dead
But into the woods
Into the woods, into the woods to grandmother's house, and home before dark
Priscilla: Lili! Get up here!
Lili: Fly, birds, back to the sky...
Priscilla: We're waiting!
Lili: Back to the eaves, and the leaves, and the fields, and the-
Pacifica: Hurry up and do my hair, Lili
Are you really wearing that?
Siobhan: Here, I found a little tear, Lili
Can't you hide it with a hat?
Lili: You look beautiful.
Siobhan: I know (she means me), no she didn't
Lili: Mother said be good, father said be nice
That was always their advice
So be nice, Lili, good, Lili
Nice, good, good, nice (tighter!)
What's the good of being good if everyone is blind
Always leaving you behind?
Never mind, Lila, kind, Lila
Nice, good, nice, kind, good, nice
Pacifica: OW! Not that right! CLOD!
*Back at the bakery, there’s a knock at the door*
Mabel: Who might that be?
Coraline: The last loaf was just sold!
Mabel: ... It's the witch from next-door.
*Agatha makes her dramatic entrance*
Coraline: We have no bread.
Agatha: I don't want your parents' bread.
Mabel: Then what is it you wish?
Agatha: It's not what I wish, it's what you wish. Still no family to call your own? Well, it'll stay like that. Unless you do exactly as I say. In three days time, a blue-moon will appear. Only then can the curse be undone.
Mabel: What curse?
Agatha: The one I placed on your bloodline.
Mabel: What are you talking about?
Agatha: In the past, when you were no more than a babe. Your father brought his young wife and you to your old cottage. They were a lovely couple. But not lovely neighbors. You see, your mother was with child. And she developed an unusual appetite. She admired my beautiful garden, and she told your father that what she wanted more than anything in the world, was
Greens, greens, nothing but greens
Parsley, peppers, cabbages and celery
Asparagus, and watercress, and fiddleferns, and lettuce
He said, "All right", but it wasn't, quite
'Cause I caught him in the autumn in my garden one night
He was robbing me, taking from me
Rooting through my rutabaga
Raiding my arugula and ripping up the rampion
My champion! My favorite!
I should have laid a spell on him right there!... I could have turned him into stone. Or a dog... Or a chair. But I let him have the rampion, I'd lots to spare. In return, however, I said, "Fair is fair. You can let me have the baby that your wife will bear... And we'll call it square"
Mabel: I had a sister?
Agatha: No, but you had a brother.
Mabel: Where is he?!
Agatha: He's mine now! And you'll never find him. Small price to pay for what else your father stole from me. It cost me my youth, my beauty. My mother warned me. She would punish me with the curse of ugliness if I ever lost any of them.
Coraline: Lost what?
Agatha: The beans (beans?)
The special beans
I'd let him go, I didn't know he'd stolen my beans
I was watching him crawl back over the wall
When bang! Crash! A lightning flash!...
Well, that's another story, never mind, anyway
At last the big day came
I made my claim
"Oh, don't take away the baby"
They shrieked and screeched
But I did
And I hid her where she'll never be reached
Your mother cried, and your father died
When for extra measure, I admit it was a pleasure
I said, "Sorry, I'm still not mollified"
And I laid a little spell on them
You too, dear. That your family tree would end... With you.
Mabel: How could you do that?!
Agatha: And when your father died, your mother deserted you. Your mother was no mother, so why should you get to be one?
Now there's no more fuss, and there's no more scenes
And my garden thrives, you should see my nectarines!
But I'm telling you the same I tell Kings and queens
Don't ever never ever mess around with my greens!
Especially the beans
Neil: But why do we have to go to the next village?
Winnie: Because everyone in this village knows the cow hasn't given a drop of milk in weeks.
Neil: That's cheating!
Winnie: We're starving, Neil! Can't you understand that? Now, you're not to accept less than five pounds for her. Are you listening to me?
Neil: Yes.
Winnie: How much are you to ask?
Neil: No more than five pounds.
Winnie: Less than five!
Winnie: Into the woods, the time is now, we have to live, I don't care how
Into the woods to sell the cow, you must begin the journey
Straight to the woods and don't delay, we have to face the marketplace
Into the woods to journey's end.
Neil: Into the woods to sell a friend.
Agatha: You wish to have the curse reversed?
I'll need a certain potion first
Go to the woods and bring me back
One, the cow as white as milk
Two, the cape as black as ebony
Three, the hair as brown as bronze
Four, the slipper as pure as gold
Bring me these before the chime of midnight
In three day's time tis' then the blue moon reappears
Which comes but once each hundred years
Bring 'em, and I guarantee a child as perfect as child can be
Go to the wood! *Dramatic exit*
Priscilla: Ladies, our carriage waits
Lili: Now may I go to the Festival?
Priscilla: The Festival?
Darling, those nails, darling, those clothes
Lentils are one thing, but, darling, with those
You'd make us the fools of the Festival and mortify the prince!
Lili: The Festival lasts three nights. Surely, you could let me be there for one of them.
Priscilla: The King is trying to find his son a wife, not a scullery maid. We must be gone, go!
*The stepfamily leaves*
Lili: I wish.
Coraline: *Finds beans in a coat pocket* Beans? These must be the witch's beans, we'll take them with us
Mabel: We?
Coraline: Yeah.
Mabel: You're not coming, it's not safe out there.
Coraline: I can help you.
Mabel: No, I can do this on my own.
The spell is on my house, only I can lift the spell.
Coraline: Well, yes, the spell is on your house. But we can lift the spell together, so the spell is on our house!
Mabel: Now tell me, what am I to return with?
Coraline: Ugh, God! You don't remember?
The cow as white as milk, the cape as black as ebony
The hair as brown as bronze, the slipper as pure as gold
Mabel: The cow as white as milk, the cape as black as ebony
The hair as brown as bronze, the slipper as pure as gold
Lili: I still wish to go to the Festival (the cow as white as milk)
But how am I ever to get to the Festival? (The cape as black as ebony, the hair as brown as bronze)
I know, I'll visit mother's grave, the grave at the willow tree (the slipper as pure as gold)
And tell her I just want to go to the King's Festival (the cow, the cape, the slipper as pure as gold, the hair!)
Mabel/Coraline: Into the woods, it's time to go, it may be all in vain, I know
Into the woods, but even so, I have to take the journey.
Coraline: Into the woods, the path is straight, you know it well.
Mabel: But who can tell?
Coraline: Into the woods to lift the spell.
Lili: Into the woods to visit mother.
Winnie: Into the woods to sell the cow.
Neil: To get the money.
Lili: To go to the Festival
Wybie: Into the woods to grandmother's house
Into the woods to grandmother's house
Coraline/Mabel/Lili/Neil/Wybie: The way is clear, the light is good
I have no fear, nor no one should
The woods are just trees, the trees are just wood
No need to be afraid there.
Mabel: There's something in the glade there
Into the woods without delay, but careful not to lose the way
Into the woods, who knows what may be lurking on the journey?
Into the woods to get the thing that makes it worth the journeying
Priscilla: Into the woods to see the King.
Neil: To sell the cow.
Mabel: To make the potion
To see, to sell, to get, to bring
To make, to lift, to go to the Festival
Into the woods
Into the woods
Into the woods
Into the woods
Into the woods
Into the woods
Into the woods, then out of the woods
To see, to sell, to get, to bring
To make, to lift, to go to the Festival
Into the woods, then out of the woods, and home before dark
Close Curtains!
#coraline#mystery kids#gravity falls#paranorman#psychonauts#the mystery kids#answered ask#ask stuff#into the woods#encwnto#Wendell and wild#boxtrolls
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
THE BURIED MOON
(A tale collected by Joseph Jacobs. Illustrations by Susan Jeffers)
@softlytowardthesun @themousefromfantasyland @the-blue-fairie @princesssarisa @amalthea9 @faintingheroine @darasuum @superkingofpriderock @metropolitan-mutant-of-ark
Long ago, in my grandmother’s time, the Carland was all in bogs, great pools of black water, and creeping trickles of green water, and squishy mools which squirted when you stepped on them.
Well, granny used to say how long before her time the Moon herself was once dead and buried in the marshes, and as she used to tell me, I’ll tell you all about it.
The Moon up yonder shone and shone, just as she does now, and when she shone she lighted up the bog-pools, so that one could walk about almost as safe as in the day.
But when she didn’t shine, out came the Things that dwelt in the darkness and went about seeking to do evil and harm; Bogles and Crawling Horrors, all came out when the Moon didn’t shine.
Well, the Moon heard of this, and being kind and good—as she surely is, shining for us in the night instead of taking her natural rest—she was main troubled. “I’ll see for myself, I will,” said she, “maybe it’s not so bad as folks make out.”
Sure enough, at the month’s end down she stept, wrapped up in a black cloak, and a black hood over her yellow shining hair. Straight she went to the bog edge and looked about her. Water here and water there; waving tussocks and trembling mools, and great black snags all twisted and bent. Before her all was dark—dark but for the glimmer of the stars in the pools, and the light that came from her own white feet, stealing out of her black cloak.
The Moon drew her cloak faster about and trembled, but she wouldn’t go back without seeing all there was to be seen; so on she went, stepping as light as the wind in summer from tuft to tuft between the greedy gurgling water holes. Just as she came near a big black pool her foot slipped and she was nigh tumbling in. She grabbed with both hands at a snag near by to steady herself with, but as she touched it, it twined itself round her wrists, like a pair of handcuffs, and gript her so that she couldn’t move. She pulled and twisted and fought, but it was no good. She was fast, and must stay fast.
Presently as she stood trembling in the dark, wondering if help would come, she heard something calling in the distance, calling, calling, and then dying away with a sob, till the marshes were full of this pitiful crying sound; then she heard steps floundering along, squishing in the mud and slipping on the tufts, and through the darkness she saw a white face with great feared eyes.
T was a man strayed in the bogs. Mazed with fear he struggled on toward the flickering light that looked like help and safety. And when the poor Moon saw that he was coming nigher and nigher to the deep hole, further and further from the path, she was so mad and so sorry that she struggled and fought and pulled harder than ever. And though she couldn’t get loose, she twisted and turned, till her black hood fell back off her shining yellow hair, and the beautiful light that came from it drove away the darkness.
Oh, but the man cried with joy to see the light again. And at once all evil things fled back into the dark corners, for they cannot abide the light. So he could see where he was, and where the path was, and how he could get out of the marsh. And he was in such haste to get away from the Quicks, and Bogles, and Things that dwelt there, that he scarce looked at the brave light that came from the beautiful shining yellow hair, streaming out over the black cloak and falling to the water at his feet. And the Moon herself was so taken up with saving him, and with rejoicing that he was back on the right path, that she clean forgot that she needed help herself, and that she was held fast by the Black Snag.
So off he went; spent and gasping, and stumbling and sobbing with joy, flying for his life out of the terrible bogs. Then it came over the Moon, she would main like to go with him. So she pulled and fought as if she were mad, till she fell on her knees, spent with tugging, at the foot of the snag. And as she lay there, gasping for breath, the black hood fell forward over her head. So out went the blessed light and back came the darkness, with all its Evil Things, with a screech and a howl. They came crowding round her, mocking and snatching and beating; shrieking with rage and spite, and swearing and snarling, for they knew her for their old enemy, that drove them back into the corners, and kept them from working their wicked wills.
“Drat thee!” yelled the witch-bodies, “thou ‘st spoiled our spells this year agone!”
“And us thou sent’st to brood in the corners!” howled the Bogles.
And all the Things joined in with a great “Ho, ho!” till the very tussocks shook and the water gurgled. And they began again.
“We’ll poison her—poison her!” shrieked the witches.
And “Ho, ho!” howled the Things again.
“We’ll smother her—smother her!” whispered the Crawling Horrors, and twined themselves round her knees.
And “Ho, ho!” mocked the rest of them.
And again they all shouted with spite and ill-will. And the poor Moon crouched down, and wished she was dead and done with.
And they fought and squabbled what they should do with her, till a pale grey light began to come in the sky; and it drew nigh the dawning. And when they saw that, they were feared lest they shouldn’t have time to work their will; and they caught hold of her, with horrid bony fingers, and laid her deep in the water at the foot of the snag. And the Bogles fetched a strange big stone and rolled it on top of her, to keep her from rising. And they told two of the Will-o-the-wykes to take turns in watching on the black snag, to see that she lay safe and still, and couldn’t get out to spoil their sport.
And there lay the poor Moon, dead and buried in the bog, till some one would set her loose; and who’d know where to look for her.
Well, the days passed, and ‘t was the time for the new moon’s coming, and the folk put pennies in their pockets and straws in their caps so as to be ready for her, and looked about, for the Moon was a good friend to the marsh folk, and they were main glad when the dark time was gone, and the paths were safe again, and the Evil Things were driven back by the blessed Light into the darkness and the waterholes.
But days and days passed, and the new Moon never came, and the nights were aye dark, and the Evil Things were worse than ever. And still the days went on, and the new Moon never came. Naturally the poor folk were strangely feared and mazed, and a lot of them went to the Wise Woman who dwelt in the old mill, and asked if so be she could find out where the Moon was gone.
“Well,” said she, after looking in the brewpot, and in the mirror, and in the Book, “it be main queer, but I can’t rightly tell ye what’s happened to her. If ye hear of aught, come and tell me.”
So they went their ways; and as days went by, and never a Moon came, naturally they talked—my word! I reckon they did talk! their tongues wagged at home, and at the inn, and in the garth. But so came one day, as they sat on the great settle in the Inn, a man from the far end of the bog lands was smoking and listening, when all at once he sat up and slapped his knee. “My faicks!” says he, “I’d clean forgot, but I reckon I kens where the Moon be!” and he told them of how he was lost in the bogs, and how, when he was nigh dead with fright, the light shone out, and he found the path and got home safe.
So off they all went to the Wise Woman, and told her about it, and she looked long in the pot and the Book again, and then she nodded her head.
“It’s dark still, childer, dark!” says she, “and I can’t rightly see, but do as I tell ye, and ye ‘ll find out for yourselves. Go all of ye, just afore the night gathers, put a stone in your mouth, and take a hazel-twig in your hands, and say never a word till you’re safe home again. Then walk on and fear not, far into the midst of the marsh, till ye find a coffin, a candle, and a cross. Then ye’ll not be far from your Moon; look, and m’appen ye ‘ll find her.”
So came the next night in the darklings, out they went all together, every man with a stone in his mouth, and a hazel-twig in his hand, and feeling, thou may’st reckon, main feared and creepy. And they stumbled and stottered along the paths into the midst of the bogs; they saw nought, though they heard sighings and flutterings in their ears, and felt cold wet fingers touching them; but all at once, looking around for the coffin, the candle, and the cross, while they came nigh to the pool beside the great snag, where the Moon lay buried. And all at once they stopped, quaking and mazed and skeery, for there was the great stone, half in, half out of the water, for all the world like a strange big coffin; and at the head was the black snag, stretching out its two arms in a dark gruesome cross, and on it a tiddy light flickered, like a dying candle. And they all knelt down in the mud, and said, “Our Lord, first forward, because of the cross, and then backward, to keep off the Bogles; but without speaking out, for they knew that the Evil Things would catch them, if they didn’t do as the Wise Woman told them.”
Then they went nigher, and took hold of the big stone, and shoved it up, and afterwards they said that for one tiddy minute they saw a strange and beautiful face looking up at them glad-like out of the black water; but the Light came so quick and so white and shining, that they stept back mazed with it, and the very next minute, when they could see again, there was the full Moon in the sky, bright and beautiful and kind as ever, shining and smiling down at them, and making the bogs and the paths as clear as day, and stealing into the very corners, as though she’d have driven the darkness and the Bogles clean away if she could.
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pam Lives: Part III
Beyond The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
The Hardesty's - 1951 - 1962
A School of Delight - The Early Years
Sally and Franklin, first cousins, had spent their early childhood years playing at their grandparents once beautiful home. For the last 15 years, especially after Grandpa Hardesty's death in 1963, and Grandmother Hardesty's then failing health, when she became too old to live alone in the house, the 27 windows and 7 doors were soon boarded up. Grandma Hardesty was moved to Luling, to a nursing home near Franklin's family.
Saturday, the 18th of August, was to be a very special day for both Sally and Franklin, a day of remembering their beloved grandparents, and the summers they had so enjoyed there as children, running free, swimming, and fishing for tadpoles in the nearby creek. Their cherished memories of watching the stars while sitting on the lawn, or nestled in their grandparents' laps, eating corn, squash, and fresh tomatoes from the garden, had filled their thoughts and sustained them through the years. The Hardesty sons had managed to keep the house in livable condition until Grandpa Hardesty had his last stroke, and soon passed.
The two grandchildren were left brokenhearted. Grandma Hardesty became lost without her best friend, lost in grief, and was soon forgetting things. One day the month after Grandpa had passed, Sally came up from Houston to visit her with her mother. Instead of standing at the door to welcome them, Grandma Hardesty never moved from her rocking chair, and her eyes looked out the window, as though her mind was somewhere else. When Sally took her hand, Mrs. Hardesty asked who she was. Sally looked into her grandmother’s eyes as she stroked her grandmother’s long white silky braid, she'd combed so many times. Gently she said, “I’m Sally, grandma, don’t you know me?” Big crocodile tears began to stream down Sally’s face and cheeks as her grandmother's eyes blankly stared back. Sally was deeply sensitive and perceptive, most unusual for a child, and always such a determined little soul, full of love and kindness. She pulled herself up on her grandmother’s lap and held her granny close, realizing something was terribly wrong, but hoping if she held her grandma tight, and long enough, surely, surely she would remember her. Unfortunately, Grandma Hardesty didn’t remember her, but allowed Sally to stay on her lap, and rock with her for some time.
Back then it was called, "Dementia," not, "Alzheimer's." Adored by their grandparents, Franklin and Sally were overcome with sadness when they began to realize they would probably never go back to play and run freely in their grandparent’s fields, as they had always taken for granted before, or pick vegetables with them in their garden, ride in Grandpa’s brand new Studebaker into town for groceries. The two people in the world they worshipped and loved so much, were disappearing from their lives. There would be no more Christmas or Easter dinners where the two families would gather. The loss was profound and marked a significant change for them, and for their families.
In their first ten years of life, the two children came every summer from their homes, Sally from Houston, and Franklin from Luling. They would stay from mid-June to mid-August and stay with the old couple in their 100-year-old home tucked away in the country, outside Round Rock, Texas. In the Hardesty’s last three summers in their house, they had also welcomed Sally's friend, Pam, to come with them. Pam would become Franklin's friend as well, and usually stay the first three weeks, and then return for their last week. The three friends enjoyed running through the fields, playing on the old tractor, or behind the barn, and continually investigating the mysterious old outhouse that stood in ruin out behind the house. Each wondered why anyone would need such a thing when running toilets worked so well! Grandma Hardesty laughed at the children's naïveté and patiently explained that indoor plumbing hadn't been installed in the house until 1937, just about the same time they got electricity. The children sat enthralled by her stories. Tears had filled Grandma's eyes when she described the first time she pushed the switch, and the light came on. It was like a miracle! She said it had changed their lives “utterly and completely.” They were no longer in the dark, or lighting kerosene lamps to see, and Grandpa soon bought her a refrigerator to replace the old ice box.
Sally, Pam, and Franklin had talked endlessly about these mystifying subjects, their young minds trying hard to comprehend it all. They were stunned to learn that there had actually been no electricity until around the same time as the toilets and running water, as the house was outside the city of Round Rock, where it had come years earlier. "No 'lectricity? That's just cwazy!" little Franklin had remarked, mouth agape. Pam and Sally agreed completely, and sat up late by candlelight, whispering long into the night, their minds full of wonder. They only had more questions the next day, and the day after that, and so on. It was a rich and exciting journey they took in the country outside Round Rock, a school of unexpected delight, and marvelous secrets that fueled their endless days of pretend, each playing different roles, imagining stories that they played out day after day. When Grandpa told them about boiling water to bathe in an old tub before there had been plumbing, Franklin asked, "What’s plumbin’ Grandpa?" Indeed they shared powerful memories and deep emotions of their times spent with the old couple who had taught them so much, and who they felt so inextricably bonded to.
The home then fell into complete disrepair and neglect, barely surviving the 1965 flood, as well as a small group of local teens who used it as their meeting place for parties, and late-night lover’s trysts, accompanied by a little dabbling in LSD and pot. Later, another group of teen vandals had discovered it, and both groups alternately hung out there. Often they had used boards to build fires in the backyard on cool nights. They could park their cars in back and not be seen by any of the neighbors who lived nearby. Then, one night the sheriff heard a rumor and came out with two deputies to investigate. All thirteen teens got busted for “one roach.” That’s all it took back in 1967 to get put away for 10 years, and that is exactly what happened to 19-year-old Bobby Bush. That was all they found anyway. By a stroke of luck, Bobby and his pals had left their stash hidden far out beyond the back fence, a hundred yards away, bringing only a few joints to the house, which they had already smoked by the time the sheriff arrived. The cops never found the rest of the five pounds of pot and the 37 tabs of Purple Haze. If they had, Bobby would have gotten life for sure. The cops never realized that all thirteen were tripping heavily on acid when they had arrived at 3 AM. As it turned out, Bobby was the only one they charged, but it put such a fear of God into the whole area, so much that the kids decided to never return to the house after that night, except for the one night Leon and Riley snuck back to get the stash. From the road one mile to the South, crossing over the field at night, the two young men managed to retrieve their booty. Bobby went to the pen at Huntsville. He only served three years because his Uncle George had just been elected to the Texas House Of Representatives and pulled some strings for his nephew, but it was a gigantic embarrassment to the family of blue-bloods, and Bobby was relegated to the role of black sheep forever thereafter. After that, the property was all but ignored until Sally, Franklin, Pam Jerry, and Kirk visited.
And now, the Hardesty property was to be sold off. It just felt wrong. For the past five years, their two fathers had been embroiled in a nasty heated debate, causing somewhat of a rift, all over what was to be done with it. Taxes had steadily been going up every year. It was a piece of nostalgia that was in their blood, and yet, an unwanted financial burden on both families. Lives would change forever after 1963 with Grandpa’s stroke, and then, with young Franklin's accident in ‘63. That was a misery that would compel the two brothers to find their souls again, and by that come to recognize what really mattered in life. It worked like bittersweet tonic and brought the families back together because that’s what you did when things got bad, back then, you stuck together. You stuck by them through thick and thin.
End Pam Lives! Part III
🚀💋🎥🪝🪚⛓ 🐓
Cover Designs by Desmond Ambrose Root
Pam Escaping - Drawing by @Tadeo Mendoza
** (Inside stories)
thetexaschainsawmassacre #marilynburns #gunnarhansen #edneal #paulpartain #terimcminn #johndugan #williamvail #allendanziger #edguinn #kimhenkel #dpearldp #tednicolaou #jmichaelmcclary #waynebell #rogerbartlett #70shorror #horrormovie #horrorfilms #texaschainsaw #trailblazers #horror #leatherface
#texaschainsawmassacre
0 notes
Text
Beautiful Crazy Distressed Button Down Flannel Shirt
This listing is for a one-of-a-kind bleached "Beautiful Crazy”, a perfect distressed flannel shirt for Her!
If your size is showing sold out, reach out to use to see if we have received a shipment of products in, due to the availability of items during this holiday season, we receive our products in daily.
No two shirts will ever be exactly alike so please aware and embrace the differences. All shirts are carefully curated, hand-dyed, and re-purposed so that each shirt is going to be different from the next in terms of color and plaid print.
SIZING: These shirts vary, many are unisex and come in men's sizing. They can be worn by both men & women. Ordering your normal t-shirt size is recommended for a regular fit. Going 1 size up works well for a baggy/oversized fit. Women's or Children's Specific sizing will be noted on the photo/variation options selected.
FABRIC: All these shirts are made of cotton or a cotton/poly blend. Measurements and thickness vary slightly by brand.
COLORS: Each flannel is unique, and no two shirts are going to look exactly alike. Colors are sent at random. Because the colors often change throughout the bleaching process, I cannot take specific color requests for these shirts.
Care instructions: Turn item inside out, machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Air dry is recommended.
Due to different picture lighting settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.
Current Turnaround Time due to upcoming Holidays - 1-5 Business Days. While we always use priority shipping options, once shipped we cannot guarantee delivery due to the backlog current being experienced USPS/UPS/FedEx. If you have a strict deadline, please message me when ordering so that I can note any rush requests. Ownership of packages turned over to USPS transfers to the Buyer. We are not responsible for lost, held, damaged packages or delayed packages, once your package(s) leaves our Shop it is completely out of our control. Thank you for understanding!
Thank you for visiting Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations, we truly appreciate your support of small businesses. We also personalize our products, please reach out to us with any personalizing any of our products, additional fee's may apply.
Please visit www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com to view more products.
#flannelshirt - #grannygrandpascustomcreations - #distressedflannelshirt
This listing is for a one-of-a-kind bleached "Beautiful Crazy”, a perfect distressed flannel shirt for Her!
If your size is showing sold out, reach out to use to see if we have received a shipment of products in, due to the availability of items during this holiday season, we receive our products in daily.
No two shirts will ever be exactly alike so please aware and embrace the differences. All shirts are carefully curated, hand-dyed, and re-purposed so that each shirt is going to be different from the next in terms of color and plaid print.
SIZING: These shirts vary, many are unisex and come in men's sizing. They can be worn by both men & women. Ordering your normal t-shirt size is recommended for a regular fit. Going 1 size up works well for a baggy/oversized fit. Women's or Children's Specific sizing will be noted on the photo/variation options selected.
FABRIC: All these shirts are made of cotton or a cotton/poly blend. Measurements and thickness vary slightly by brand.
COLORS: Each flannel is unique, and no two shirts are going to look exactly alike. Colors are sent at random. Because the colors often change throughout the bleaching process, I cannot take specific color requests for these shirts.
Care instructions: Turn item inside out, machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Air dry is recommended.
Due to different picture lighting settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.
Current Turnaround Time due to upcoming Holidays - 1-5 Business Days. While we always use priority shipping options, once shipped we cannot guarantee delivery due to the backlog current being experienced USPS/UPS/FedEx. If you have a strict deadline, please message me when ordering so that I can note any rush requests. Ownership of packages turned over to USPS transfers to the Buyer. We are not responsible for lost, held, damaged packages or delayed packages, once your package(s) leaves our Shop it is completely out of our control. Thank you for understanding!
Thank you for visiting Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations, we truly appreciate your support of small businesses. We also personalize our products, please reach out to us with any personalizing any of our products, additional fee's may apply.
Please visit www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com to view more products.
#flannelshirt - #grannygrandpascustomcreations - #distressedflannelshirt
#Shop Beautiful Crazy distressed button down flannel shirt#Beautiful Crazy distressed button down flannel shirt#Shop Beautiful Crazy distressed flannel shirt#shop Beautiful Crazy bleached flannel shirt#Shop Beautiful Crazy distressed designed Flannel Shirt#Shop distressed flannel shirts at Granny and Grandpas Custom Creations#Shop Distressed Bleached Flannel Shirt#Shop Distressed Bleached Flannel Shirts#Shop distressed bleached flannel shirts with designs#Granny and Grandpas Custom Creations#Granny and Grandpas Custom Creations Buffalo MN#granny#grannyandgrandpa#grannyandgrandpascustomcreations#Beautiful Crazy shirt#Shop Granny and Grandpa#Looking for unique distressed bleached flannel shirts?#Buffalo Minnesota#Buffalo Minnesota Granny and Grandpa's Custom Creations#Custom printing near me#Flannel store near me#Western store near me#Notary service near me#Printing near me#Gift Store near me#Best selling vintage bleached oversized Beautiful Crazy button down flannel shirt
1 note
·
View note
Text
Never Far
Original essay: https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/u8CseBNi4Kkye56u63XFSA
On the first day of each month, you can often see "Hello a certain month" in Moments. Everyone hopes that this month can always be happy and cute, or hope that the hard work this month will be rewarded… In short, we have good expectations for the future.
August is here again as scheduled, and the heat wave hits us with "enthusiasm" in this midsummer. It seems that it is the same as August of the previous year, there is no difference, but there is something different in my heart. There seemed to be a black hole in the deepest part of my psyche, a gap in my mother's heart—a black hole that would send my mother down to a planet of bewilderment, anxiety, and sadness.
I also know a group of people who will feel uncomfortable, uneasy, and difficult to regulate their emotions because of an upcoming day. It seems that everyone is longing for it, just like in the movie: Sooner is many years later…
Forever is not far away, just like every sunrise and sunset is a day in eternity, what should come will always come, no one can resist. As I wrote this, I stared blankly at the computer screen, unable to write for a long time, bursts of anger welled up in my heart, and even wanted to punch the computer screen. Obviously I was the one who went through all of this, so why should I show tolerance, open-mindedness, and friendship? Why can't I pour out my emotions wantonly?
Yes, I can't, I'm not the old me anymore, I can do better than the old me.
Friends who have supported me this year, please rest assured that I am fine. Recently, I have been exercising, boxing, and doing Pilates with my friends… These methods allow me to temporarily forget the troubles around me, and feel a sense of connection and solidity in the company of family and friends. Even basketball, which I hadn't touched in two or three years, returned to my palm with the encouragement and company of my friends, and I felt the hearty feeling I hadn't seen for a long time. Yes, I'm trying to recharge myself.
Back home, my mother has my company, and her condition is much better. Taking her to exercise together can see that her body is lighter and her wrinkles are gradually stretched. I can do better in the future.
There are also those "people" who secretly "support" me, I know you want to see me knocked down, and then lie on the ground and give up struggling amidst your contemptuous ridicule , no longer being strong, convinced, and persistent. But I want to thank you for successfully arousing the "damn desire to win" in men. If I really fell down, I don't seem to respect your long-term "support". Just like in that song, "Indifferent people, thank you for once underestimating me and making me live stronger without bowing my head".
how far is Forever? Forever is not far, always in our hearts. Heart to eternity, forever is every day under our feet. How can we reach what we call forever without taking every step firmly and steadily?
Live a good life, get what you want, abandon unnecessary quarrels and cares, pay more attention to some beautiful moments in life, and exercise with me until you grow old—you should also be a healthy and happy grandpa when you get old, Granny.
Perfect is not beautiful either. Family members, partners, and staff around you also have their own shortcomings and blind spots. No one is perfect, if you always look at the world with critical eyes, you will definitely not be happy. Try to learn to tolerate and appreciate a person's imperfections, and a bright light will be lit in your heart. This light will illuminate itself, and it will illuminate me.
I said I would be your Dark Knight, and I will always remember that. I will be there when you need me, and even if you don't need me one day, I will silently pay attention to and bless you.
The journey is not lonely, you may occasionally want to get off the train and stop to enjoy another piece of scenery, it doesn't matter that the train will always be there.
Whether it is a new friend or an old friend, I will always smile and say to you: How are you? welcome……
#zhang zhehan#zhang sanjian#word of honor#August 2#2022#haizhe#the english translations are machine translated and hence prone to errors
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
matsnobben
Matsnobben
supiika
Supīka
m0nst3rslam3nt
apollo
pursuemyfeet
Worship My Feet
jellie0248
Pisces Baby