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hannahssimblr · 10 months ago

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Chapter Eighteen (Part 2)

“Oh, you’re staying back. Again.” Marnie is saying the following week as I linger on in the art room. “You’re always working in the evenings now, I feel like I never see you.”

“Yeah I’ve been fairly busy.”

“You need to chill out though.”

“I have been, on the weekends.”

She sighs and plonks into the desk next to me. I don’t look at her but I can practically hear her pout. “You never hang out with me anymore.” She whines. “Ever since your birthday you’ve been busy all of the time, I don’t get it.”

“Yeah.” I say, hesitating before adding “sorry.”

“Did I do something?”

“I just have loads of work.” I sigh. “I feel like if I spent this year actually trying to do my assignments then I wouldn’t be in this position, but I suppose I’m after kind of shooting myself in the foot.”

“Yeah, fine, but you haven’t told me any gossip about Dean since you two started hooking up.”

“Is that what this is really about?”

“Not completely, I also wanted to catch up with you and see how you’ve been.” She lies. My phone starts buzzing in my pocket and I yank it out to see my mother calling me again. She’s been doing this every few days lately. I reject the call and put it onto the table in front of me, only to see the inevitable When are you coming home? message buzz in a short minute later. I feel too frazzled to deal with any of this right now. Not while my visual development project isn’t looking exactly the way it does in my head.

“That’s a bit of a drag about his brother getting arrested, isn’t it?” Marnie says, finally prompting me to drop my paintbrush and stare at her. “Did he tell you that?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“When?”

“The other night when we were out for drinks, why?”

“No reason.” I go back to painting while unease rises within me. So much for him not liking Marnie, not wanting to hang out with her anymore, for not having time to hang out with anybody else. What happened to our mutual agreement about this? My feelings about this must be written on my face regardless of my attempts to disguise them because when I meet her eyes they are dancing with delight. “He seems really sad about it.” She says with a dramatic pout. “Poor baby. If you want you can join us soon, we’re about to head out to that pub in Phibsborough and get some drinks.”

“Dean is going?”

“Yeah did he not tell you?”

I take a slow, steady breath through my nose, trying to calm myself enough as to not be drawn into her blatant trap. “I can’t go anyway.” I shrug. “I actually have plans.”

“Do your plans include you sitting chained to an art room desk until you get kicked out of the building at midnight by the porters?”

“No, I’m having dinner with a friend.”

She groans and rolls her eyes, slumping heavily onto the desk. “Oh is it your boring country friend again? The one who still wears ballet pumps?”

“Claire.” I correct her. “We’re cooking dinner together.”

“But can’t you cook dinner any old night? I wanted to discuss the details of my summer party with you.”

“We can text about it, like, but do you really need my input?”

“Isn’t it fun to talk about what we’re going to do though? All of the activities we can plan?”

“Well you have a pool, so I imagine you can just let people swim in it and they’ll be alright. Most people don’t actually have one of those so it’s quite a novelty.” I glance at her and catch her rolling her eyes. “You really are just turning into one of those girls that starts seeing someone and completely vanishes. I never thought that of you, you know, I thought that you were a real girls’ girl.”

“Marnie, it’s not like that. This is Claire’s last night in Ireland before she goes to Cyprus for a month. I won’t see her after this. Any other night I can come to the pub.”

“No.” She says haughtily. “Any other night you’re here in the art room painting working on your little assignments. You won’t come to the pub. You probably won’t come to the summer party either.”

“Marnie, I will-” I trail off, because she’s already gone.

After hitting the Tesco Express on the way home from college, I haul four shopping-laden bags up the two flights of stairs to our apartment, sweat beading on my forehead as the late spring sun beats through the windows and heats my skin. I’m so hungry, and knowing all of the delicious treats inside my bag only serves to make me more excited for dinner than I already was. Claire and I haven’t had the time to cook together in months, not since college work started to pile on for both of us, and actually, finding time to talk at all has been hard.

I have to take a rest between two floors and flex my hand, long divots in my palms from where the thick plastic handles on the bags have dug into me. “Claire?” I shout upwards, hoping she will hear me through our fire door. “Could you help me with these bags?” I wait a moment, my voice echoes against the concrete walls and floor, and there’s no response. I sigh and haul the bags off the floor, feeling the strain on my arms and shoulders. I bet she’s got her earphones in again.

We’re making a combination of our favourites tonight, I even got a whole chicken for her signature rosemary orange roast chicken, baby potatoes, those mini broccoli stalks just ready to be drizzled in oil and garnished with flakes of seasalt, crushed chilli and toasted flaked almonds… Then for dessert we’ll have fresh black cherries with orange zest and vanilla mascarpone on the side, served up with crunchy palmiers biscuits sticking out of the top like little flags. We’ll probably be cooking it all until ten o’clock tonight, but we know the best part is the process, the joy of cooking together. The food at the end is only a bonus.

I finally reach our floor, grunting with the effort, and shoulder the door open. “Claire!” I trill. “I’m home!”

She’s sitting on the couch, she’s the first thing I see, the back of her head with her long straight blonde hair in a smooth sheet over her back and shoulders, and she doesn’t react to me. Instantly I can feel it. Something is wrong.

“Claire?” I say, laying the bags on the floor where I’m standing and making my way over to her. My footsteps seem particularly loud on the floor. That one obnoxious floorboard that squeaks, seeming to squeak even more than usual.

“Hey.” She says thickly. Turning her face towards me, but not all the way. She’s avoiding my eyes. Immediately my head is spinning. It’s Shane. They’ve broken up, and he’s just sprung it on her with no warning, the day before their holiday, no less. After everything they’ve done together, all the time they’ve invested, he’s just dumped her. Perfect, beautiful Claire. It’s the Healy’s I want to start telling her. You can’t trust them, they’re hardwired to hurt us, but then as I get closer to her and she finally looks at me, somehow I know. It’s not Shane.

It’s me.

I don’t say a word. I stand across from her, sickening dread surging in my guts, and I don’t even know what I’ve done, but I know it’s bad, because she’s never looked at me like this before, not with these wounded eyes rimmed in red, her mouth pulled taut and downwards at the corners. A smudge of mascara is underneath one eye, and under any other circumstance I would have wiped it away for her without even thinking about it, but now I’m afraid to even take another step in her direction.

“I thought I’d clean the apartment before you got home.” She says. “And I was doing the bins-”

My stomach instantly drops as I relive the scene. Me, and what I put into the bins yesterday, stupidly, without even thinking about it. “Oh, Claire…”

She shakes her head. “Why would you keep that from me?”

“I… I don’t know, I really don’t know why.”

“I tell you everything about myself, Evie. You know everything that’s happened in my life up to this point, you know every thought in my head, everything that I like, every embarrassing thing that ever happened to me that I can remember.”

I nod, because she’s right, and I keep on nodding as she goes on.

“And I thought that you told me everything too! I know the names of all the boys you’ve ever kissed, I know about your dad and how he’s a functioning alcoholic, and your uncle and how he knocked up a twenty nine year old woman in Venezuela, and how you’ve been secretly in love with Jude for almost two years now, all your favourite snacks and places you want to visit… I just can’t understand what it is-” She pauses to take a sharp breath as fresh tears spring to her eyes, “That made you hide something like this from me.”

“I know.” I say.

She looks at me with eyes filling up, waiting for more, but I can’t give it to her. I don’t know why I didn’t tell her, just like I don’t know why I thought it’d be a good idea to stuff a dozen condom wrappers into the general bin and not even think about the possibility of her seeing them. It’s almost like hiding things, being deceitful has become something that I naturally do, a state of being, something I no longer have to think about in the same way that it’s easier and more natural for me to think of unkind things to say about people than compliments.

“Is it that you thought I wouldn’t understand?” She prompts. “That I’d be judging you for it?”

“I… maybe. I don’t know what I thought. It just started happening.”

“With… Dean Cullen?”

“Yes.”

She rests her forehead on her hand. “Well…” She breaks off and sighs with frustration. “Maybe Shane and I weren’t that fair about him, but if you’d just come and talked to me and explained it then maybe I’d have got it.”

“I was afraid that you’d tell me not to go near him.”

“Yeah, I probably would have, but if you really care about each other then I would have tried my best to understand and support you, and then you wouldn’t have had to sneak around.”

I feel acutely aware of my body, and the way I’m just standing there like a statue, palms prickling, heart thudding in my chest knowing that Dean and I don’t really care about each other, at least not him. He doesn’t care about anything, let alone me anymore. He, the man who treats me like dirt, and I, the girl who deserves it. But I’ll have to keep this information from her too. The truth would be too much for her to bear.

“Sex is a personal thing.” I attempt. “I wouldn’t ask you for the details, the ins and outs of what you do.” And saying that is a mistake, because her eyes flash to mine and the fury and the hurt contained in them is like a gut punch. “It’s not that you had sex with someone, it’s that you lied about it, for no good reason.”

“Yeah well-”

“And I’m your best friend, and you used to tell me everything, and I’m supposed to help you when you go through big life moments.” She tosses her arms up in frustration. “And what happened the first time you did it? Who did you talk to about it? Because I know you didn’t call your mam.”

“I didn’t tell anybody.”

“Was he nice to you?”

I hesitate, the ugly memory of his blatant disappointment in me attempting to resurface before I banish it into the depths of my mind again. “Kind of.”

“Why couldn’t you talk to me?” She’s crying again, and I don’t know what to do about it, so I just stand there, paralysed with the knowledge that it’s all my fault, I’ve caused this. I’m making her cry because of the decisions I’ve made, ones I continue to make every day, and still cannot seem to stop making. I wish I was dead. I don’t want to kill myself, but I wish I was dead.

“Nothing else.” I insist. “Nothing else big, I don’t know. I really did try to tell you everything. I fucked up with the Dean thing, I know that and I really wanted to talk to you about it but I was so afraid that you’d disapprove.”

“So what if I did?”

“Because when you disapprove of him it feels like you disapprove of me, and my choices, and the things I want for myself. You can tell me you don’t like him and you think he’s a freak, but really, it just sounds like you think I have bad taste, and the person I chose is defective.”

“And if he is?”

“Then so am I by association.”

“That’s so not true, Evie.”

“It feels fairly true.”

“There are a lot of people in your life who may have made you feel like shit, your mam, Kelly, Marnie, and even Jude, but you can’t lump me in with them. I’ve always been on your side, I’ve always been there for you.”

“Claire, I can’t help feeling this way, it’s just how it’s always been.”

“Haven’t you ever thought about talking to someone about it?”

“What, like a therapist?”

“Yeah.”

“No, my parents would never support that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with getting help, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Tell that to them.”

She sighs heavily and shakes her head, and I know that I’ve just annoyed her, that she’s had enough. She doesn’t want to be trapped in this awful conversation with me. “If you won’t go and talk to a therapist then I don’t know what to say to you. I understand that you feel like something is broken in you, and you’re hurting at the moment but it’s really not fair to take that out on the people that truly care about you, like, for us to have to sit here and watch you go through it while you do nothing to help yourself.”

“I’m fine, Claire. I’m really not going through anything, I just made a mistake. I should have told you about Dean, and I’m sorry. I can’t explain why I didn’t tell you, I wish I understood it myself.”

Her expression breaks my heart, it’s like total resignation, exhaustion, the face of a girl who is tired of being worried, worn thin. “Okay well, like I tried to explain to you, it’s not really about Dean but…” Another sigh. “I just… I think I just need to go to my room now.”

She starts getting up and I watch her, head buzzing with confusion. “Wait, have we finished talking about this? What about dinner?”

“I’ll go without it, if that’s okay. You’re just really hard to be around at the minute.”

I watch her as she walks towards the stairs and feel this surge of panic, as though I’m watching her slip through my fingers like sand. “Claire…” I say helplessly, and seeming to understand what I mean she looks at me once again. “I still love you.” She clarifies. “You’re still my best friend, but I need to be alone. We can talk again when I get back from Cyprus.”

“In a month?”

“Yeah. I think I could use some space, if that’s okay.”

It’s not. I’m not. “Yeah of course, I can respect that.”

She nods at me and then goes upstairs and disappears from sight, and I just stand there and listen to her leaving, fixed to the spot accompanied only by the hum of the fridge, the methodical ticking of a clock, and the slow drip of melting ice inside the bags on the floor.

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#lucky girl part 2 #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #tw: sex mention

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itsthestutterforme · 7 months ago

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BROKEN SILVER LININGS Chapter Five

Summary: You and Bucky haven’t addressed your feelings for each other. But when he drives you home after a night out with the girls, it sparked a much needed conversation.

Warnings/Notes: all mistakes are my own, alcohol consumption, creepy drunk guy, Bucky being soft and protective

You had just finished applying your lip liner and pressed your lips together to blend it when you heard a knock on your door.

Leaving the bathroom, you crossed the open space in your apartment to open the door.

“Bucky, hi,” you greeted him with a warm smile that made his heart race. His mouth fell open at your outfit.

You wore a red two piece skirt that had a slit on your right thigh, showing off one of your tattoos.

In truth, he could see all of your tattoos drawn on your smooth, bronze skin.

Your hair was pulled up into a half up do, leaving two twists up front. You rarely wore makeup but whenever you did, it would just be highlight, mascara and a brown lip.

In your mind, simple was good.

He continued to stare at you, which was something you’ve gotten used to. He could stare into your almond shaped eyes all day if you’d let him.

“You wanna come in?”

“Oh, right.”

He steps into inside and closes the door while you walk back into the bathroom. His eyes never missed how smooth your hips swayed when you walked.

“Are you going on date?” Bucky asks when he follows you into the bathroom softly inhaling the perfume you had just bought.

“No, I’m going out with some friends. They claim that I’ve been MIA lately so. It’s time to prove them wrong.”

You glided the deep brown lipstick over your lips and smooth your lips together.

You look away from the mirror and set your lip stick on the counter. “So.. what do you think? I was contemplating on changing because it’s a little too revealing. But I didn’t want to wear sweatpants because then I’ll be underdressed-”

“I think you look beautiful,” he interrupts your rant. “You think so?” He hums in response.

Your legs felt like jelly the longer he looks at you adoringly. “I’ll drop you off and take you home after,”

“You don’t have to do that, Bucky.” You neared him, the scent of your shea butter lotion coupled with your perfume drove him insane.

“I assume you’re going to be drinking. I’ll have a better peace of mind taking you home than you driving or taking an Uber.”

“Okay,”

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I just have to grab my purse.” You intentionally touched his hand when you walked past him, smiling when you heard his breath hitch.

You felt bold enough to hold his hand while he drove you a busy restaurant in Downtown Washington D.C. that turns into a club at night.

Warmth spread through Bucky’s body when his hand came into contact with your bare thigh .

“I’m going to be okay, Buck.” You reassured him when he had a serious look on his face as he watches a group of men entering the restaurant, rowdy as ever.

He grumbled in disagreement but didn’t say anything. You pulled away from his hand and stepped out of the car.

“What time should I come by?”

“Eight thirty is my cut off time. And I apologize in advance for- well, I’m a bit of a hassle when I’m drunk.”

“I can handle it,” he says with a smile.

God, when did it become so hot?

“See you at eight thirty?” “See you at eight thirty,” you closed the door and Bucky waited until you were fully inside before pulling off.

You grew irritated by the amount of people bumping into you in the short distance between the entrance and your table.

“Looks like you found yourself a new hottie,” your friend teases when you approached the table.

“Diana,” you scold and she hops out of her chair to embrace you tightly.

“Well I don’t blame her. Have you seen him?” Amari says, sticking her tongue out playfully.

“It’s not like that, guys.” You sat down in the empty chair to find a mojito waiting for you.

“Hitting the ground running, I see.” You say, glancing at their empty glasses.

“You need to tell us everything, sis.” Amari pleaded, grabbing a hold of your hand tightly.

“Ow,”

Bucky was lounging around at his apartment. He tried to focus on watching TV but he grew anxious at where you were.

“Given, you had training so you technically could take care of yourself.

But it’s about the principle. So he left to go to the restaurant about an hour early.

He found prime parking directly in front of the main window. Inside of the restaurant was dark but had probe lights scanning through the crowd.

His eyes locked in on you and your friends at a standing table. You were sipping on a margarita when “Daddy’s Home” played and Diana pulled you into the dance floor.

You barely had a chance to set the glass down. You and Diana sang along at the top of your lungs.

Amari joined in when he saw a drunk guy making his way towards you.

He was about to touch your waist when Amari grabbed your hand and spun you around to the other side of her.

“Not a chance,” she told him while you continued to dance to the song, clueless to the situation.

“I like her,” Bucky said in response.

“Oh yeah? And what are you going to go about it?” The man says, shoving Amari back a few paces.

And that was enough reason for Bucky to get out of the car.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” You were confused as to what was happening and why Amari went up to the drunk man’s face.

“What’s going on?” You whined, having trouble standing up straight.

“I just wanted to ask your friend if she wanted to head back to my place. You’re being a-”

The drunk man’s gaze fell behind you and his eyes widened in terror.

You watched as the color slowly drained from his face. He looked as pale as a ghost.

When you turned around, you ran into Bucky’s chest but his dark gaze remained on the man.

“Bucky,” you slurred.

He had taken off his jacket so his metal arm was visible. He clenched his fists and took a step towards him, causing the man to stumble backwards tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground.

That didn’t deter Bucky at all.

He walked past you and your friends and stood over the man on the ground.

He whispered something to him that made the man scramble to his feet and knock a woman over on the way out of the restaurant.

“Bucky,” you hiccuped, taking wobbly steps over to him.

He refused to look at you until you fell into his chest with a giggle. The irritation melted off of him when you blinked slowly up at him.

His shoulder relaxed at your touch and he lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head at your drunken state.

“I’m going to take her home. Are you guys okay getting home?” Bucky asked as he took your hand into his and carried his jacket in his free hand.

“I’m designated driver.” Amari reassures and he nods in response.

You turned to your friends to say goodbye but they were already staring at you with wide smiles on their faces.

You pull them both in for a hug, nearly losing your balance from the alcohol in your system.

“He was totally about to kill that man for you,” you sent Amari a look when you pulled away and she raised her hands in surrender.

Bucky let you lead the way out of the bar but crossed in front of you to open the car door for you. He guided you into the car and shut the door before rounding the car.

“You know Amari thinks you’re hot. You should give her a call. You would make a cute couple.” You mentioned when pulled out of the parking space and came to a red light.

“Is that right?” He questioned with amusement and you hummed in response.

“Well tell her I’m very much involved with someone else,”

“Really, who?” He met your confused gaze and chuckled softly.

“God, doll. You’re really oblivious when you’re drunk.”

“Heeeey, no I’m not.” You tell him with a pout as you crossed your arms.

And really adorable too, he thinks to himself.

You heard a familiar tune coming from the radio and turned up the radio. You sang along to “I’ll Be Missing You” the rest of the ride.

When he pulled into the parking lot for the apartment, he tried to lift you into his arms and take you up the stairs up but it only made you feel dizzy and nauseous.

So he settled for taking your hand and guiding you to the entire way to your apartment.

You gave him the key from your purse and he unlocks the door, following you inside.

You clicked on the lights to kitchen and went into the fridge to get a bottled water.

You were craving something cold.

“Let’s get you into bed, yeah?” Bucky suggests after you take a long sip of your water. “N-no,” you hiccup.

“You can barely stand up straight, doll.” “Dance with me, Bucky.”

Setting the bottle down, you opened your arms for him to come closer.

“You sure this is a good idea?” He asks, closing the gap between you. “Why not. A dance never hurt anybody, right?”

You slid your arms around his neck and he naturally put his hands on your waist.

“What about the music?”

“Hey, Alexa. Play Japanese Denim by Daniel Ceasar.”

“Playing Japanese Denim by Daniel Ceasar in Apple Music,” she reiterates before playing the song.

You rested your head against his chest and he pressed a soft kiss to your hair as the two of you slow danced in the kitchen.

“I like this. Who’s this artist again?” “Daniel Ceasar,” “I’ll have to add him to the list then,” he said as a reminder.

Your eyes fluttered closed, listening to the soft cadence of his heart beat into your ear. “Hey Bucky?”

He hums in response.

“If the roles were switched, would you have stayed?” You asked slowly, immediately regretting what you had said.

“Yes, in a heartbeat.” He answers with confidence.

“Why?” “Because you would be my future. That’s all I want to focus on. Not a decision that’s in the past,”

“But if you had a chance-“

“I would never abandon you like Steve did. He was my best friend and I loved him very much. But I would never do that to you. Ever.”

He stopped moving and stared down at you, moving a few twists from your face.

“If you pulled something like that to me, I would spend every second of every day proving to you how much you mean to me.” He adds, causing you to lift your head up from his chest.

“How would you prove it to me?” You asked softly, meeting his intense gaze with your own.

“Physically,”

A familiar pulse rushed through you and you find yourself leaning up to kiss him, whining when he leaned his head back to avoid it.

“M’not going to kiss you when you’re drunk, sweetheart.” “Why not?”

“Because I want you to remember it,” he cradles your head in his hands and pressed a lingering kiss on your forehead.

By this point, the song finished a while ago. He takes your hand and leads you into the bedroom, flipping the light on when he enters.

He pulls back the comforter and you climbed into bed, humming when he tucks in the covers around you.

“Can you stay with me, Bucky?” You asked with a yawn. Your eyes grew heavier the longer you laid your head on the soft pillow.

“I’ll be on the couch if you need me, baby.” He whispered, softly caressing your cheek.

It wasn’t long until your soft snores echoed through the room.

He smiles at your sleeping form before turning to leave the room, closing the door on the way out.

You haven’t felt this rested in ages. Lifting your arms up, you extend your body as you stretched.

Your body shook the longer you kept your legs extended and you let out a soft groan when you finally relaxed your body.

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you pull the covers off of you and noticed you were still in last night clothes.

You slid on your fuzzy crocs and opened the door, following the alluring scent of eggs and cheddar cheese.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Bucky greets, turning the pan so the eggs landed on a plate.

Walking into the kitchen, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and let out a big yawn.

“Good morning,” you greeted. “How’s your head feeling?”

“It’s feeling fine, surprisingly. I was drunk as a skunk yesterday,”

“Yes you were,” he separates the bacon, pancakes and eggs on two plates.

“Damn, I was that bad huh?” You asked, watching him open the fridge and pull out the orange juice.

You didn’t remember having orange juice so he must of went shopping earlier this morning.

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

“Mm, I remember me, Amari and Diana dancing then Amari started shouting and you appeared out of nowhere,” you took your hair tie from your wrist and pulled your twists into a low bun.

“What else?” He leans his back against the counter and crossed his arms. “I remember trying to kiss you and you turned me down.”

“You remember why?” He asks as he kicked off his place on the counter and closed the space between you.

“You said you wanted to me to remember.”

He was now directly in front of you but you pressed a hand into his chest.

“Now I can turn you down because I need to shower.” You taunt, patting his chest before walking towards the bathroom.

“Did you know you tried to set me up with one of your friends?” You froze mid step and turned around to face him.

“I did what?”

“Mhm, you said that we would make a cute couple. Do you still feel that way?” His prussian eyes had a mischievous glint in them.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Of course not. I don’t even know why I would say that.” You said shaking your head in disbelief.

“What made you change your mind?” “What are you..” you slowly caught on to what he was doing.

You crossed your arms, tongue in cheek as you squinted at Bucky, who had an amused smile on his face.

“I need you to say it, doll.”

You shook your head no, your heart racing when he moves closer to you. Which you knew he could hear.

With every step he took, you took a step back until your back pressed against the wall. You fought the smile creeping into your face when he placed a hand next to your head.

“Please?”

TAGLIST:

@mostlymarvelgirl

@babezawa

@torntaltos

@railmesebstan

#black!reader #steve rogers x black!reader #bucky x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #series

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bad-at-names-and-faces · 1 year ago

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Tests

ao3

ffn

chapter index

August 31st, 1865

Dear Henry,

I’m happy to hear that you arrived back safely in Corona. What exactly do you mean about Hilde’s suspicions? You do have me a bit worried with the way you phrased that. I hope the official permission from your grandfather is coming along. You said everyone wished you congratulations, so I hope there won’t be too much stalling, even if I am resigning myself to waiting until next summer.

I’m very sorry I haven’t written as much, by the way, since you’ve written every day. My mother and I have started planning the harvest festival, and I’ve been visiting a friend who hasn’t been well. I think you met her husband, the captain of the guard. Frederick has his exam in a few days, so he’s been studying when he and his friends aren’t all taking a break from studying, and half the time they drag me with them for company. Still, I feel terribly negligent for not writing.

And I miss you. I start daydreaming about having you here again and then I forget I haven’t actually written. It sounds rather stupid, I suppose.

Oh, and it’s late now, so I’m fairly sure it will be your birthday by the time you see this, so happy birthday! I hope I’ll be with you to properly wish you a happy birthday next year.

Love,

Inga

Henry smiled as he read Inga’s letter. It had only been a few days since Inga had written, but he had started worrying, just a little bit. He knew that she might be busy, but he liked knowing that she thought about him as much as he thought about her.

The time was, in fact, quite late, and looking at the clock, he realized that it was now his birthday. It had been about a year since they had met. He grabbed a pen and paper.

September 1st, 1865

Dear Inga,

Thank you so much for the birthday wishes. You were right! I looked at the clock, and it is, in fact, after midnight.

I know you’re busy, so as long as you don’t mind if I keep writing every day.

My mother is helping my grandfather by researching what we need to do for my permission, but that’s only about diplomacy and politics. We still could just get married, you know. What do you think? Forget all our responsibilities and just run off together somewhere?

I don’t know if I want to be serious or joking in saying that.

I suppose I should get to sleep. I was working on a small drawing when your letter arrived, so I’ll include it with this letter. I hope you like it.

Good night.

Love,

Henry

Henry lay in bed for what seemed like a long time after sending the letter. He had never felt alone before, not like this. Not when he knew what he was missing.

0o0o0

Inga looked at the sketch Henry had drawn for her. It looked like a view from the palace in Corona. She wondered if it might be the view from Henry’s own room. Perhaps it was. She was about to put the drawing in the drawer with the others, but then stopped. Everyone now understood that she and Henry at least planned to be engaged, so there was no reason to be secretive about the drawings she had from him. She would display it on her wall.

She found some paste in a drawer that she hadn’t opened in years, but it had dried out, so she rang for Oline, who showed up remarkably quickly.

“Your Highness?” Oline asked.

“Do you think you might be able to find me some paste?” Inga asked.

“Paste?”

“Yes, or glue… you know, for paper?”

“I’ll see what I can find,” Oline replied with a quick curtsey as she left the room.

The dried-out paste had an odd smell to it, though Inga couldn’t quite decide what it was. It had been sitting there a while, though.

Oline finally returned. “I found this,” the maid told her, handing her a small jar.

“Thank you,” Inga replied, then handed over the old jar. “Could you dispose of this? I think it’s gone bad, and it’s dried out, anyway.”

Oline took the old jar and gave a sniff. “It smells just like dried paste to me, but I’ll certainly take it for you.”

Inga opened up the new jar, and instantly put the lid back on. It smelled, too. “Oline?” she called out just before her maid left the room.

“Yes?” Oline replied, stopping at the door.

“Does this one smell to you?”

Oline walked over, putting her nose near the jar as Inga opened it again. “A little. That variety always smells funny, I think.”

Inga thought for a moment while Oline stood there. “Could you do me a favor? I have this drawing, and I’d like to put it on the wall, but I really don’t think I can handle the smell. Would you mind?”

“Not at all,” Oline said, putting the old jar in the pocket of her apron. “Show me where I should put it.”

***

Henry woke up to the door shutting behind James, leaving from picking up a few things. He was happy to find a letter on his bedside table in the morning, and it was clearly from Inga.

September 1st, 1865

Dear Henry,

I feel like I should be the one sending you a gift today, but thank you so much for the drawing of Corona. I’ve put it up on my wall so I can see it when I wake up each morning. Perhaps you’re looking at the same view? I like that idea.

I need to find a better kind of paste if I’m going to be putting your drawings up. My maid brought me a jar of something so foul-smelling that I had to ask her to put up the drawing for me. I had her put up some of your older drawings that I had been keeping in my desk drawer previously, as well. It’s very nice.

Thinking of you.

Love,

Inga

Henry smiled at the fact that Inga had recognized the view from his window, and looked out, hoping that she was, in fact, looking at the picture at that moment. He went to the cupboard where he kept his art supplies. Perhaps he could send a jar to Inga.

***

Inga wasn’t sure she should be lingering outside the room where Frederick and his friends were taking the examination for Corona’s Naval Academy, but it had been several hours, and she hoped that Frederick would be done soon.

The doorknob rattled a bit before opening, and Inga stepped back, hoping it would look like she was just passing by the room. The Admiral from Corona stepped out the door, and held it open for the boys to leave the room. Their faces were blank and they all looked exhausted. The Admiral thanked each one as they exited, then went back in to ring for a servant.

Frederick hadn’t noticed Inga as he left the room, and he started walking along with the other boys, presumably to head back into town with them. Inga ran to catch up.

“Frederick!” she called out.

He stopped and swung around. “Inga!”

“How did the examination go?” she asked.

The other boys sighed. Frederick just nodded in their direction.

They kept walking, and Inga kept up.

“Well, it’s done now,” Inga said. “When will you find out how you did?”

“Later this week,” Frederick said.

They continued walking across the courtyard, heading toward town.

“Are you going out to celebrate now?” Inga asked.

“I suppose so,” Frederick chuckled. “I don’t know if we should call it celebrating until we know the results. But we were planning to go to Hudson’s Hearth now.”

“You’re welcome to come with us,” one of the boys said.

“I don’t want to interrupt your time together,” Inga said.

“Oh, come on! I’m sure Bjorgman won’t mind,” the other boy said.

Inga smiled a bit. “Would you two want to have your sisters coming along?”

“I don’t have a sister,” the first boy said. “What about you, Jorgensen?”

The second boy shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Your brother’s been telling us all about you.”

“Should I be worried?” Inga chuckled.

“Let’s just say, you should be glad he’s also told us about that other fellow,” the first boy said in a teasing tone, though it made her a little nervous.

“What?!” Frederick said, grabbing the boy’s shoulder rather firmly.

“Woah!” the second boy interjected, “Bjorgman, I think Dahl was teasing. Ease up!”

“Sorry,” Frederick muttered, his face red. “Inga, are you sure you want to come along?”

“I’m fine. I’ll assume it was a compliment, nothing more,” Inga insisted. “But if I’m joining you, I feel like I really ought to know more than your surnames.”

The two laughed.

“I suppose we don’t use anything besides surnames most of the time,” Jorgensen observed, sticking out his hand. “Lukas Jorgensen.”

Inga shook hands, and the other boy stuck out his hand before she had finished.

“Anders Dahl,” the other said, as Inga shook hands.

“Good, then we’ve properly met,” Inga smiled.

As they finished crossing the bridge from the castle into town, ahead of them, at the edge of the market square, her attention turned to some commotion as someone ran through the square.

“Frederick!” she heard Meibel shouting from the edge of the square, now running toward them. Inga supposed it wouldn’t be so bad if Meibel joined them now.

Inga waved. “Hello, Mei-”

“Inga! Frederick!” Meibel breathlessly interrupted Inga’s greeting as she got close. “You need to go to the castle and get Captain Olsen!”

“Wait,” Inga began, “is Isabel-”

“She’s not doing well. Edith couldn’t handle it and ran home, and Halima’s still there with Kate, and she told me to go find Siggy and…” Meibel stood, catching her breath.

“Frederick, go get Siggy,” Inga ordered. “Meibel, you go see if Edith is doing fine, and I’ll go join Halima.”

Meibel ran back home to find her sister Edith, and Frederick gave a quick wave to Dahl and Jorgensen before running back toward the castle. The other two stood not sure what to do.

"You two, just go have your lunch," Inga said, before turning and walking toward Isabel's house. She couldn't even remember the conversation a few minutes earlier, and felt like she was in a fog. Memories were intruding in her thoughts. She had never really been aware of her siblings' births, as they always seemed to happen late at night, or early in the morning, and the nanny was always quick to keep them occupied when it was happening, but she remembered, even though all of the younger children's births seemed to be uneventful, with her mother only resting a bit, she hadn't seen her mother for a long time after the twins were born. Frederick was too young to remember, but she was just old enough to remember that her mother was "sick" and her father hardly seemed to be doing much better.

Inga arrived at Isabel's door and could hear muffled orders being shouted from the other side. She took a deep breath, gave a slight push, and the door swung right open.

"Your Highness!" the maid exclaimed with a brief curtsey from the kitchen, before picking up a kettle of boiling water, presumably to carry up to the bedroom.

There was a metallic smell in the air.

"Inga?" Halima said, looking out from the door, her face understandably worried.

“Meibel didn’t tell me very much, what’s going on?” Inga asked as she walked up the stairs.

“Are you sure you want to come in here?” Halima asked, avoiding answering Inga’s question.

“I- I’ll be fine,” Inga said, knowing by now that her imagination was as bad as anything she might see.

Halima sighed and opened the door for Inga to come in. There was a doctor in the room, and Kate was sitting by Isabel’s head, holding her hand. Isabel was very pale, and looked pained, but seemed to be barely conscious of anything at all at this point.

“She’s lost a lot of blood,” the doctor said directly to Halima, not noticing Inga’s presence in the room, which Inga realized was probably for the best.

“Frederick went to get Siggy,” Inga said quietly in Halima’s ear. Halima nodded.

Inga noticed a commotion in the corner, and noticed a nurse tending to a tiny baby in the cradle. She walked over, and saw that the nurse was swaddling the baby, who was making little squeaking sounds, which she would have wanted to comment on if the rest of the room hadn’t been so serious and ominous. She stepped over to the nurse.

“The baby…” Inga whispered, not sure what she should be asking.

“A girl,” the nurse whispered back, “she seems healthy enough.”

Inga let out a sigh. “That’s good, at least.”

There was a loud rattling at the door downstairs. Inga made her way downstairs and opened the door to Isabel’s husband, looking pale, and Frederick standing behind him looking worried, as well.

“It’s a girl,” Inga said. “The baby is doing well.”

“And Isabel?” Siggy said.

“She’s… she’s not doing so well. Come upstairs,” Inga said, not sure how she was speaking as calmly as she was. It didn’t feel like her own voice.

Inga led Isabel's husband up to the bedroom. She could only assume that Frederick wasn't far behind the two of them.

The maid was coming out of the room with an arm full of towels and rags that had recently been bed sheets. Inga looked over her shoulder, and Siggy looked almost ill.

“She’s resting,” Halima said as they walked in.

Inga looked over, and saw that Isabel had been cleaned up, her dark hair tied up as best that, presumably, the maid and Kate could manage without disturbing her. She was asleep now, her breathing shallow but regular. Kate stood up as Siggy rushed over to the side of the bed.

The doctor walked in from having washed up, and seemed to recognize Inga for the first time since she had arrived there, giving her a somewhat surprised nod.

He spoke to Halima first, mentioning that he would stop by in town later with some suggestions for meals that would be best for Isabel, and after that, looking at Inga, added “I would like to speak to Captain Olsen alone now, if you please.”

“Kate,” Halima called over gently, “why don’t we go downstairs right now?”

Kate nodded, looking back at Isabel, and came with them. As they entered the hallway from the bedroom, the maid was returning with some clean rags. Halima put her finger to her mouth, and the maid nodded, understanding that she should make herself as unobtrusive as possible.

“Inga, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could you walk Kate home, please?” Halima asked once they got downstairs. “And if you see Destin, please send him here, please.”

Inga nodded. General Mattias had presumably been with the Admiral from Corona and Arendelle’s Admiral Sorensen discussing the examination results. He had officially been retired for several years, but he liked to keep busy, and discussing military academy candidates was about the right level of activity at his advanced age.

Kate was silent as they walked back into town. On a normal day, she would be bubbly and talking on and on with hardly time to breathe. Of course, her sister Edith was usually with her as well.

“Did Edith say anything earlier?” Inga asked, hoping it wasn’t too sensitive of a subject.

“No,” Kate said bluntly. “She just started crying and left.”

“Oh,” Inga replied. “I sent Meibel to check on her. I hope she’ll be okay.”

They got to the General and Halima’s home, which was next door to Hudson’s Hearth right on the edge of the market square. Kate pulled out a key from the chain on her neck and entered inside. Inga had never been over at their house when it was locked up before. It occurred to her that she didn’t know if there were locks to any of the doors in the castle. There had to be, but she couldn’t remember using any keys to any of the rooms.

As they came inside, muffled crying could be heard from upstairs. Meibel was sitting in a chair in the front parlor, looking like she couldn’t decide whether she was feeling petulant or worried.

“Edith won’t let me talk to her,” she announced as they came inside. She swallowed and added, “How is Isabel?”

“She’s resting,” Inga said.

“Have you seen Papa?” Kate asked Meibel, as the general was obviously not home.

“He might be next door,” Meibel said.

“Meibel,” Inga said, “why don’t you and I go check if he’s there? Perhaps Edith would like to talk to Kate.”

Kate nodded, and slowly walked upstairs, while Inga took Meibel by the hand and walked over to Hudson’s Hearth.

As Inga and Meibel entered Hudson’s Hearth, Frederick’s friends were sitting in the far corner of the dining room, talking loudly, and Inga was fairly certain they weren’t on their first round of drinks. General Mattias wasn’t in the room, so Meibel ran back to the kitchen to ask about him. Inga did her best to make herself inconspicuous as she stood by the door to the market square.

Just as Meibel came back from the kitchen, the General walked in from the square. Meibel, normally acting so grown up at Hudson’s, serving food to customers and taking orders, ran over to them.

“Meibel, what’s going on?”

“Isabel isn’t doing well,” she said, doing her best not to speak too loudly. “You should come there.”

“Where are the others?” the General asked.

“Captain Olsen is there,” Inga replied, “and Halima asked for me to find you and wanted you to come over. Kate and Edith came back home.”

“Can I go back?” Meibel asked.

“You can come with me,” the General replied. “Inga, can you check in on Kate and Edith?”

Inga nodded as the General and his ward, Meibel, left Hudson’s Hearth.

She walked back over to the house, knocking on the door, which was locked again. Kate opened the door.

“How is Edith?” Inga asked.

“She won’t let me talk to her either,” Kate said with resignation.

Inga looked up the stairs. “Shall I try?”

“I don’t see what harm it could do at this point,” Kate shrugged.

Inga quietly walked up the stairs, knocking gently on Edith’s bedroom door.

“What is it?” Edith called out, sounding like she was still crying.

“It’s Inga. I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

Edith opened the door. Her face and eyes were red.

“Look, if you’d rather be alone right now, I understand. I really do.”

“No, come on in,” Edith sighed.

Edith closed the door behind them as Inga walked in, and motioned for her to sit down on one of the chairs by the window. Inga sat down and looked outside at the market square and harbor. Inga had never been here or any of the girls’ bedrooms before, and watching the people going about their business in the market square like it was any other day transfixed her.

As Edith sat down in the other chair, Inga noticed a small book on the table, open with a loose photograph. Edith was touching it gently.

“What is that?” Inga asked without thinking, instantly regretting her question as soon as her eyes adjusted to the light inside the room and could see the details. The photograph was of a woman holding a baby, both appearing to be asleep, though Inga knew they weren’t sleeping.

“That’s my mother and brother,” Edith explained.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Inga said.

“I didn’t, not really,” Edith mumbled.

“What do you mean?”

“Not the way you know your brothers,” Edith said.

“Oh,” Inga replied, not sure what to say.

“Kate doesn’t remember any of it,” Edith continued. “And everyone else in the town was worried about your mother- I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound bitter.”

“I- no, please don’t apologize,” Inga insisted.

“Inga, you don’t mind that I’m telling you all this?”

Inga was taken aback by the question. “Why would I mind?”

She never minded people telling her things, but she suddenly realized that hardly anyone told her anything, not like this. Did she really know anybody here?

***

September 10th, 1865

Dear Henry,

I’m so sorry I haven’t written in over a week. I’m fine, as is my family, but you were correct that something was wrong for me not to write for so many days. You may remember I was telling you about my friend Isabel, the wife of the captain of the castle guard. She had the baby, a girl, who is healthy and doing well, but Isabel has been doing very poorly, and for several days no one was quite sure if she would make it. I think she will be fine now, but she’s still quite ill, and we’ve all been going over to help out.

I’m going to take my mind off that business this morning and meet with my mother to begin planning the harvest festival. It will be at the beginning of November, so I hope that you can find a way to visit. And thank you for the paste suggestion. You’re right, the one she brought up was rubber cement, so perhaps the one you sent will be nicer. I’ll ask my maid if she’s seen something arrive for me in the last few days.

Love,

Inga

Inga whispered for Gale, and released the letter out her bedroom window, then left to visit Isabel. She had a basket with treats from the castle kitchens, though she wasn’t entirely sure who would be eating them. Isabel was still only occasionally taking some broth, and mostly sleeping, and Inga couldn’t remember seeing Captain Olsen ever eating pastries. Perhaps they could be offered to guests. They were getting a lot of visitors, and Inga was rarely there with just the maid.

Soon after she knocked, the maid arrived at the door, looking rushed.

“Your Highness,” she said, curtseying.

“Is everything all right?” Inga asked.

“Nothing has changed,” the maid replied before noticing Inga’s face. “That is, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“Well, since you mention it, the nurse has taken the afternoon off, but there’s extra laundry I need to take out. If you could just watch the baby for a few minutes? The mistress is sleeping, and she wouldn’t be able to do anything, anyway.”

“Oh, of course!” Inga said, knowing from her youngest siblings that there wasn’t much to do with a baby this young, anyway.

The maid went to the back to gather up the mass of laundry into a basket and went out the back door. The baby was napping in a cradle in the front parlor, so Inga took a moment to walk upstairs and check on Isabel. She was sleeping peacefully, her breathing now gentle and regular, at least.

As she walked back down to the parlor, a wagon went by with a wheel that suddenly squeaked, which woke the baby. Inga picked up the little girl carefully and held her, keeping her from fussing too much.

Inga paced the room, gently rocking the baby up and down, as little Hallie slowly fell back asleep. Just then, a key turned in the front door, and Captain Olsen walked in.

“Oh, hello,” he said in surprise.

“Is that how I get greeted now?” Inga asked.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” he scoffed.

“Sorry, sorry,” Inga sighed, “I didn’t mean to be teasing like that, Siggy.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly replied. Inga looked a little more closely at his face, and realized he suddenly looked much older.

“I- I just didn’t realize you would be home this afternoon,” Inga said, then began to ramble. “And I’m alone here, since the maid needed to take the laundry, and I guess the nurse is out for the afternoon, but I’m surprised that nobody came in to replace her. My sister is over a year old now, so we could send her nurse over here a few days a week. You could think of it as a gift, I suppose-”

“How is she?” Siggy asked, looking at the baby.

“Sleeping again,” Inga said, looking down at the baby. “Would you like to hold her?”

Siggy nodded and walked over, as Inga gently handed the baby to him.

“Isabel has mostly been sleeping,” Inga added, realizing that he might have been asking about his wife.

“I know,” he said. “Craig has been taking some of my guard shifts so I can spend more time here. I’m giving him leave for all of December so he can visit his grandfather in Glasgow.”

“That’s nice of him,” Inga said, adding, “and for him, I suppose. I imagine he doesn’t get there very often.”

“I have a grandmother in Bergen, and I don’t even get up there very often,” Siggy said, latching on to a neutral topic.

Inga stayed where she was, looking at the baby some more.

“Does your grandmother visit Arendelle often?” she asked, hoping the conversation could continue.

“I’ve written to her. I suppose my grandmother will visit soon enough, but we do need to make sure that it’s a good time.”

Inga didn’t need to ask if he meant waiting for Isabel to be healthy enough to see someone from out of town.

“She’s a very sweet baby,” she said, stroking the baby’s cheek.

“Yes, she’s very precious,” Siggy said. “I hope she stays healthy, since...”

Inga waited for him to complete the sentence, but he simply sat down near the window, still holding the baby, and looked out across the harbor. She wasn’t sure if she should pry, and yet, lately, she had realized how little she knew about everyone else here.

Sitting down in the other seat by the window, she briefly took notice of some women standing at the corner nearby gossiping. She wondered how visible she and the captain were here in his parlor, but pushed the thought out of her mind.

“Siggy,” she began, “how is everything?”

He sat deep in thought for a moment. “I suppose I can’t complain. I have a beautiful daughter, and hopefully she will have a mother.”

“I don’t mean to assume, but…” Inga considered her words for a moment. “The way you say you can’t complain, it makes me think that something is wrong.”

Siggy gave a long, heavy sigh. “The doctor told me that if Isabel had any more children, she would almost definitely...”

In her mind, Inga could fill in the words he had left out. Siggy didn’t want to say out loud the idea that his wife would probably die if she had another child.

“Oh. That must be difficult.”

“I plan to focus on the good,” he said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of this.

Inga looked out again. The women standing nearby quickly turned away.

“Have you seen Frederick today?” Inga asked after a moment, hoping to change the subject.

“I saw the General and the Admirals going into the castle before I left, so I think they’ve finally settled on examination results,” Siggy explained, probably as relieved as Inga herself was for a different subject to discuss.

“Frederick has been so nervous about that,” Inga told him. “I’ve been telling him he’ll do fine, and I hope he does, because I don’t want to be wrong about this.”

Siggy smiled. Just then there was a knock at the door. He started to get up, but Inga shook her head at him, nodding at the baby, and got up and answered the door.

“Inga!” Meibel chirped as the door opened. Kate and Edith were standing right behind her.

“Oh, hello, Siggy!” Kate said.

“We didn’t know you were planning to come this afternoon, Siggy,” Edith explained, “or we would have come sooner.”

Siggy nodded.

“I should go check on Isabel,” Inga said. “You can keep your brother-in-law company.”

Inga walked upstairs, quietly entering the bedroom. Isabel was still sleeping, but looked like she was going to wake up soon, so Inga sat down next to the bed.

Isabel gave a small groan and blinked a bit, looking at Inga. “Hello,” she croaked out.

“Hello, did you rest well?” Inga asked.

“Not really,” Isabel admitted. “I have the strangest dreams.”

“Oh?” Inga commented.

“Where is the baby?”

“She’s downstairs. Your husband got home early, and your sisters are here, giving her lots of attention.”

Isabel smiled. “Do you like the name? I’m so glad that Siggy and I had talked about names before. I’d hate to think of him trying to figure that out while I was so ill. We had been talking about naming a boy for Siggy’s father, but that will have to wait.”

Inga forced herself to smile and nod. It was obvious that Isabel hadn’t been told anything about how serious her condition was.

“Has Frederick taken his exams?” Isabel asked.

“He has, and they might find out the results soon,” Inga told her. She remembered what Isabel had asked what seemed like ages ago. “I found out their names, by the way. Frederick’s friends, I mean.”

“Really?” Isabel chuckled.

“Lukas and… oh dear, who was the other one?” Inga paused. “Anders!”

“Do you remember which was which?”

“Oh, goodness, no, they told me-” Inga cut herself off, remembering why that conversation with Frederick’s friends had been cut short. “I can’t remember which was which. But those are their names.”

“Well, I’ll tell Kate and Edith and leave them to decide who is who. I heard you’re also planning the fall festival this year? I hope I’ll be feeling a bit better by then.”

“My mother and I only just started, but it should be about the same as last year,” Inga replied.

“Don’t talk that way,” Isabel chastised her. “This sort of thing is always harder than it looks to people who have no experience with trying to get everyone doing what they’re supposed to be doing.”

“Well, thanks,” Inga replied.

Edith and Kate walked in just then. Kate was carrying the baby. “I told you I heard her wake up,” Kate whispered loudly to Edith.

“Hello, you two,” Isabel smiled.

“We thought you might like some time with the baby,” Edith said. “Everyone else has gotten time with her today.”

“Thank you, that would be wonderful!” Isabel said, holding out her arms, though she wasn’t up to sitting up yet.

Inga stood up to let Kate and Edith sit by the edge of the bed.

“I should be getting home. Shall I come by tomorrow, Isabel?” Inga asked.

“Yes, please. You have a nice evening,” Isabel said.

Inga made polite apologies to Meibel and Siggy as she left the house and made her way back to the castle. She still hadn’t eaten that day, aside from the piece of toast her mother had forced on her. But there was so much to think about. She didn’t want to think about food.

She saw Frederick and his friends coming across the bridge laughing. The examination results must have been good. Frederick saw her and ran ahead to meet her, startling her by picking her up off the ground.

“I guess it’s good news, then?” she asked, laughing a bit.

“We all got in!” Frederick exclaimed.

“Well, of course you did,” Inga said.

“It was never a sure thing!” Frederick insisted.

“Yes, but you were studying, all of you were. I’ve seen you working at this all summer.”

Frederick blushed a bit. “Well, this time, would you like to come for an actual celebration?”

Inga smiled. “I’m a bit tired, but thanks for the offer. We can go out some other time.”

“Oh, fine.” Frederick looked almost sad.

“But you should all enjoy yourselves. You deserve it.”

“Thanks,” Frederick said, as his friends slowly caught up. “Let’s go!”

Inga walked into the courtyard. She could hear the twins and her father talking in the stables. She wouldn’t interrupt them. It was a beautiful afternoon, but she really was tired. She hadn’t been trying to avoid going back into town with her brother.

As she got to her room and closed the door behind her, some leaves were hitting the window. She opened it up, and a letter fluttered down to her bedside. It was from Henry. She tried to remember if she had written to him that morning. He had sent her some paste, which was oddly thoughtful, but she had been so distracted.

She opened the letter.

September 10th, 1865

Dear Inga,

I’m so glad to hear from you again. I hope your friend makes a full recovery, that sounds terrible. I do remember the Captain, he seemed quite nice.

It's good to hear that you’ve found the paste useful. I’ll have to come see what you’ve done with my drawings, as I always like to see when people have displayed my work. I’ve made plans to come in time for the fall festival, and I will have the letter signed by my grandfather with me.

Love,

Henry

Inga smiled at the thought of the council no longer having reason to hold off on an official engagement, though the wedding would probably still not happen until the following summer. No matter how often people promised that the time would go by quickly, it still felt so long.

#frozen fanfic #prince of two realms #OC Inga #1865

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svartalfhild · 1 year ago

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WIP Wednesday WHENEVER

Thanks for the tag, @late-nite-scholar! Tagging @wayfaring-rune and @celamity. Unfortunately can't think of anyone else who might be working on something right now, but if anyone wants to do it, go ahead!

This is a snippet from the ESO fic I'm working on that's another installment of my The Crow-Marked series. This one gets into detail about Vivethys's past and where she came from, and she finally finds out more about her origins as well as gets closure on a pivotal event from her adolescence.

This is the opening of the story. A little tooth-rotting fluff and Fjorun angst right before shit hits the fan.

Vivethys loved the lazy mornings she and her colleagues were granted on the first days following returns from missions. Captain Llaari called it part of their compensation for the particularly harrowing work they did as Covert Ops agents, and Vivethys could not be more grateful. She cherished the extra time she got to spend lying with Fjorun in his cot, quietly talking with him and admiring his handsome features. That sharp nose and jaw. Those thin, expressive lips. That soft and wavy black hair. That roguish hint of scruff. Those piercing eyes, blue and pale as glacial ice. She loved having the time to get lost in them. This particular early autumn morning, it was blessedly cool enough that she hadn’t awoken overheated and sweaty, and it was quite comfortable to be cuddled up to her man. He was still asleep when she awoke, but not for long, as she pressed a kiss to his sternum and ghosted her fingertips across his chest hair until he grabbed her hand and smiled without even opening his eyes. “Gothan morgen,” he greeted sleepily in Nordic before kissing her palm. “Dayn juli,” she echoed in Dunmeri and he opened his eyes to look at her with a drowsy but fond expression. “I was having the strangest dream.” Vivethys made a small sound of interest at this and Fjorun continued. “I was in Windhelm and the city was empty, except I found my grandparents in the street in front of the palace. They were wearing their armor, and they told me I had to help them escort the princess out of the city. I said Eastern Skyrim doesn’t have a princess, and my grandfather whacked me with the flat of his sword and said ‘Only if word gets out about what you’ve been doing with her,’ and then my grandmother told me ‘You’re just like you’re father.’ I may have gotten a bit petty and said something like ‘So are you. You also died in a war and left my mother to raise me alone,’ and then they turned into draugr and shambled away.” “That is strange. And dark.” “I haven’t even told you the strangest part yet. The Akaviri Invasion was nine years ago. I thought I’d forgotten what my grandparents faces looked like, but in this dream, I could recall them clear as day.” “Your spirit magic has been getting stronger. Perhaps they were drawn to you.” “If they came to me from Sovngarde, they certainly wasted the effort. More likely it’s just my mind digging up things it shouldn’t.” “Well, you’re awake now, and you’re with me, and I’m not going to turn into a draugr and shamble away,” Vivethys assured him, and he smiled, brushing her cheek affectionately. “No, definitely not a draugr. I think you might be a princess I’ve deflowered, though,” he murmured and she gave a mock gasp. “The scandal! But lucky for you I’m not really a princess. I’m nobody.” “You’re royalty to me,” Fjorun told her before pulling her into a kiss. “Are you two being mushy over there?” they heard their sniper, Minds-His-Business, call from across the tent as he sat up in his cot and stretched. “Yes, and I’m not sorry!” Fjorun replied and Vivethys giggled. No comment came from their healer, Jormvald, who they quickly realized wasn’t even present. He’d probably gotten up early, as he often did, to secure plates of good breakfast food from the mess tent for all of them. Gods, they were lucky to have him, otherwise they’d probably have some very unhealthy eating habits by now.

#tag game #Vivethys

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a-moth-to-the-light · 1 year ago

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Songs of the Summer, 2023: Intro & Rules

check out #my fave songs for my (admittedly inconsistent) past best-of lists! consistency is NOT my strength, but i have so much fun writing these & i want to practice finishing what i start, so i hope you'll have fun along with me :)

Intro: A Summer-y (haha)

My listening this summer has been embarrassingly chill. It’s not that I normally dislike really soft tracks—I’m a BOL4 fan, after all—but I definitely wasn’t expecting this many of them on my favorites list, and certainly not in the top spots. I like melodrama; I like shimmery, glitzy things; I like to dance. But this list’s color palette is beige, like a day where the sun is so bright, the heat so heavy, that it just kind of washes everything out. Even most of the dance tracks here are pretty toned-down—the kind you can leave on repeat while studying.

So, I don’t know, it just feels kind of weird. It’s not that there weren’t any big, exciting statement-songs this summer: Stray Kids and Ateez and Itzy had big, noisy releases, and I just… I don’t know, I couldn’t make myself care about them? My favorite song from the Itzy album isn’t even the cool, fast-paced rock track, which is what I usually like from them—it’s the muted, simple, repetitive “None of My Business”. And Dreamcatcher’s album, which I think is absolutely stellar, didn’t consume my listening nearly as much as it should have this summer. Instead, I found myself drawn to sleepy indie and end-of-album ballads. Do you see why it’s kind of embarrassing?

And I don’t think it’s that I didn’t have any fun this summer. This summer was actually pretty great, especially considering my how past few summers went. Comparatively, oh my GOD this summer was absolute heaven. Hell, maybe that’s why this list is less angsty. Maybe I’m sick of the angst, and I just wanted a nice, sleepy summer to balance out the others.

Or maybe it’s NewJeans fever. I still can’t stand “Attention” (I'm SORRY), but their laid-back style did finally get to me with “Ditto”, and so my obsession with barely-there, TikTok-ready music this summer might just be a reflection of the NewJeans trend hitting me a bit late. And anyway, strange as my list turned out, I like the songs I chose a whole lot, so I do stand by it!

There was another defining trend of this summer’s music for me: Barbie movie anthems. And not just songs from the Barbie soundtrack—the movie’s super-popular, super-iconic advertising seemed to kick off a trend of unapologetically mean-girl music, arrogantly teenage in a way that I find quite fun (& good for my confidence, too, as an obnoxious, girly teenage being-thing). I loved these releases, from Aespa’s “Spicy” in the spring, to G-IDLE’s “Queencard”, to Kiss of Life’s “Shhh” (though none of these are on the list, the mean-girl vibes will definitely show up). I’ve always loved when Flo Milli took on this kind of aesthetic, so it’s really fun to see 2023 become the year of hot pink, both inside and outside of kpop. Still haven’t seen the movie, but thanks, Barbie!

Rules

Songs on this list are from singles or albums released between May 12, my last day of spring semester, and August 21, my first day of fall semester. I hope to work in education for the rest of my life, so I figure it makes sense to let the school year determine my list! Though, because it takes so long for songs to grow on me, I’m willing to fudge the rules a bit to encompass some songs that, despite being released a bit before ‘summer’ started, were truly my Songs of the Summer anyway.

In keeping with my tradition, I’m allowing myself 14 list entries this year (plus some honorable mentions), one for every year of school I’ve completed since kindergarten!

Blame it on the creative writing class I’m taking this semester, but I decided to, alongside my usual description of why each entry made my list, write a little poem-thing trying to capture what each song feels like to me—not similarity in subject, but instead in atmosphere and sound, was what I was going for. So hopefully you’ll enjoy those as much as I enjoyed writing them, and hopefully they’ll be a good intro to the songs you haven’t heard of before!

#ITS HEREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE #my fave songs #songs of the summer 2023 #music review #kpop review

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one-winged-dreams · 2 years ago

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Mind Games

ship: kiss of a beast (sol the ultraviolet x azul the cerulean) source: final fantasy vii: dirge of cerberus words: 2776

Finally finished that Azul fic, and boy howdy I hope you guys weren’t looking forward to something TOO wholesome.

In which Sol is insane and Azul has fun with that.

also y’all get a little sol lore sprinkled in there

Do what you want. Stay out of the way unless you're needed, but don't cause trouble, or you'll return to seclusion.

Sol knew these rules well, they had been drilled into his head since before he could even remember. However long ago that was, he couldn't say. The workings of his mind were so utterly inconsistent he was often told it was even a wonder he was stable enough to be useful.

Damaged goods.

But even scrap metal can be tempered into something of worth, and he would be a very expensive dead-end project. The benefit outweighed the flaws, so he was allowed to continue existing.

Woe.

Even so, he was granted almost all the same freedoms as the rest of the Tsviets. To meander about, to roam through Deepground as long as he wasn't a hindrance.

He found himself drawn to the places just outside areas of communal gatherings. Briefing areas, busy paths, sometimes even minor socialization hubs on the rare occasion they popped up. But always on the fringes, never close enough to actually exist in those spaces.

Stay out of the way.

It had taken a while, but no longer did anyone pay any mind to the thing standing in the shadows, just out of sight for them but not for he. The uneasiness had traveled from the forefront to the back of the mind. Thinking about him wouldn't glean anything, even his visage was unreadable behind that literal mask of obscurity. So it was better to not acknowledge at all.

Sol greatly preferred it this way. Out of sight, out of mind was safe. Neither seen nor heard. He wondered if Shelke would agree with this sentiment. He wouldn't ask.

"Pulled out of the scrap yard again?" came a voice that brought him back to the place his body resided.

He looked up. And up.

"Azul."

The Cerulean's expression was something akin to smug.

"I haven't seen you skulking about for quite some time. Did they drop you off somewhere recently?" he paused, taking a confident step forward and making Sol lightly flatten against the wall. "Or maybe they locked you up again. Either way," he smirked, unapologetically taking up a portion of Sol's personal space, "you've been away a while."

The sudden sensation of an ice pick to the brain wracked Sol's head. He grunted, placing a hand against the side of it as he took a moment to try to sort through the haze.

"I don't... know," he replied eventually, his defocused eyes refocusing again. He found them trained on Azul as he returned to clarity, and he ripped his gaze away too late to realize the Cerulean wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't.

But the movement betrayed what would have been an otherwise concealed moment of shame, and though Azul made no obvious notion that he had found it humorous, the underlying demeanor spelled it out plainly.

"Is that right?" Azul huffed, to Sol's great embarrassment. "Little wonder your absence has been so prolonged if you struggle to recall even the cause of it."

Sol's composure faltered further, but only in the way of expression, of which this time he didn't betray. The feeling of brokenness being prodded at was almost unbearable, but he shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I've returned now, and I'll make sure to stay out of your way," he spoke in a voice struggling not to waver as he swiftly strode forward to leave.

Before he could pass his fellow Tsviet, however, he was stopped as Azul extended his arm to the side, blocking him off. He looked up at him, his helmet concealing his expression of confusion.

"Leaving so soon? Why, we've only just begun to catch up. Charmingly foolish of you to think yourself a bother enough to be remotely considered in MY way." The comment was underhanded and a bit cruel regarding addressing Sol's state, but the Ultraviolet had come to learn it was a type of something akin to affection expressed almost exclusively for him.

How fortunate.

Sol swallowed the lump in his throat for the third time now. "I... I only meant that I'd..." he paused, and Azul tilted his head as if to urge him on. "... Was there something... That you needed from me, Azul?" he ultimately asked, looking shamefully at the ground.

"Need? I can't see myself needing anything from you, no," Azul's words increased Sol's feeling of shame twofold. "WANT, however. Well. As far as company goes, it's fair to say you're the least bothersome."

Sol's head perked back up at this, another redundant expression of surprise crossing his face. Azul was far from the social type, he couldn't entirely wrap his head around the concept of him expressing a desire for company. The Tsviets in general weren't exactly known for their comradery. Rosso had even tried to kill him on a few occasions.

"... Company?" he ultimately asked redundantly.

Azul's subsequent laughter made Sol want to curl up into an ouroboros of shame, but he continued to do his best to stand stalwart.

"That mind of yours is a fickle thing, isn't it? Perhaps they let you out a little prematurely, you don't seem like you're quite back together yet," Azul spoke, seeming more than entertained by the Ultraviolet's state of perplexity.

The heat of Sol's face reflected back at him off his mask, burning him in an inferno of humiliation. "I d-don't mean to..." A deep breath. "I'm fine, Azul. I'm... functional. What did you want to talk to me about?" He did his best to sound composed as he lifted his gaze back up to the Cerulean.

Azul huffed, continuing to be amused by the toying he was giving his fellow Tsviet. "If you're implying I had a topic in mind, you're sorely mistaken. I only wanted to play with you a bit." The grin that followed was another proverbial strike across Sol's face, reigniting the burn he was trying to quell.

Sol pressed his lips together in a firm line. "Have I... entertained you at least?" A tinge of bitterness tried and failed to reach his voice, so instead, he forced an underlying tone of amusement in turn.

"Oh, now don't be like that," Azul seemed to catch the initial intent of Sol's words, "Although I admit, seeing your struggle at resolve churns my fondness for you."

Sol's eyes widened, and he recoiled. "F-Fondness???" he questioned, practically taking a step back in shock. Fondness? FONDNESS? He wasn't even sure Azul knew the MEANING of the word.

"Are you surprised? You've always been my favorite little toy," Azul's tone was playful though condescending. He took a step forward, and Sol instinctively shrunk back a step in turn.

The Ultraviolet's heart was racing, and he felt sweat bead against his skin. This was a typical reaction to feeling like a prey animal in the presence of a predator. His pulse hammered, and as his breath came out in quick, short bursts, his mind began to spiral into disorientation.

And yet the destination of that spiral was unconventional.

Fondness.

Did he like that? Did he WANT it? He was floundering in the haze that had shifted into something different deep inside his mind. Up and down, upright, sideways, all were impossible to discern.

So impossible it became irrelevant.

Slowly, his tension began to slack, straightening himself from his shrunken back position. "F-Favorite... toy?"

Azul grinned, more than familiar enough with Sol's evershifting shards of broken psyche to tell when he was in an agreeable state. The fact that he hadn't darted off like a frightened rabbit was also telling.

"Sol, we've played this game so many times that I'd have thought you knew by now. Why else would I take the time to track you down like this?" the Cerulean took another step forward, and this time Sol didn't back away.

That didn't mean he wasn't still trembling a little. His fog began to clear the further forward his mind progressed, but the destination was always different. Always transporting him to some other shard, some other facet of himself. Whether it was affected by Azul's words, his presence, or just chance, he could never say for sure. But this time, at least, it seemed to be a fun one. Or at least, that's what Azul had gleaned from his change in behavior.

"Were... Were you looking for me?" Sol's hands wrung in his lap, easing into the direction the conversation was headed. Wherever that might be.

"Now? Perhaps. But I think you mean to ask if I missed your presence during your absence," Azul's tormenting was relentless, when he likened this exchange to a game, it clearly was anything by hyperbole.

Sol gulped, his wringing hands tightening to fists. The shame was unbearable, every comment and quip increasing the pressure upon him like a vice. It was borderline torturous, and yet the more it wracked his mind, the more it began to become...

Fun.

In this shard, he, as it would seem, liked this game.

Throwing himself directly into the flames now, Sol struggled to speak. "D-Did... Did... you?"

Watching Sol humble himself to the shame, Azul reveled in the fact that this was the most fun he'd had in ages. As far as mind games went, who was a more perfect plaything than one whose mind itself was so unsteady and inconsistent?

He was having so much fun, in fact, that he realized the truth behind the very question he had asked. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he laughed and watched Sol crumple a bit. "But... Why don't we make this game more interesting?"

Sol's head perked at the proposition. Apparently, he, too, was having more fun than he thought. A twist to the game kept things interesting. Azul was good at this.

He tilted his head questioningly, silently expressing his interest. Azul was pleased, he knew the Ultraviolet wouldn't fail to disappoint now.

"I'll answer your question, but you must do something to... Raise the stakes a bit. Otherwise it's just boring, wouldn't you agree?"

Sol practically stumbled from the sudden spike in interest, a testament to his unstable state of mind. "Wh-what is it?" he struggled to speak coherently for a moment but caught himself.

Azul stared him down for a moment as if gauging the way the game could possibly continue. And then another smirk, his golden eyes narrowing to a squint. "Why don't you... Take that helmet off? It'll be much more fun if I can see your face."

He took pleasure in the physical recoil that wracked Sol's body, practically able to see the look of shock on his face in his mind's eye.

"B-b-but!" Sol sputtered, continuing to stare at Azul in astonishment. He recovered just enough to look around, shrinking into himself a bit. "Th-The Restrictors..."

Azul's smirk widened. "Yes, the Restrictors. If they knew you had removed a piece of your dampening equipment, I can't imagine how they'd react. Return you to confinement again, perhaps?"

That sent a tremor through the Ultraviolet, who was otherwise frozen as he met Azul's gaze. He knew confinement was the worst possible punishment Sol could imagine. Left all alone with nothing but his deep reserves of mako, practically tearing him apart without his aforementioned dampening gear. In a cell, the solitude slowly suffocating him until he reached a state catatonic enough to allow him to be released again.

Sol's own waking nightmare.

Azul watched silently as these thoughts raced through Sol's mind, keeping him frozen solid. Petrified with fear, perhaps. All for one meaningless game, nothing but a moment of pointless entertainment. The stakes far outweighed the fun, and Azul was absolutely uncertain of what this broken half-scrapped science project would do. But he was his FAVORITE broken half-scrapped science project, and his proposition still stood. The chance still presented to him directly.

And then the Ultraviolet violently shook his head once, but not as an answer. No, at that moment, his hands met the sides of the mako-flow-restricting helmet, pulling it off in one unceremonious motion.

Azul was promptly met with wide, black eyes with a singular violet ring fixed directly upon his own golden gaze. Such a soft face it was almost hard to forget he was made to be a killing machine. And the long black locks of hair that spilled over his shoulders as it was free of the helmet's restrictions. Azul remembered all of it, but it was refreshing on the more than rare occasions he got to see it.

The Cerulean bared his teeth in a wide grin of satisfaction. His subsequent laugh was loud and abrasive, Sol could practically feel it in his bones.

"There! Not even a moment for me to doubt! You play this game well, Sol," he praised, a rare concept for Azul.

Sol reacted in turn by blinking rapidly, his face still frozen into an expression of disorientation. The fear of punishment, the giddy anticipation of reward for his participation that had apparently excelled past expectation, it all mixed together into a tempest inside his mind. He stumbled again, but this time forward. And then another unsteady step.

"Like this-s-s, Azul...?" he questioned, his wide eyes fixed on Azul's with laser-like focus. It was as if he heard the praise and had forgotten about it all in one fell swoop. How dizzying the interior of his mind must be, ever-shifting as one thing after another was swept away by raging winds of instability.

Azul laughed again, though not as boisterous. "Yes, just like that," he offered his reply as he closed the distance between the two. He watched Sol's expression as he approached him, savoring it, but not nearly as much as he did the one that ripped through his perplexed visage as he gripped the Ultraviolet's jaw between his thumb and forefinger.

Sol looked as if he had been struck in the head by a heavy force -confusion, disorientation, and slight panic all rolled into one.

But Azul could see it. The inferno of neediness, the spark of satisfaction in being handled as he had been told he was.

A toy.

"I suppose it's about time for the game to end, isn't it? You've played it well, Sol. Truly, I wouldn't have had nearly as much fun with anyone else. So it goes. Do you really want me to answer your question now? Did I miss your presence for the long period of your ambiguous absence?" Azul's thumb stroked the side of the Ultraviolet's face as he spoke, watching his eyes light up as he did so. The firing synapses practically arced across his eye sockets, or maybe that was just the now-unabated conversion of mako to energy, now that his helmet had been removed.

Sol half-choked on his anticipation, blinking through the sparks and nodding his head as best as he could as it was held in place by Azul's massive hand. "Y-Yes! I had... A lot of fun too! So..." he trailed off, and the Cerulean huffed.

"Alright, little toy. I'll tell you," he taunted once more, leaning down as much as he could despite the massive difference in height. As if determined to close that space, Sol stood on his toes, stretching himself upward as much as he could.

The distance was further than either would have liked, but just close enough to be intimate. And with that, Azul offered a smirk and three words.

"Maybe a bit."

Sol nearly fell over as the grip on his face relented, Azul pulling away to leave him grappling for balance and nearly dropping his helmet. By the time he had composed himself, Azul had turned around, presumably to leave.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Sol. Your entertainment was most appreciated. I'll be sure to hunt you down next time I get bored. Try not to get thrown back to the scrapheap," Azul taunted, not once looking back at the trembling Tsviet before taking his leave.

And Sol watched him go, his gaze burning into his back until he could see him no longer. He stood for an indiscernible amount of time before remembering he was still in the process of breaking an essential rule, shoving his helmet back on as if his life depended on it. If only it did.

Feeling the rush of mako leave his head, the haze began to return once more. His thoughts began to slow, blurring and disorienting him again. And though his thoughts faded away, his feelings clung to those last remaining vestiges of what had just transpired.

A dazed smile formed of its own accord.

“That was... fun!”

#self ship #self shipping #dream fics #kiss of a beast

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veryfancydoilies · 11 months ago

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Hello again! it’s your 🎅🏼

I hope you’re doing alright with your studies. I recently finished graduate school so I get where you’re coming from. My best advice—study well but also take time to care for yourself, I think that’s very important.

I LOVE Elizabeth Taylor! She’s actually one of my favourite hollywood actresses. I love her acting in the film/shakespeare play Taming Of The Shrew. I think she really nailed the main protagonist’s attitude and mannerisms in that one. I think she’s a beautiful person inside and out. I think my top favourite old hollywood actors/actresses would have to be Elizabeth Taylor, like I mentioned, Judy Garland, Julie Andrews, Olivia Hussey, James Dean, Clint Eastwood, Robert Redford, just to name several.

Oh yes, those classic 90s films! they are always ever so nostalgic, aren’t they? It’s so endearing..

RAY DAVIES yess!! i love him dearly. He’s one of my top favourite musicians. He’s incredibly talented not only as a musician, but also an actor! I don’t know if you’ve seen his film Long Distance Piano Player but he is soo so good in that! Have you got any favourite Kinks albums? I never really appreciated their sound until this year and funny enough, I’m unusually drawn to their 60s stuff more so than their 70s stuff. Not sure why that is really, but there’s something unique about that early Kinks sound.

By the way, I don’t know if you’ve answered this yet but what is your favourite era for music? 60s? 70s? 80s? I’ve always been a fan of 60s-70s music so I’m always biased towards those two decades of music.

Great pick with those tracks by the way! And hm..let’s see..for the music asks: questions 1, 2 & 20 if you have the chance to answer :)

As always, it’s great chatting with you. Hope to hear from you soon!

Hi! First of all, I’m very sorry for my late reply!! I’ve been very busy with finals. I haven’t even decorated my tree! But thankfully I am now done with them all. So you finished graduate school? Good for you! I might go to graduate school myself but I want to test the waters a bit before committing to one first. I’d like to do an internship. What do you study? I’m a history major myself.

Yeah Elizabeth Taylor seemed like a very lovely person. I like her friendship with Montgomery Clift. Do you watch the earlier films she did as a child. I really enjoyed National Velvet and her small role in the Jane Eyre movie with Orson Welles and Joan Fontaine. I remember looking at her when I was younger and thinking she was so beautiful. Oh Olivia Hussey, another beautiful actress. Did you watch the 1968 Romeo and Juliet movie in high school? I think she was the best on-screen Juliet! I’ve seen a few of her other films All the Right Noises and Black Christmas. I’d like to see her in Murder n the Nile too. My favorite actors from era are Joseph Cotten, Leslie Howard, James Stewart, Edward G. Robinson, Ray Milland, and Vincent Price. Since it’s Christmas time, I’cpve been in the mood to watch classic Christmas movies. What are your favorites? I like The Lion in Winter (1968). Katharine Hepburn and Peter O’Toole were so good together! And the dialogue is terrific!

Yes Ray is amazing! Attractive too 😍. I’m aware of that Long Distance Player film but I’ve never watched it. But since you like it, I might watch it one of these days! I’d like to watch The Beatles movies too. I think Something Else and The Kinks are Village Green Preservation Society are the best. I even have a Something Else vinyl. Do you have vinyls? I also a Abbey Road from my dad. I totally get what you mean saying the Kinks sound unique from other artists from that era. I love the hint of humor in their songs.

I’ve explored 60s music more than any other era so I’m biased towards it but I like music from the 70s and 80s. In fact I remember a poll on Tumblr that asked which decade was the best. I chose 60s but the 70s were clearly in the lead. Do you think that’s the general consensus of classic rock fans? I guess maybe people tend to think of the 70s when it comes to rock music but what do I know? What other artists from the 60s do you like? I also like The Monkees, Herman’s Hermits, and The Electric Prunes.

Thanks for the asks! Here we go…

1. Catchiest song

Emily, Emily, can you see there’s nothing you can do? There’s loving everywhere but not for you. I sing this song to myself so much. I love it so much. I could listen to it over and over.

2. A song you didn’t expect to see in your Spotify Wrapped 2023

I knew I play this song a lot but I didn’t really expect it to be in my top 10. I thought if a Kinks song was going to be make it in, then it would be Sunny Afternoon or Death of a Clown. The only other Kinks song was So Long but I think that’s mostly because it’s at the top of my 60s playlist. Both great songs.

20. Happiest song

My favorite season is summer and this song is about the beginning of summer so I loved it instantly. It has such a happy and heartwarming sound! I love it! I imagine a beautiful summer day when I listen to it. What’s your favorite season by the way? Keith Relf was a member of the Yardbirds. This is one of his solos. I was sad to read that he passed away suddenly at a young age :(. He clearly still had so much to offer.

Anyways, thanks so much for stopping by! Happy Holidays to you!

#secret santa

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minseologs · 1 year ago

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What kind of future?

Longing.

Longing is the word that she frequently associated her life with. Longing for a family to love and be loved by. Longing for better hold of her fortune. Longing for someone to hold her when needed. She was never content.

Minseo arrives at the high rise building with a content demeanor. The sun graces her presence as if nothing was to destroy it. One could tell she meant to be there, and that everything was as it should be.

“Mama!!” A child’s voice shrieks down the hall with excitement. It brought a smile on her face too.

“Jinwoo-yah, what did I tell about indoor voice when you’re here?” She stoops to his level, who was taller than kids his age. A healthy eight year old. “People are working and make sure you greet everyone, yes?”

“Mm!” The child bows to his mother, making sure to bow for the rest of her office staff as well before he asks for his hand to be held. The two walk side by side with joy in their faces. “Mama, I want a surprise for papa later with this.” There was a drawing of them, the whole family including her parents. It was doodled on imperfectly with crayon, and she couldn't help but giggle at how terrible it looked. "…what's so funny?!"

"Well..." She props the child on her lap as they face her desk. Minseo had always been honest, even with him. The child's face lights up, because she was smiling. "I tell you what—we can ask papa, or maybe Auntie Hyeseo, and you can ask her for money-"

The child gasps at thought, jumping off her to retrieve his school bag and draw more things. It was silly, but she knows her own sister would play along.

"Miss Choi, your phone."

"Yes, papa?"

"Will I be expecting you for dinner?" His voice was far, as though he wasn't near it at all. Her mother’s voice chimes in out of the blue. "What about our Jinwoo?"

"Yes of course, we'll be there on time." There was shuffling, like papers. Her eyes dart to where her son should've been, but only traces of crayons and papers were on the floor.

“Minseo—?”

The sudden stillness of the room becomes prominent, that she couldn’t help but put the phone down. There was muffled voices that kept going in the other line, but it felt strange. Like she wasn’t there. Or, rather, what she was seeing wasn’t there. Her eyes noticed the frames in front of her had now become distorted into blur, she couldn’t quite make out who was around her in one of the photographs.

“Come ba—ck— soo—n…!”

“Minseo?”

Her eyes avert back to the person in front of her. The doctor scribbles things on his notes, and her chest tightens to a deep sigh just hearing it. She waits for him to comment something else while she looks at the frames of his family on his desk. One was of a painting drawn by a child.

“You haven’t been taking your medications, have you?”

“No. I’ve not,” she was honest, though the other could probably know her at this point. “But I do promise that it’s under control. I’ve been getting a hand in a few hobbies, I’m always busy in a good way and not over working—“ she shrugs. “I haven’t had any surprises— I suppose.”

“Shooting someone you know very well is a bit of a surprise.”

“Wenhan’s fine. That’s between you and me.” The doctor realized she clenched her jaw saying this, and she caught on. “Forgive me, I just don’t like bringing him in my problems. I’m taking care of him— wait, can we please have a different example—? I didn’t lash out yesterday— I took my anger out while exercising—“

“Are you going to wait until you get worst, then?”

Minseo couldn’t answer a simple thought. Her eyes draw down to her own hands that clenched shut. She hasn’t been proud of her life lately, but she wanted to try. Even romanticizing the thought she can really move past this. Do things like be on dates, actually have a conversation with her friends without picking a fight, be able to positively let her emotions be.

“I haven’t visited Jinwoo lately.” She confesses, beginning where she could remember. “It’s not that I don’t want to see him. It’s just— I get so angry with myself. And I know it wasn’t my fault and I knew it was never on me— but still. I’m angry for myself for not giving a future when I could’ve left. Everything. Now that I’m actually giving myself a chance to move on, something always pushes me down. This time around I can’t and it feels empty. I kept holding on with what was left of me—even though I hated myself, I miss my old self and the way I was. I keep telling myself this is a dream. It’s not real. I wanted to wake up with relief and wait for a good morning or something—“ teardrops rain on the back of her hand, she didn’t realize her emotions had spoken for her too. “To this day, I still wonder what kind of future I’ll have. I just want to let this go.”

“You can start here.” The doctor gives her paperwork with all that they’ve talked about. It appeared her assessments were in great remarks. “Listen, Minseo, I know I work for you, and I’ve heard many stories and falsified many documents. But I think you can really work this out. People aren’t kind, most especially the ones we surround ourselves underground— but I know you can handle this without having to give up Choi Resorts.” Her lips purse at the thought and just nods. The doctor leaves the room, leaving her prescribed medication, even though he was aware she won’t take the medication.

The feeling of longing comes again as she leaves the building, looking back behind her as the high rise walls greet her goodbye. She looks around in hopes perhaps she would have lapsed imagination again, but her mind plays the thought of only showing her when she needed it.

It was like hope.

It was hope that was also present in every longing. It gave her a sense of reality to accept that although things she wanted was a bit out of reach, she realized she could move on if she acknowledged it. To process them, and forgave herself.

That was the kind of future she wanted for herself.

#cms:story #this was a Drabble #I was listening to the saddest fucken song bruv #uhuhuhu #some good things coming tho!!

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lovelytsunoda · 2 years ago

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teenage dream // george russell

summary: george goes all out when he finds out his girlfriend missed out on the experience of having a teenage romance.

pairing: george russell x female reader

warnings: mentions of sex & suggestive content, inexperienced reader. geochalex being chaotic.

authors note: welcome to the katy perry throwback series! lately I’ve been shockingly into her first two albums so here I give you a series for basically anybody I usually write for that wasn’t covered by the one direction series.

this one is so personal to me because I also missed out on having a teenage romance so I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do.

“so, george, how’s y/n?”

the mercedes driver rolled his eyes, sticking his middle finger up at the computer screen even though he knew alex couldn’t see, the screen filled with the latest game of apex legends that he and his closest friends were playing to waste the night from their respective parts of europe.

“she’s great, we’re great.”

he could practically hear charles rolling his eyes. “you’ve been acting strange for the past week and a bit, something is wrong mate.”

“nothing is wrong. in fact, since she moved in with me, I think our relationship has gotten stronger.”

“have you guys…” alex trailed off before clearing his throat “you know, have you guys had sex yet?”

“I don’t understand how that’s any of your business, alexander.” george huffed, leaning back in his gaming chair.

but the truth was, he hadn’t slept with y/n yet, and it was starting to make him nervous, wondering if he was doing something wrong.

she was so shy and quiet that it had taken the brit two months just to make sure that kissing her wouldn’t scare y/n off.

they’d been together for just under a year, and the farthest they had gotten to having intercourse was y/n letting george go down on her.

he had never even seen her without a shirt on.

“It’s my business because it’s weighing on your mind and it’s bothering you. we just want to help you.”

“well, no. we haven’t.” george sighed, pausing the game and running his hands over his face. “I know she’s shy, and she’s nervous, but she means so much to me and it’s killing me to think that I might not be making her comfortable enough for her to let me see her like that, or maybe she feels like she can’t talk to me about it-“

“george.” charles cut him off. “I know you want to avoid this conversation, but I think you need to talk to her about this if it’s bothering you so much.”

“I know, I just-“

“georgie? it’s late, baby. come to bed.”

george smiled, turning slowly in his chair, eyes lighting up when he saw y/n standing in the doorway. the love of his life was dressed in her favourite short-sleeved flannel pajama set: white with soft pink hydrangea flowers dotting the fabric.

“yeah, baby, I’ll be up in a second.”

“is that y/n?” alex shouted, his voice carrying through the headphones george was wearing. “hi y/n!”

“is that alex? can i say hello?” y/n smiled, reaching out a hand for the headphones.

george passed them to her, and she slipped them over her head. “hi alex, hi charles.”

“hi y/n!” both drivers chorused.

“lily wants to know how book club went? she wants to know what book to go out and buy next.” alex starting talking, charles quick to talk over him.

“I think george needs some attention, hes been spending too much time moping lately.” charles interjected. “he sounds like a man who needs his dick suck-“

“okay, charles, that’s enough,” george cut the monegasque off mid sentence, taking the headphones back. “good night, jackasses. I’ll call you in the morning.”

half an hour later, y/n was curled up in bed with a copy of lucy foleys ‘the guest list’, smelling like bath and body works and looking stunning, reading glasses perched on her nose.

george slipped into bed next to her, her eyes instantly drawn to the tight cotton shirt he was wearing, the hen tucked loosely into his flannel pajama pants with the different marvel superheroes on them. she bookmarked her page, placing the paperback on her nightstand before leaning over and quickly pressing a kiss to george’s lips.

“good night, gorgeous.” she said softly, slipping underneath the covers and curling into georges side.

george hesitated. “actually, honey bear, there’s something i wanted to talk to you about.”

a worried expression formed on y/n’s face, a bad feeling forming in the pit of her stomach.

“baby, what’s wrong?”

“it’s nothing bad, don’t be scared. I just, I was thinking earlier that we’ve been together a year now, and I’ve never seen you take your shirt off, and we’ve never really been intimate in the sense that we haven’t….”

“we haven’t fucked yet, right.” y/n said softly, lacing her fingers with his. “georgie, I’ve never told you this, but you’re my first everything. I never had the experiences that most people my age have, I never had a high school love, never had a one night stand at a college party. I’d never even been kissed before you.”

george felt like an asshole. “honey bear, I’m so sorry, I had no idea. please don’t feel like I’m pressuring you. we can take this at your own pace, whenever you feel ready, I’m be right here. I love you, angel.”

“I love you too.”

as george fell asleep that night with y/n in his arms, all he could think about was all the experiences that y/n must have missed out on.

and what he could do to make them all up to her.

———————————

you think I’m pretty, without any makeup on

y/n stood in the middle in the ensuite bathroom, dragging a plastic brush through her hair as she stared at her plain, delicate face in the mirror, an unopened tube of mascara lying on the countertop as george came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“you look beautiful, honey bear.” the mercedes’ driver cooed, pressing a gentle kiss to her neck, twisting the urge to slide his hands up the front of her white blouse.

he would wait for her to tell him when she was ready.

“thanks, babe.” she smiled softly, and it set butterflies loose in the drivers stomach.

she truly was perfect.

as y/n reached for the mascara tube, george slapped her hand away. “you don’t need that. you’re stunning without any makeup whatsoever.”

———————————

now every februrary you’ll be my valentine

it was late when she got home, and the large house, the house that usually felt somewhat less cavernous and wide when her boyfriend was around, felt empty like it had ever since george had left for bahrain. she had gone with him to the airport in gatwick and had cried before reluctantly letting him go with the rest of the mercedes team.

being a working woman and dating a man with a schedule as complicated as George’s wasn’t always easy, but she kept saying she could handle it.

she leaned over the post box to check for mail, her foot caught the edge of something soft.

she looked down, her heart filling with love as she looked at the massive bouquet of roses sitting on the front stoop, an envelope tacked to the front.

“oh, georgie.” she said to herself with a smile, struggling to hold the bouquet and get the door open at the same time.

after getting herself settled inside the house, and placing the roses in a vase on the kitchen table, she opened the card.

hope you had a good day at work, my love. miss you lots already. it’s way too hot here, and this is supposed to still be winter weather. hope you’re keeping warm!

love you, my valentine.

- george

with a giggle, she pulled out her phone to video call george and thank him in person. because of time zones, she wasn’t sure if george would even still be awake.

“george’s phone.”

“hi, toto.” y/n grinned, waving at the austrian.

george’s team principal had quickly become a very important person in the young couples lives, and whenever y/n needed to talk to someone who knew what dating a driver was like, and the mental toll that the constant weekends away that she couldn’t follow her lover for was pressing in on her, she found comfort in talking to totos wife susie.

“ah, y/n! you look well! george just came back from a meeting with his strategist, let me go find him for you.”

“thanks, toto. tell susie I miss her, we should get coffee next time she’s in london.”

moments later, george was on the phone, his smiling face and wide blue eyes filling the camera.

“hi honey bear! did you get the flowers?”

y/n giggled. “of course I got the flowers! babe, valentines day was weeks ago. you didn’t need to get me more roses. carnations would have done just fine.”

“but you’re my valentine all year round, darling.” george continued, a wide, lovesick smile on his face that made her heart swell.

“I love you, you big idiot.”

“I’m offended.” george joked, pretending to be upset at the jibe. “I love you too, baby. I’ll be home real soon, and I can’t wait to have you with me in australia.”

———————————

let’s go all the way tonight, no regrets, just love

“he crosses the line, and george russell is your pole sitter this hungarian grand prix !!”

y/n was ecstatic, jumping up and down excitedly in the lounge area of the garage, bright green mercedes headphones over her ears. she was beyond proud, watching the green and silver car back into the garage, the engineers, mechanics and strategists getting to their feet and cheering for the driver as he stepped out of the car.

y/n took off her headphones, hanging them over the monitor before she ran over to her boyfriend, her entire body seized with want as george ran his fingers through his hair, race suit tied low around his hips, abs straining against the fireproofs he wore underneath.

“I’m so proud of you!” she gushed, throwing her arms around george as he picked her up, spinning around in a few quick circles before he placed her back on the ground, kissing her hard and deep.

“we should celebrate.” george said gleefully, still trying to catch his breath. “order room service, watch an absurd comedy movie, maybe something with zombies? and then we’ll cuddle. lots and lots of cuddles, I think.”

that was what sealed the deal for y/n. she had already decided that hungary was going to be the weekend. the weekend that she gave george her everything, let him see her completely.

she kissed him softly, one hand slowly sliding down his chest. “or, I think I have a better idea.”

“yeah?“ george hummed. “what’s that?”

“I’m ready, george.” she said softly, slipping her hand down the front of his race suit to play with the waistband of his jack & jones underwear. “I want you.”

the drivers breath hitched. “seriously? god, I love you.” he kissed her quickly, pulling her close. “if you can contain yourself for an hour while I do media, I’m gonna take you back to our hotel and show you just how much i absolutely adore you.”

aside from when he went to the media pen, y/n was always at his side, their hands clasped together. the tire drive home, george always kept one hand on the wheel and one hand with hers. when they got to the hotel, he swept her off her feet, carrying her bridal style back to the room before laying her softly on the bed, leaning over her body to kiss her.

“I love you so much, baby. you’re in control tonight, okay? this is all about you, and I want you to feel how much I love you.”

later, after they had both come ( and it was the quickest george had ever come but he wasn’t even complaining about it because absolutely nothing could compare to the feeling of finally doing it with y/n, the love of his life) they were curled up next to each other, still fully undressed as george peppered her shoulder with gentle kisses, y/n sighing contentedly in his arms.

“you okay, honey bear?” he said quietly, voice husky. “do you need anything? glass of water, a coffee?”

y/n turned around in his arms, gently kissing the bridge of his nose. “I’m okay, baby. just a little cold. can you grab me a shirt?”

george was out of the bed in a flash, rotting around in his suitcase for a fresh shirt. one that he had worn already simply wouldn’t do for his princess.

he playfully tossed her the cotton tee before rooting around in y/ns suitcase for the large plastic hairbrush before rejoining his girlfriend in bed, overcome with love as he sat behind her, running the brush through her hair.

“can we still order room service? I was thinking about that the entire cool down lap and now I’m all excited.”

y/n laughed. “of course we are. and we’re watching the hangover as well, just like we had already planned.”

and then they kissed.

———————————

got a motel and built a fort out of sheets.

the house was dark when y/n came home. she had gotten stuck in traffic on her way out of london and wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and cry. george wasn’t due home from belgium for at least another twelve hours, and she had never missed the man more.

she was sweating in the summer heat, white tennis skirt sticking to her body as she took her high heels off, enjoining the feeling of her bare feet on the marble tiles as she crossed into the kitchen.

she had missed the suitcases sitting in the doorway.

y/n froze when she made it to the kitchen, staring in the direction of the den that lead out to the patio. the dining room chairs had all been pushed into the living room, in a large circle, draped in the grey cotton sheets from her and georges bed, a soft glow coming from inside.

and in the middle of it all was the man himself, george emerging from the sheet-fort to simply say “hi honey.”

“georgie!” she shouted, launching herself at the driver and wrapping him in a hug, peppering his face in kisses before their lips finally meet. “but how?”

“I got toto to put me on an earlier flight. I just had to come home to my girl.” the driver grinned, kissing y/n again. “come, let us waste the night away in my humble blanket fort.” george grinned to himself, pulling the sheets back to allow her to crawl into the fort.

the floor of the fort was covered in pillows, the duvet from the bed spread across the floor, fluffy blanket lying on top. an unmarked pizza box from costco sat on a tray in the middle, a projector pointed at the sheets.

“george, this is amazing.”

“anything for you, my sweet valentine.” george hummed, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a gentle kiss to her head.

“hangover part two?” y/n suggests, powering on the projector

“hangover part two.”

#lovelytsunodas katy perry series #george russell x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #george russell #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #Spotify

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