#and no burnt toast in sight we are blessed

[lumosed]

Thoughts after a long day and a lit ep of Teen Wolf 1) we don't deserve @itsalwayslydia's sharp and bright mind. Her theories are literal fire. 2) I don't deserve @rongasm, she makes me cry minimum once a day in the best way someone can make you cry

[remsmoonlight]

— title : glitter in the sky

— word count : 2.3 k words

— pairing : loki x reader

— summary : before putting into place his plan for thor’s coronation, he seeks you out one more time for comfort only you can provide

— warnings : maybe a teeeeeny bit of thor bashing but incredibly minor .. love ‘im fr , bit of sadness

         ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　requested ? nope　/   requests are open  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

an: i got this idea, first from watching the first thor movie because aw, and then moving onto silent hill and that field scene is a whole vibe..... who doesn’t wanna just chill randomly in a field with the sun on your skin with no responsibilities? hell yeah .. anyways this just got away from me in a way ha

Trailing your gaze up to the sky, your eyes marvel at the merging colours as you study them intently, witnessing the blend of hues and tones from a bright blue to a mixture of warm pinks and burnt oranges light up the surrounding area before you knew they would fade into nothing more than a dark blanket who’s only source of light would be the moonlight and the stars that would litter it.

Your shoes crunching the dry grass and the sounds of chirping from the various wildlife encompasses you, it takes all of your strength to not allow a large grin to brighten your features.

Despite being so late in the afternoon, time walking on a fine line towards the early evening, the heat from the sun is still so strong, comfortably toasting your skin as a heavy blanket on a cold winter’s night would.

In the distance you’re able to spot the intimidating stature of the aged tree, though it’s intimidating in name only  ⎯  for now it holds only those memories that lay locked deep within your heart. Your situation is a rather unusual one. Many summer afternoons had been spent shielded from the harsh rays of sunlight that shone over everything it could touch, though they hadn’t been spent alone. Rather, they’d been spent with an exceedingly phenomenal man. Can he even be called that? You wonder to yourself, Loki was far from human. Far, far from it.

“ to think I had been of the belief you would not be appearing. “

The suddenness of the voice slicing through the noises of the concealed fields would have shocked you more had it not been so honeyed. Holding the recognisable smoothness that you only associated with Loki.

“ this is the first time I’ve ever been late, thank you very much. “ you answer with an unwavering nerve as you stare at him while amusement floods your expression.

“ and the last, I’m sure? “ an eyebrow raises as he questions you, a warmth brightening his aura against the coolness he exudes normally.

Believing he’s not of Earth had been hard for you to grip, to believe fully, no matter how many tricks he could conjure before your very eyes. Though disappearing right before you, then feeling the whisper of his breath dance on the back of your neck so gracefully had been the confirmation you required. From there on a friendship blossomed into something more, you both becoming more and more involved with the other. Holding such unbelievable secrets were not a common place for you, to have this continues to make you feel like such a special soul.

“ oh, shut up! “

You stroll towards him, closing the distance with an enthusiastic energy that not even the longest of days could wear you down. Nothing in the world makes you feel so secure and guarded than when you finally feel the weight of his arms snake around you to bring you forward into his embrace. For Loki, you are a home away from home. Never do you gaze upon him with untrustful eyes, nor do you view him as beneath you, many negative connotations are attached to his name and you? You simply see him for who he wishes he could be, only ever in your presence does he try not to disappoint you. Back on Asgard that’s all anyone ever expects, so why not play into their prejudices? It has protected him so far, though the thought that perhaps even that has done more harm than good tresspasses into his mind on a rare occasion.

It’s not something he wishes to think about there though. He wants to dedicate his short visit to you entirely. Pushing away the increasingly regular thought it’s just a heartbeat, he is not one to be naive to pretend. Illusions are second nature to him, to forge them as easily to breathe, but to experience them are something that is in his power to prevent. He could allow this one instance to be selfish.

“ might I inquire of your wellbeing since we parted last? “ he requests as fingers entwine with yours to guide you to the slight hollow space within the tree. You drop yourself without any elegance to the ground, he settles behind you with his legs on either side of yours.

You can’t help but marvel at the differences between the two of you, like night and day. However, your differences fit like a puzzle with no inconvenience.

“ life keeps trying to test my patience, same as ever but ⎯ “ you pause, your eyes shining with remembrance of the gift you had brought, of course you knew it’s nothing more than a silly little trinket but you couldn’t help but fall in love with it. “ here, my friend’s been making these pieces for their business and I couldn’t help but think of you. “

Adoration is the only thing that overwhelms him in this moment, it’s a feeling he wants to lock away to relive over and over, for the only time he has never been treated as an afterthought is by his mother. Now? It’s a feeling that hasn’t been forged by a bond born of blood, but one that has arisen naturally. The item in your hand is a small metal band, with designs etched onto its body.

“ it’s only a little thing I know ⎯ “ you begin to babble, the words tumbling before you could even stop them. Your mind losing all control over your language before Loki put a stop to it.

“ I’ll have you know it’s not the physical item itself, but the sentiment behind it I hold dear. “

You want to respond with equally sweet words, but the heavy tone doesn’t go undiscovered by your ears.

“ Loki, what’s wrong? “

“ nothing, why do you ask? “ the God denies, switching the questioning to you.

Turning to face him, your eyes scout all over his features to spot anything that would give you cause to continue on with your concern. It’s light, the ghost of sorrow concealed behind a curtain of confidence and ego, even the most professional of liars can’t hide the truth of that. The hurt cuts too deep for a flimsy pretense of everything being perfect for it to bury those feelings.

“ you’re an amazing liar, but I’m beginning to get the hang of you. Besides, sadness is something difficult to completely hide. “

A heavy breath is released, your fingers from their position on his shoulders feel as if there’s an invisible weight that has almost decreased. You wonder how long he has carried this with him.

“ tell me. “

Every fibre of Loki’s being is fighting to keep his feelings kept away out of sight, to imagine they never manifested themselves into reality, but locked into place by the profound compassion swirling in your eyes he wants to finally divulge everything in his mind that has been plaguing him. Who knew a mortal could have such an enchanting effect he thought humourfully to himself.

“ the deadline for a successor to my father’s throne is approaching. “

“ and you’re worried? “ your brows lower, confusion marking your features as you struggle to understand why that could be so bad?

“ I've veiled many things from you, a fault of mine I understand completely. “ he admits, a sorrowful smile gracing his lips.

“ it’s never too late to share them. It might help you feel better? “

Loki wonders just what it is he has done in his history to be blessed with such an understanding and caring soul as yours, nothing could ease the lasting effects of each and every of his transgressions over his many years of living. How exactly could such radiance and light find the dark Prince of Asgard so easily? Many who lived in his realm would argue that he’s not deserving, instead countering that his brother should be in such a position of happiness.

He simply gazes upon you before speaking, a slender finger raising to tuck a few stray hairs behind your ear.

“ the successor has already been chosen, they always have been. This is a mere formality. “ switching his sight from you to the environment around you both, turning to look upon the steadily darkening sky.

“ so why do it then? “

“ to ensure that the process is seen as fair, despite the favour repeatedly falling to my brother. “

Nodding in understanding, you finally realise why there is a darkness that swirls over his head now he speaks of the topic. Living in the shadow of the golden child is not easy, your heart hurts as you realise that there must be many people who do not see the same man who you see. They see audacity instead of a daringness, to mistake him for an egotistical know it all instead of someone who has a thirst for knowledge and tricks.

“ never did they wish to stop viewing me as a troublesome child, I suppose I never aided in changing that. “

Nothing falls from your lips, knowing no words could do justice for what you need him to know, to feel. Twisting yourself onto your knees, you lean forward and allow your arms to provide him comfort as they surround his neck. One hand raises to rest in the dense raven locks of hair you constantly marvel over, moving ever so softly to trace patterns.

“ I’m sorry. “ you mumble softly, wanting to say more, but you can’t help but resign yourself to being unable to say anything meaningful. Instead, figuring it would be better, first, for him to speak his emotions without looking for any advice.

“ you’ve nothing to apologise for. The pieces will fall as they should. “ he comforts, whining to himself over the absence of your warmth as you withdraw the embrace.

“ Loki, what do you mean by that? “

“ nothing for you to worry yourself over, my dove. “ he shakes his head, as a chuckle that is short accompanies it, contains little genuine amusement to settle you.

“ I’m being serious, what are you talking about? “ your demand is light in touch, though your gaze holds an unrelenting strength as he looks towards you once more.

“ again, nothing that requires your concern. Midgardians, you worry too much. “

“ over things that can get the people we love into trouble, of course. “

His heart pauses in beating as the words seep into his mind, realising exactly what you spoke. Briefly, does he wonder if he misheard you, thought deep down he knows what you spoke.

“ did you ⎯ ? “ an unrecognisable vulnerability crosses his expression as he begins to ask what you had said, to hear it again as if for the first time.

A reddening of you cheeks can be seen, you look down with a sheepish grin. This had not been the way you had imagined using the love word. Of course, over the years of your life many things had not gone to plan, so this was just another instance in a long, long line of events that just got away from you. While you know there is something mutual, you can’t bring yourself to look upon him just yet.

“ you heard me correctly. “

Elation swells within him, even the thought of perhaps you would prefer Thor had you met him first could not creep more than a few feet before being banished from sight and mind, it’s not something he wants to entertain. Especially for what he has in mind to plan for the future. Instead, he allows himself to be engulfed in your love, to experience the last piece of goodness that has been reserved for him, knowing it won’t last.

All you feel from your dropped gaze is your nose being nudged by his, then the weight of his lips on your own. Moving together as if they are fighting to mould into one, fitting together so well. Both of you are left breathless, momentarily caught in the feeling of the other that oxygen is the last thing on your mind.

“ do not trouble yourself over events that have not come to pass yet. Especially on an evening as fine as this. “

The corner of your lips tilt higher as your turn away from him to peer over the surroundings you had briefly forgotten. The burnt colours had long since faded into darkness, the stars being the only light as they can only be likened to being glitter in the night’s sky. A true beauty.

“ I love nights like these, where you can see all of the stars. “

“ you’d be besotted with Asgard’s constellations. “

You’d settled back into the position you were in previously, with arms encompassing you protectively with your back secured firmly to his chest. Loki explains the beauty of Asgard, and how even in the day the stars can still be seen against the shining vividness of the colours of their sky. Quarrelling against the gold hues from both the sun and the palace he knows only as his home.

“ that sounds wonderful. “ you whisper, feeling fatigue sneaking its way to the forefront of your mind.

“ it truly is a beauty to see. “ agreeing with you, resting his head upon yours. Wishing nothing more than to be able to stay there in that moment forever.

“ I wish I could see it. I’m very jealous right now. “

He can feel you becoming increasingly drowsy, flattered that you would even let your guard enough to even allow sleep to touch you. Having you on Asgard would certainly make him a happier person, to have someone who isn’t his mother understand him would be freeing. Though his father would die before he allowed that to happen, a mortal on Asgard.

“ Perhaps one day. “

Loki can’t be sure if you even heard that, but it’s something he wants to entertain. Besides, what is the use of being a master of mischief and tricks if he couldn’t make such a desire come true?

[stilemawillow]

MTIJ | Ch.1 Seeing Your Glorious Face Makes Me Want to Puke

|mtij masterlist|

pairing: levi ackerman x reader (eren jaeger x reader)

word count: 4.4k

summary: a girl with a variety of hidden complexes has to live with a french asshole for nine months. easy? on the surface. problematic? definitely. romantic? not too much, or at least they’d make it a point to say so everytime when asked. the end? please, their dynamic isn’t as simple as that.

I was in front of my house in the pouring rain, staring into the horizon as if it was a void that was about to suck me in. People with umbrellas passed me, gave me a funny glance and continued walking/running to their destinations. Obviously, I looked strange.

Curled up in a ball in front of the entrance to my house (thank God, the people who ran by me didn't fucking know it wasn't my own home I couldn't get into), cold, wet and shivering to my very bones wasn't the worst thing I'd been through, not even top ten if I were to truly judge it. I didn't know it, but something was about to wake me from my trance a bit later, until then, I spaced off, shuddering sporadically.

The story of how I ended up here, in such a condition was a bit boring and a bit different, but it was a story nonetheless and as to waste time, it should be told.

I opened my eyes - Eren was gone and the damn sunlight was annoying the hell out of me, so I could only guess it was already Monday morning. Why my alarm clock hadn't gone off was beyond me, but all I could think of currently was how fucked I was if I ended up late for Mr. Smith's first period.

The teacher himself was a blessing to look at in the morning but his character and distasteful lecturing helped nobody with their sleepiness. He was strict regarding the attention students paid in class and their attendance, so god help me if I turned up late.

I bolted from my bed and cursed the very universe before catching the wall at my side and leaning on it for dear life while trying to blink away the blank dots in front of my vision. After seeing everything in colour once again and not feeling like I would collapse to the floor, I ran for the bathroom across the corridor and had a lightning-fast shower. I slid across the blue-tiled floor, trying not to slip and die on a Monday, then went back to my room and slipped into the first clothes I found on my 'wardrobe chair' - a pair of jeans, a white top and a light jacket Eren had left on the desk.

I grabbed my backpack and ran down the stairs, stunned into silence upon witnessing my parents chatting and eating breakfast around the kitchen counter. Father's hand gripped today's newspaper and held a cup of steaming coffee in the other as mother explained something excitedly inbetween munching on her burnt toast. I stopped in my tracks at the foot of the stairs and my eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Wasn't I late? That was what I thought at least.

If I was truly late, my parents should've been off to work. The sight before my eyes made suspicion crawl its way into my mind. The way to dissolve my confusion was obvious - check the time, so I looked at the kitchen clock which just made me gape at the fact I still had thirty minutes before school started. I made my way towards the kitchen counter, took a seat next to my father, dropped my backpack at my feet and greeted my parents with a 'good morning' that spelt for them my lack of energy.

With a bright smile and a greeting of her own, my mother served me a plate of today's breakfast while my father gave me a nod before his attention was turned back to his newspaper. After finishing my breakfast, I popped a mint gum in my mouth (brushing my teeth right now would be a nuisance) and combed my fingers through my hair while walking to my car. The situation there was the following: I drove my father's Audi regularly, I had a driver's license and I broke the law daily by driving without supervision because I was still 17. We had the money to handle the fine and, hey, I was a teenager, I could use the fake recklessness.

On my way to school, I stopped at a coffee shop to take my daily portion of steaming caffeine and inhale the bittersweet aroma covered in whipped cream before resuming the drive. I met up with Annie in front of the school entrance and laughed at her attempts at making me less groggy. Then she asked me about my plans after school.

"Originally I was supposed to go out on a date with Eren, but I hate to say that now it's a bit different. I have to wait for some idiot in front of my house and then show him the place." With a shrug, I took a sip from my coffee and glanced at the screen of my phone. We had five minutes before class started. Annie and I took our seat at the back of the classroom, leaving our backpacks on the floor, taking out our notebooks and conversing all the while.

"Why so?" She asked and I sighed.

"Apparently he's going to be my father's intern. And he's gonna be around for like - a few months. If not even a year." I groaned in despair and Annie snorted, brushing a blond bang off the side of her face and putting it behind her ear. I could guess what kind of thoughts were spinning around in her head - the same were in mine.

"Then what about our meet-up?" She asked and I waved my hand dismissively with a huff.

"Don't worry, I'm coming. The date got ruined, but I'll surely make it for our meet-up." I said reassuringly, to which she gave me a nod. Her head turned to the front to look at our professor, as fabulously gorgeous as ever, as he made his entrance through the creaky door.

"Spacing off today?" Annie lifted an eyebrow and I chuckled.

"I'm actually planning to listen a bit." I stated and sipped on my coffee slowly. My best friend wasn't convinced by my words and, well, I didn't keep them that well either. What could a girl do when her boyfriend was texting her smiley faces without a drop of context? I was curious to know what the fuck it was Eren wanted. And also, looking for a distraction.

School was fun - yeah, no, whatever.

I was currently out of school, in my car, on my way home. The weather was cloudy and it looked like it was about to rain soon. With my bad feeling added to the mix, something was obviously about to happen. When I got out of my car, I could feel small raindrops fall on my skin. I scrunched up my nose before starting to dig through my backpack for my house keys. And yes, I was part of the strange cult people who had their car and house keys on different keychains. Sue me.

When I found no traces of my keys in my backpack, I went through all my pockets frantically, panic beginning to settle into my mind. Finding nothing, I gave a groan of defeat and took out my phone with the intention to dial my mother's number. The rain was gradually getting heavier and fighting off the defence of my clothes. I'd parked away from the house but I had to get there in order to wait for the intern at all cost because obviously, he was 'important'.

"Hello, (Y/N). What is it?" She asked from the other line as I held back the urge to groan in her ear.

"Mother, do you happen to have seen my house keys? I'm sure I put them in my backpack this morning."

"Oh, well... you see, sweetie, I took them." She sounded a bit nervous.

"What? How am I supposed to go inside now? And what do you need them for anyway?" She winced at my exclamations before chuckling as to ease the tension - let me tell you, it wasn't really funny for me. The rain was getting worse, so I approached a nearby tree and stood under it, except the many times uncle Jared had told me about incidents caused by trees made me rethink my hiding place. My car wasn't an option because I'd already walked a lot and there was no use in going back to it just so I could wet the seat as well.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). I took the keys because I had to make a copy for the intern. I'm with your father at the store right now, wait for us. We'll unlock for you." She explained and I scowled.

"Of course I'll wait, but that's not the problem. Why does the intern even need a---"

"Thanks. We'll be there in less than half an hour, don't worry. Bye." She hung up on me just like that and I stared at my phone with bewilderment after parting it from my ear. I couldn't believe my mother actually hung up on me like that. And I didn't even finish my question.

Why the fuck would that intern need a copy of our house keys for god's sake?

Although the question bugged me, I decided to ignore it and made my way towards the entrance of our house. I was already soaking wet, I could foresee the cold I was going to get and since my mother and father were my only way out of this situation I had no choice but to sit down, make myself as comfortable as possible and wait.

And so here I was now, reminiscing about the days I was a child because my parents cared more about me back then. The rain was getting a bit lighter because around twenty minutes had passed, but it didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon. I hugged my knees close to my chest and buried my face in them in hopes of making time move quicker. I'd sighed more times than I could count and sneezing didn't help my situation because if I actually got sick then who in the fucking hell would go to school in my stead?

"Hey, brat." I heard the words over the sound of the rain. I looked up and goodness did the view make me drool. Well, not literally because I had decency and not emotionally because I had a boyfriend who I was very much in love with, but, you know, metaphorically, I was salivating. Against the background of the significantly clearer sky and weak rain, I witnessed a man in his early twenties who could probably pass more as a teenager. His ebony locks were in an undercut and his grey eyes stared right into my very soul. His figure was leaning forward slightly and a black umbrella hovered over his head, which, with the light bouncing off its surface, created a halo effect above him. Under other circumstances that would've led me to the conclusion that this man was an angel sent from heaven, but I had my reasons to be certain in his mortal identity.

The sickly pale skin was a dead giveaway. And with how angular his features were - prominent cheekbones, sharp jawline - he had the potential to look like a very handsome corpse, if he dropped half his weight and removed the redness at the tips of his ears and nose. Said nose was long and thin, his lips were pursed and his black brows were pulled together above his narrow eyes. They struck me the best - I hadn't seen grey eyes until then. His attire was simple - converse boots, skinny jeans, a white T-shirt under a black button-up and a forest green sweater. His left hand was handling a suitcase bigger than myself and a kitbag half my size was hanging from the elbow of his right hand - the one holding his umbrella. He was extremely attractive. But...

Did this Mr. Pretty Face just call me a brat? I snapped out of my check-out daze and glared at him.

"Excuse me, who the fuck do you think you're talking to?"

"Apparently a dumbass who's incapable of holding her tongue behind her teeth. Now tell me, do you know of the Raven household and where to find it? I was told it was in this neighbourhood." After he finished talking I looked at him as if he'd just asked what the colour of my underwear was. I echoed the name of the household like a broken record, shock slowly perching itself atop my shoulders as they tensed in realisation. "Yes, Raven. Do you know them and their location or not?" He gave me a ticked-off glare and I just sighed in return. I reached out a hand in his direction, about to introduce myself and greet my new not-friend. The raven stared at my hand with furrowed eyebrows and clear disgust before I spoke.

"By some coincidence, my name is (Y/N) Raven and I happen to be the daughter of the man you're going to spend the upcoming year with." I stated calmly and he looked at me with bewilderment and wide eyes. My ears could detect both my heartbeat and the weak rain in the background while I tried to keep my face as impassive as possible which turned out to be quite hard in the current situation I was placed in. This hot piece of cake did not only ruin my date, insult me and was currently wasting my time, but he was actually amazingly attractive. That was so unacceptable I was ready to sue whoever created his face and sent it my way for ruining my life. He shook my hand with reluctance and quickly let go, leaving me to stare at his visage and think of how much I wanted to puke the junk food I'd eaten earlier at school. This couldn't have been true, but he was here in all of his glory, staring at me as I stared right back at him.

"Ah, (Y/N). We're here." I heard my mother's voice call from down the street and when I turned to look I saw her and father walking towards us, bags in their hands. I got up and wiped myself of anything that could've clung to me, except I couldn't physically shake the nauseating feeling at finally meeting my father's intern.

"Hi, mother, father. Nice to see you again. Who would've thought you'd actually lock me out of my own home one day?" I smiled, clearly covering up all the annoyance that had built up inside me as my mother pouted playfully and slapped my shoulder.

"(Y/N), don't talk like this. We came, right? And you're soaked, you should've found yourself a hiding place faster." She scolded - it didn't matter if I was right or wrong, I would be getting a lecture. Maria Raven just did things that way, my father was no exception to her manner of handling her mistakes. I agreed, apologised and ushered them towards the door right after, watching them unlock and leading me, the future intern and the stupidly creaky rolling of his cheap suitcase’s wheels inside. I sighed while letting my soaked backpack hit the floor and the raven put down his umbrella, eyes following my parents as they left their purchases in the kitchen.

"Well, not nice to meet you, whoever you are. Just don't interrupt me while I'm showering, alright?" I looked at him and the only response I got was a snort and a glare. With a roll of my eyes, I started walking up the stairs to the bathroom when my father's voice stopped me.

"(Y/N) Rolland Raven, where do you think you're going?" He asked warningly and I froze, cursing mentally. When I turned around I witnessed my father standing at the bottom of the stairs with a frown, crossed arms and a hip cocked slightly to the side.

"I was going to take a shower because I'm soaked and I might just end up with a cold?" I left the question mark at the end of the sentence as my father raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think so, young lady. You're going to help Levi around the house and introduce him to his new home."

Home? Levi? Home??? Excuse me?? If my expression could speak it would probably say 'what in the holy grail of fuck did I miss here???'.

"What?" I asked blankly. My eyebrows were knitted together in confusion and my father started to tap his fingers over his biceps slowly, making me get a little nervous because that gesture always meant his patience was thinning out. "His new home? What is that supposed to mean?" My mother was spying on the situation from the kitchen while silently trying to ignore the tension and giving me pleading looks. The goddamn intern didn't seem excited regarding my father's announcement, but he did seem somehow satisfied that I was getting scolded. Or so I thought because with that frown of his it was hard to decipher what exactly he was thinking. Not that I wanted to or anything, just saying. In contrast to the intern's frown, however, my father's scowl was way more expressive. And right now it screamed annoyance.

"As I've said before, we have a big house and more than enough resources. This man is supposed to work with me in the upcoming year, so he has to be close by. If you still cannot seem to put two and two together, (Y/N), it'll be for the best if Levi comes to live with us, so he's taking your cousin's room upstairs. I suppose it's obvious that you'll be nice, not to mention polite, to him and will introduce him to his new surroundings which you'll share with him for the rest of the year." He lectured sternly as I just stared at him. My mouth was agape and my eyes were as wide as dinner plates. This was unheard of! My father hadn't even discussed it with me before going and doing everything on his own!

"Father, I never agreed to this! It's not like he's incapable of living on his own, he travelled here all alone, obviously, he should be fine with renting an apartment somewhere! Also, what is he supposed to do while you and mother are at work and I'm at school?! He could rob us and rush off back to his home country for all we know! To top it off, I'm not giving up just a date if he's going to live here!" It was supposed to be a whine, but it ended up as an angry accusation, which was by the way legitimate as fuck in my own opinion. Just because the guy was a senior in university and had good enough grades to come here didn't mean he could be trusted wholeheartedly! He could be a thief or a fraud for all we knew! Maybe he abducted the real person who was supposed to come here and came just to take advantage of us! It couldn't be proven right, but it couldn't be objected as well which made it a legitimate possibility!

"Enough, (Y/N)." My father held up his hand with a harsh look of reproach on his face. I closed my mouth and started chewing on the inner side of my cheek in distaste and anger. "You're going too far as to accuse Levi just because we happen to have a way of making things more efficient which doesn't suit your tastes or doesn't go your way. Everything is already decided and since it doesn't involve you directly, you don't have a word in it. Welcome Levi appropriately after apologising for the insult and don't you dare run off with Jaeger once your mother and I are out of the doorstep."

"Oh, how I wish I could..." I whispered with a roll of my eyes as my father huffed.

"I heard that, by the way. I don't know why I haven't banned the boy from the house. Am I clear about this, (Y/N)?" He asked sternly, making me gulp down all pride I had and nod as my shoulders slumped down in defeat. The intern stood to the side with crossed arms while waiting patiently, somewhat amused by the current situation. I stated it was crystal clear, to which my father snorted in approval. "Good. Now come, Maria, we must go." He urged my mother to the door and they exited, leaving me and the raven-haired male alone. I groaned before facing him.

"Come, I'll show you where to leave your things." I gestured for him to follow me and he did, surprisingly enough without saying a word. The trip past my bedroom door on the second floor and in front of his seemed to last longer than I wanted to. We came to a stop and I opened the door for him. "It's dusty because our relatives' last visit was a few months ago around Christmas and it hasn't been cleaned since then. Leave your luggage somewhere and follow me around the house. I'll clean it up after we're ready with the trip.” He moved towards the bed with nonchalant steps while looking around the room. His suitcase was lifted and placed on top of the mattress along with the kitbag that now lay by its side. A small drop, drop, drop gained our attention and I watched him turn around and stare at the water dripping from my clothes and hair onto the floor. I gave him a strained polite smile prior to leading him away and trying not to slip.

"There won't be a second tour of the house and I won't answer when you come to my room asking for the bathroom." I warned and he rolled his eyes but kept silent nonetheless. I showed him the things on the second floor - our bedrooms which were next to each other with their respective small balconies, the guest room down the hallway right across from my parents' bedroom, the bathroom across my room and the balcony in the opposite direction of the guest room. We went downstairs and I walked him through the kitchen across the staircase and the small closet for cleaning supplies under the staircase itself, the living room connected to the kitchen, my mother's art room, my father's office and the small toilet that resided right between them. At the end of our tour, I couldn't wait to shower and the raven’t entirely indifferent expression didn’t help my mood.

"I showed you everything, so I'll go and showe---" My sentence was cut off by a powerful sneeze that almost made me step back a bit. I hated this world more than usual in that moment. After wiping my nose with my sleeve, I continued as if nothing happened. "You go get some cleaning supplies from the closet downstairs and leave them in your room. After I'm done with the shower, I'll clean it. In the meantime, you're free to explore on your own, including everywhere and excluding my bedroom."

"You're not dumb." He blurted it out monotonously just I’d turned around and was about to climb the stairs. The comment didn’t necessarily piss me off - most people would think me dumber than a squirrel the first time they met me.

"Of course, I'm not." I huffed with a roll of my eyes and he clicked his tongue at my haughtiness prior to dropping a ‘whatever’ and adding that he wouldn’t be taking care of me when I got a cold. "I already have it, but you won’t be taking care of me, don’t worry." Another sneeze came from me as I went up the stairs and left the intern on his own. On my way to the bathroom, however, I heard my phone ring in my pocket. I picked up with a small 'hello' and leaned against the bathroom's door, oblivious to the newcomer looking through the cleaning supplies in the closet and being able to hear me.

"(Y/N), I'm afraid I have bad news." Mikasa's voice rang from the speaker and made me instantly worried. She only called when it was important and the fact she decidedly announced the presence of bad news before even greeting me called for a bit of justified panic.

"What is it?" I asked with urgency, hoping for the best. Maybe we had a surprise test tomorrow or a deadline for a project we'd forgotten was nearing? Maybe I'd forgotten something else? Then she told me Eren was out with a cold and wouldn’t be going to school tomorrow, to which I groaned. "How did he even get sick?" I questioned with puzzlement before sneezing three times in a row and cutting off Mikasa's answer. She commented on my condition doubtfully and I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Yeah, I had to stand in the rain for half an hour. My mother stole my keys because she had to make a copy for the intern and I was locked outside, so I can blame him if it comes to that." I snorted and wiped my nose, I could already feel it getting clogged.

"Yeah, Annie mentioned him. You'll tell me about it tomorrow because you'll have to take the quiz. You're coming, right?"

"Of course. I have to. Mr. No-PDA-In-School-Miss-Raven is going to lower my grade if I were to suddenly flee no matter the reason. I was supposed to meet up with Annie this afternoon, but I don't think I'll even reach her house without crashing into a tree with these sneezing fits. I'll have to call her." I stated with a small sigh as Mikasa huffed.

"I'll call her instead, you make sure your condition doesn't get worse. Take care, (Y/N)." After thanking her about a hundred times and promising that I was going to be fine, I hung up and headed for the bathroom while mumbling under my breath.

"Great, my boyfriend's out with a cold and I'm currently in the process of catching it. This is the best way to spend the day prior to a quiz that's a quarter of your goddamn grade. Fucking perfect." I waved my hands around as sarcasm dripped from my voice. "I'm gonna vomit from all the ecstasy."

I'm totally going to vomit from all the ecstasy... one day. I thought before slamming the bathroom door behind my back.

tag list: @unloved-cadillac​

[katie-dub]

The Princess of White Chapel (7/12)

Dr Killian Jones is having a terrible day. He’s got a mission, he’s got a time machine, he’s got … drunk. What could possibly go wrong?

AO3 | Tumblr

Rated M for alcohol use, violence, minor character death, frank discussions of depression and grief.

This particular chapter is a tough one for Killian - be prepared for some emotional breakdowns and distressing flashbacks.

Sorry I’m posting later than usual guys, it’s been a week. Still, I’m excited to share this chapter - thank you to all of you who are reading, reblogging and all those other lovely things, they mean a lot.

The magnificent @princesse-swan made my header - and here’s her latest gorgeous picset.

The utterly perfect @distant-rose and @ultraluckycatnd made this work better with their beta skills.

Killian was dragged from sleep by his alarm. He groaned, wishing that he could just close his eyes and forget about the world.

It had been a long time since he'd joined in the drinking on a night out with his friends, and he was certainly feeling the after effects. He may not have overindulged, but he wasn't as young as he once was - and the alcohol was only part of the issue.

The emotional hangover however was crippling.

He felt like last night he'd taken a huge leap forward on the road to recovering from the devastating loss of his first love. Only to fall and stumble backwards, losing himself in his guilt and grief.

He hadn't realised what a burden on his soul his grief had been, unable to recognise the weight of it until he met Emma. After one night of feeling like he didn't have to shoulder his pain alone anymore he felt lighter, but knowing that reprieve was only temporary also made him feel centuries older than his true age.

And there was the kiss.

Bloody hell, that kiss.

It had been perfect, passionate, and utterly impossible.

First kisses didn't feel that good, it was nonsensical. But they kissed like they had been doing it for a lifetime - for several lifetimes in fact. And he was going to have to send her home to another realm where he could not follow. Talk about unfair.

And there was the guilt that followed. He had devoted himself to Milah long ago and when he loved, it was with his whole heart - his entire being. How could he find room in his heart for someone new?

But he didn't even have to try. It hadn't been a conscious choice to fall for Emma, but somehow he was falling for her. He knew that Milah still owned a piece of his soul, had left an indelible impression on his heart, but it had somehow swelled to make room for another. He shouldn't feel bad for that, but he couldn't help himself.

He had far too many feelings for 8:15am.

Tea. He desperately needed tea, after a cup or five he might begin to start thinking more clearly. He could only hope that would happen.

It was probably for the best that he had to report to his new lab this morning and pick up the pieces of his tattered research. Throwing himself head first into a new challenge and letting it consume him utterly was his best coping mechanism, even if he now could see it for the unhealthy avoidance tactic that it was.

It wasn't a solution, merely a short term reprieve.

He finally sat up with an effort, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and pushing back the hair that was obscuring his vision. Blinking blearily, he glanced over to the chair that should have contained his clothes for the day. Except with all the drama of the previous night, he'd forgotten to get his clothes out of the room before Emma had gone to bed.

He was going to have to sneak into his own bedroom to get something to wear, without disturbing Emma from sleep and risking looking like a creep. Or what if she wasn't asleep, but just hiding from him?

Bloody hell.

His life was ridiculous.

He filled the kettle right to the top and flicked it on to boil. He busied himself with getting the pot and adding the tea bags, giving himself a few moments to find his courage. When he went so far as to wait until the kettle had actually boiled, he tried to tell himself it was just so he could get his tea brewing, but deep down he knew he was just being pathetic.

Instead of stalling any longer, he walked to the bedroom. He softly knocked on his door - just in case Emma happened to be awake - but on hearing no reply, he carefully opened the door and crept inside. He quickly found the clothes he wanted, hardly daring to breathe lest he disturb her and hurried to get back outside. As he turned to close the door behind him, he caught sight of her.

She was stunning.

She looked at peace in her sleep in a way he'd never seen while she was awake. A faint blush graced her cheeks, and her hair was a mess of waves around and over her face. She wasn't some Renaissance painting of frozen perfection. She was messier, but she was a true sleeping beauty all the same.

He only caught a glimpse of her before he turned away, feeling like he hadn't earned this intimacy. He didn't deserve her unguarded moments and probably never would. But seeing her like that? Oh how it made him wish he were a better man, someone who was worthy of a princess.

As he drank his tea and stumbled his way through his morning routine, he tried to put her out of mind. But his fantasies of her hair tickling his own nose as he woke up, her soft sigh against his cheek, would not leave him.

She still hadn't emerged by the time he had finished inhaling his slightly burnt toast and third cup of coffee. He breathed a sigh of relief as he scribbled a note - “gone to the lab, back by 7” - and pulled his door shut behind him.

He hadn’t fully processed everything that had happened last night - and he needed to concentrate on his work. Based on the way she had bolted from him after their kiss, he was fairly certain she wasn’t sure how to feel about it either. He suspected that she would prefer to act as if nothing had happened instead of having a heartfelt conversation, but doing either would be emotionally taxing and was more than he could handle right now.

After the fresh air that had breezed through the city the night before, the heat had returned with a vengeance. It was not yet 9am and already the atmosphere felt heavy. By the end of the day, Killian was sure the scent of melting tarmac would fill the air. A storm must be brewing.

As he walked through the streets, torn between rushing to get out of the suffocating air and sauntering at a leisurely pace in deference to his hungover state, he couldn’t help but wonder at how quiet the area was. There were still people around, but the place should be packed, the pavements actually overflowing with commuters at times. He never thought he’d miss having to fight his way down a street, but right now, everything felt somehow lifeless in comparison to its usual noisy, bustling state.

He reached the base of the Gherkin. He’d never had cause to go in before - uninterested in the shops and trendy bars it contained. It was an impressive sight, bearing down on him with its unusual triangular archways with their sharp points that reminded him of a crocodile’s teeth. How fitting for Gold, he thought, suppressing a shudder.

He took a deep breath that brought him no refreshment as it filled his lungs with the humid air, passed through the archway, and entered the building.

The sudden cool was a blessed relief. Before him were two sleek black desks with smiling receptionists behind them and turnstiles in between. There were textured white walls behind them. All was sparkling clean and futuristic. He looked around, unclear of what he was meant to do next.

“Dr Jones!” a man in a white coat ran towards him. He panted slightly as he arrived at Killian’s side, despite only having crossed a few yards. Killian furrowed his brow as he looked the man up and down - he looked out of place here, his thick, fuzzy beard and short, stout physique contrasting unflatteringly against the sleek, glistening surroundings. More concerning to Killian, though, was the way his eyes darted around the lobby as though he were on edge.

“Dr Smee,” he said, extending a hand for Killian to shake. “Astrophysicist and lecturer in quantum mechanics at Imperial College and your partner for as long as you need me.”

Killian took the man’s hand. It was clammy with sweat despite the pleasant temperature inside. He’s here under duress, he thought cooly. Good, he’s not entirely Gold’s man. I can work with that.

His assessment was perhaps callous, but he was going to have to trust his team, and he needed all the leverage he could get.

Smee ushered him into the lift. Even though it quickly filled up with other people, it took just minutes for them to reach the 32nd floor.

“Fastest lift in Europe,” Smee said with a smile when Killian's eyebrows lifted in surprise at the speed of their ascent.

“Impressive,” he begrudgingly admitted.

Smee led the way to glass double doors. “Welcome to your new lab, Dr Jones!” he said grandly as he used his swipe card to throw open the door.

“Bloody hell…” Killian breathed. So much for not being impressed.

Immediately in front of him were floor to ceiling windows. First a neat row of standard large rectangles, then a gap that housed impressive white triangular supports before you got to the trademark diamond windows that gave The Gherkin its distinctive shape.

And the view through the glass? Nothing short of breathtaking. A stunning panoramic vista showing what felt like all of London sprawling out from it, with its huge office blocks, grand architectural landmarks and mammoth cranes all reduced to toys by the great height.

“We have the whole 32nd floor, Dr Jones,” said Smee, noting his wide-eyed gaze, “that means 360 degree views of London, you can see Tower Bridge, St Paul’s, the Shard, the Eye, everything from here.”

He felt like he could spend forever circling the windows, gazing at the city below. He wondered briefly what Lily had looked like on Tower Bridge from up here.

“Now if you look over here -” Smee was pointing to his left - “we’ve got multiple computer banks.” They began to walk around the circular space. Large curved screens were mounted on the clean white walls, he could see everything from blueprints and coding to the latest news and twitter feeds. In front of the walls there were sleek slate grey desks with state of the art computers placed on them, alongside phones and laptops. Already there were teams of people tapping away on keys.

“How long until we have everything back from my old computers? Killian asked.

“It’s already done.”

“You restored the data already?” Killian arched his brow, framing his respect as scepticism. He didn't want them to see how impressed he truly was. Better to let them think he was doubting their ability than to show Gold that he'd won this round.

“Gold expects excellence in all things,” was the honest reply. “Of course, with Gold there were no second chances. You get the job done or call a priest to hear your final confession and read you your last rites.”

Killian nodded to show he understood, but gave no encouragement and expressed no sympathy. That was simply the price you paid for working with a crocodile. Sooner or later, he'd eat you alive.

They continued past more computers until the space opened out further. There was one last desk set apart from the wall, all the the computers on it faced towards a grand space where construction was in progress on a new machine. A team of technicians in white coats were assembling the parts efficiently, referring to plans on impressively large laptops on portable workstations.

“Well, I have to say, this is all much better than I hoped,” Killian admitted begrudgingly. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

“I’m not sure I quite follow -” Smee began.

“For a start, anyone who leaves more than five personal items in the lab is banned, make sure that you enforce that rule.”

“I don’t see the need...”

“Am I in charge here?”

“Yes, Dr Jones, it is your research project after all.”

“I’ve seen the walk-in petri dishes that some scientists work in, anyone who treats my lab like they would their childhood bedroom has no place on my team.”

“Oh I see. It must be that I’m used to a slightly higher calibre of scientists. Ones who aren’t living some kind of clichéd man-child scientist life like bit parts in The Big Bang Theory. Imperial is ninth in the world for physical sciences after all - fourth in Europe - but I don’t think King’s College gets a look in?”

Killian scowled at Smee. He shouldn’t let this jab at his university’s reputation bother him, it was nothing more than typical local rivalry at play, but it was a bitter reminder of everything that Gold had cost him in life. It hadn’t been enough to take love and limb from him, he’d come close to destroying his career, leaving him scrabbling for funding and struggling to get published. But King’s was a decent university, he was proud to have fought back and won his role there despite the constant setbacks. But if he were to say that? To reveal that their generous benefactor was in fact a constant thorn in his side, that would sound like nothing more than sour grapes.

“I find it’s not the size of your ranking, but what you do with it that matters.” Killian smirked at Smee.

“And what have you done with it Dr Jones? I tried looking you up, but found that your published works were rather thin on the ground. It’s hard to believe that you still have funding with such a poor record.”

This was a definite power play, and one that Killian didn’t appreciate at all. Not only had he inadvertently hit a sore spot, but also Killian didn’t like that he had been left in the dark on who he was to work with, while his partners were able to do their homework. While his initial impression that Smee was not entirely comfortable working for Gold may have been accurate, he was nevertheless a clever man and not to be trifled with

But Killian Jones had trained to deal with men that were far more fearsome than the portly Dr Smee. He advanced into the man’s personal space, looking down on the man with obvious disdain.

“Let me make one thing clear to you, Smee, was it?”

“Dr Sm-”

“Right. Smee, you're only here because I allow it. You may be useful to me and I don't want to deal with the inevitable headache I'd have if I kicked you out of my lab and you ran off to tell Gold on me like a good little lackey. But don't mistake this for kindness or weakness and don't take me for a fool. If I catch even the slightest sign that you are standing in my way, I will not hesitate to end you. Not your research, not your career. You, Smee. Have I made myself clear?”

Smee swallowed hard. “Cr - cr - crystal.”

“Very well then Smee, welcome to my team.” He clapped Smee on the back, just a touch too hard to be considered truly friendly and dropped his voice. “No offense, but I can’t have a rat in my lab. It’s most unsanitary, you understand.”

Smee nodded, looking terrified. Once upon a time, Killian might have felt sorry for the man, but he'd learned the hard way to never underestimate Gold and his cronies. Smee was Gold’s man, he couldn't be trusted.

***

Despite his suspicions and total dislike of relying on Gold’s support, Killian found that he had a productive day. The reason for his machine behaving in this way eluded them all, meaning they were still far off figuring out a way to reverse the effect. But at least progress was being made on rebuilding the machine.

He stepped out onto the street at the end of the day and instantly was reminded why he sometimes hated London in the summer. There was the smell of molten tarmac on the breeze and the air felt sticky with sweat. He rolled up his sleeves, exposing the tattoo that he usually kept hidden, and unfastened a few additional buttons on his shirt, exposing more of his chest than he usually would on a work day. But considering he could see at least one lobster red tourist who’d stripped out of their shirt entirely, he felt smart in comparison.

He toyed briefly with the idea of inviting Emma for a walk after dinner down by the river where the air would be cooler. He could take her to the Southbank side, get a drink in the nook by the Golden Hind, go people watching on the grass by the Tate Modern.

She’d probably appreciate escaping the flat for a few minutes at least. I should really get her a key, he thought, and possibly a phone. She shouldn’t have to stay cooped up indoors all day. He tried not to think too much about how much he cared for her comfort - or how he was acting as though her presence might be long term - or how much he hoped it was.

A cat darted in front of him, startling him from his thoughts. He might have paid it no further attention if the creature hadn’t unfurled a pair of wings lazily and took flight. He blinked in alarm. These strange occurrences were happening ever more frequently, and once again, the streets were far quieter than he’d ever known them to be before. Something was deeply wrong in town and he was daydreaming about playing house with a princess.

Still though, providing Emma with some creature comforts was something he could do immediately and with little effort on his part. Handling arsey dragons, vanishing fairies, and dwindling crowds was firmly in the territory of mistakes that he had made and had no idea how to fix.

That fact made him deeply uncomfortable.

He was always one to admit when he was wrong, meaning that Gold’s unwillingness to ever accept responsibility for Milah’s death and do his time disturbed him greatly. When he was wrong, he would do everything in his power to make amends. But this was beyond him. The only person he could make amends to on any level was Emma.

That made his mind up for him. He knew a little place not too far out of his way where he could get a set of keys and a cheap phone. (And, if he so desired, all manner of cheap tourist crap, his dry cleaning done and, he suspected, an eighth of pot. Not that he’d know for certain, having taken no interest in recreational drugs since his mission was set. Still, it was hard to ignore the distinctive smell that wafted out of the doorway when he passed and he highly doubted that the teenagers with glazed eyes flocked there for their range of designer perfumes of dubious origin.)

He marched towards the shop, feeling as though he were wading through treacle, determined to get what Emma needed. He wondered fleetingly if he could get away with undoing a few more buttons, but decided against it as that was just a little too close to wandering the streets topless and while he didn’t mind people seeing him in that state, his British reserve kept him clothed.

Bloody hell, Emma will need more clothes too. Ruby only brought her enough to last until the weekend. We can hardly have her walking around the city dressed in only my shirt.

The image of Emma’s long legs filled his mind - and his thoughts quickly turned to the previous night of feeling her straddling him. He wondered about what might have happened if he’d kissed her again. Would she have let him? How different would his morning have been if he’d woken up in bed with her after a night of exploring each other? Would he have slipped out of bed leaving her naked and sighing for him in her sleep?

And despite himself, those thoughts stayed with him throughout his entire walk to the shop. It was only the scent of weed wafting on the breeze as he drew closer that shook him out of his uncomfortably domestic daydreams.

He wondered what it said about him that he’d been fantasising about having a life with her, and not of just having her. (Although he did think about that too.) He was on the verge of playing at living with a girl he knew he’d have to give up all too soon, after his previously doomed relationship with a married woman.

He sure knew how to pick them.

A short while later he let himself back into his flat, unsure of how exactly to bring up the set of keys that were burning a hole in his pocket and the phone that was sitting in his leather satchel.

“Swan?” he called out as he walked towards the living room, wanting to give her warning that he was home. “I’ve got s -” He stopped dead at the sight before him.

Emma was lounging on the couch with her knees up to create an easel for the drawing pad that rested against them. She was sketching and from what little he could see over her shoulder it was a simple, beautiful swan.

The image of another beautiful woman, who he’d found in that exact pose so many times before, filled his mind. His eyes misted over as he realised how faded those memories were. He knew that he’d find Milah like this and he’d creep over to see what she was drawing. She would tilt her head back to invite a kiss, but the picture was insubstantial as smoke.

Emma jumped and accidentally drew a line straight across the swan’s throat. He hadn’t even realised that he had drawn closer to her until he was a little too close for comfort.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, stepping back to a safe distance and cursing his own stupidity. This was Princess Emma Swan, golden haired beauty and badass from another realm. Not his lost love returned to life.

She scrambled to shove the art supplies on the table, looking guilty. “Oh, um, I - I hope you don’t mind - I - I wanted something to do other than watch the magic mirror -” she shook her head, eyes squeezed shut as though trying to shake the wrong wording out of her brain. “I mean, TV. These were in a drawer...”

Killian’s eyes widened as he watched her babble. Did he look angry? Had he said something harsh that he hadn’t meant to? He had thought that princesses were meant to be spoiled, but this one seemed determined to apologise for her very existence in a way he found frankly alarming.

“Swan -” he touched her arm gently, but she jumped nevertheless “- it’s okay, love. It’s about time someone used those again.”

“You don’t draw anymore?”

“They were Milah’s.”

She looked down to the tattoo on his forearm - a heart with a dagger through it with a ribbon wrapped around it bearing the name “Milah” - then to the ring on the finger of his prosthetic. She looked even more guilty at these words. “Your wife?”

“Emma, Milah and I were never married.”

“But…” Emma frowned in confusion, her eyes darting down to his ring once more. He understood her hesitance at once.

“This -” he held up his prosthetic adorned with his ring “- is my engagement ring from Milah. She was murdered the night she asked me to marry her.”

“Oh, oh fuck, I'm so sorry, I hope I didn't upset you, calling her your wife when you didn't - you couldn't -” Emma faltered and shook herself. “That's awful. I'm sorry that you didn't get to marry her. I didn't mean to make it worse. In my realm, it is customary for the man to do the asking and the woman to wear the ring.”

Killian laughed. “It is here too, but my Milah was never one for doing things the traditional way.”

***

After champagne toasts and congratulations from many strangers and waiters, and the manager absolutely insisting that their drinks were on the house, they finally floated home on a cloud of joy.

They were so wrapped up in each other that neither noticed the figures following them home. If they had, perhaps they wouldn’t have taken the shortcut through the dimly lit park that Killian had originally intended to propose in precisely because it was out of sight of inquiring eyes.

(But then again, they were hoping that perhaps they could start their private celebrations early and they didn’t want an audience. They were just so high on each other and they felt so good.)

They were pressed up against a tree when they realised their mistake.

“Well, well, well, dearie. What do we have here?”

At the sound of Gold’s voice, Killian’s whole body stiffened. He pulled his lips away from Milah’s, expecting to see fear in her eyes. He was incredibly proud to see nothing but defiance and contempt. She had come such a long way from the frightened woman in desperate need of an escape whom he first met. If it weren’t entirely the wrong time for it, he might had even chuffed a little with pride at how he had helped her to escape this man - this crocodile - so that she could become the fierce, strong, and independent woman she truly was.

He turned slowly to face Gold, moving slightly to the side so that Milah could look at her ex, but placed firmly between them, his body still close to hers.

“Go away. Nobody wants you here,” Milah spat out.

“Come now dearie. What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t congratulate you on your engagement?” His manic grin dropped and a dark scowl crossed over it. “Oh wait, a normal one. Did you really think I’d let you -” Gold’s words stopped as his eyes fell on the ring sitting on Killian’s finger. He sneered at the sight and gestured to it dramatically. “What is that?” He looked back up at Killian’s face in disgust. “Are you wearing an engagement ring too, princess? Did your true love get down on one knee? Was it everything you dreamed of as a little girl?”

Gold stepped back and gestured to one of his henchman while pointing at Killian’s ring. “I can’t have people thinking my wife has already married someone else. Get rid of that.”

With that one dismissive command, Gold condemned Killian to a life as an amputee.

At the sight of the two huge lunks advancing on him, Killian felt nothing but terror for Milah. He turned to her ever so slightly and spoke in a low voice, “Milah, you have to run!” He pleaded with his eyes for her to listen to him, to just save herself.

“No. I’m not leaving without you!” He should have known his amazing, darling love wouldn’t abandon him to his fate.

He spun back around to face his would-be attackers, stepping fully between them and Milah.

“Do whatever you want to me. Just let her go.” He summoned up all the bravado he could muster, hoping he sounded at least vaguely intimidating. One of the henchmen sneered and shrugged almost lazily, pulled out a handgun, and shot Killian through the wrist.

He dropped to one knee, crying out at the intense pain.

He couldn’t feel his hand anymore.

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to look at his surely useless limb. Instinctively, he grabbed his wrist tight to stem the bleeding. He clenched his jaw to try to hold back his screams.

He felt Milah drop down beside him. A fresh wave of sheer panic flooded through him.

“Milah, no! Please go, I can’t lose you.”

He heard a blood-curdling cackle from somewhere nearby that made him shudder.

“Oh, I’m not going to let her go, dearie. You two have made a mockery of me for far too long. I need to make it clear to the world what happens to people who defy me.”

Killian’s eyes flew open at Gold’s words. He found himself looking straight into his Milah’s eyes. She looked at him tenderly, her eyes shining with love. She smiled. “I love you.”

No sooner were the words out of her mouth then he heard the bang of a gun. He jumped at the sound. His ears started to ring. Milah slumped against him, lifeless.

He looked up into Gold’s face, which broke out into a crocodile smile. “Congratulations, dearie!” the beast said with a flourish before disappearing into the night.

***

Emma looked shell shocked in the wake of his revelation. He could hardly blame her. Even though he was there, had seen it happen, he still often felt like it was all just a nightmare, one that he might wake from at any time.

“This man… Gold, the one who did - well, ordered, all this, he's rotting in jail now, right?”

Killian laughed bitterly. “You'd think so, wouldn't you? No. He's free. Living, breathing, and fucking up my life.”

Emma looked repulsed, her nose scrunching in distress and furrowing her brow. “Fucking up your life? He took your love and your hand, isn’t that enough?”

He shook his head and stared down at his prosthetic, muttering under his breath, “you underestimate how black his vile heart is.”

“What else could he possibly do?” she whispered, sounding as if she couldn’t bear to hear it.

“Anything he could to make my life miserable.” His tone was light hearted, as if his decade of mistreatment at Gold’s hands was nothing more than some grand farce. He looked back up at her with a poor attempt at a grin stretching his lips. Emma’s eyes met his and they were so full of concern and understanding that he couldn’t even make that half hearted attempt at pretending this was all ok. He sighed, and let his anguish of the past few days spill out of him. “I was going to save her.”

“What?”

“When we met, I told you that I had built a time machine…” He eyed her meaningfully and saw the moment that she understood, her eyes widening in alarm for the briefest moment before she caught herself and schooled her expression into something far more neutral.

“You - you were going to go back in time and stop her from dying?”

“I was going to kill the beast.” His voice was matter of fact, but a manic, bloodthirsty glee filled him at the thought and he knew that it must show on his face. “You know, he didn’t even have the guts to kill her himself? He always was a disgusting little coward, hiding behind his guards and his money and his powerful allies. I trained hard to take out those guards and then it would have just been me and him and with that dodgy leg of his, he never stood a chance.” His dreamy voice sounded strange even to him, he felt detached from everything he was saying. It was like waking up from a nightmare - as though he were finally seeing himself for what he’d become: a beast every bit as vile as the one he had hunted. He shuddered and the ripple of revulsion that spread through him at that revelation soon turned into a deep, wracking sob.

He hadn’t realised how completely his mission had kept him from feeling the pain of Milah’s passing until now. But now? He knew it was over. His pain was unleashed. There was no use denying it anymore or begging for a second chance. For years, he had been determined: he could fix it and he would. But now he knew that wasn’t the case.

He was broken.

And nothing could ever put him back together again.

He sobbed long and hard.

He gasped for breath and the gulps of air burned his throat as he forced them down.

His heart seemed to beat harder as though it was struggling against the inevitable, determined to prove that it could still work even as it shattered into a million shards of ice, brittle, fragile, and unfeeling.

He curled in on himself. He drew his knees to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He dug his fingers into his upper arms in an attempt to anchor himself and not be carried away in a tide of depression.

Time stood still.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Tick.

Until.

He realised there were arms around him.

Gentle fingers running through his hair.

A soft shushing and murmured reassurances in his ear.

The warmth of a firm yet tender touch.

He was swaying in time with the comforting rocking of another.

Emma.

His breathing slowed, his heart rate returned to normal, the tears subsided.

He lifted his head and saw how close Emma’s face was to his. Her eyes were closed, lost in the need to soothe him, to make everything better for him. He gazed at her in unabashed awe. She had saved him from himself.  

She seemed to feel the force of his attention, her eyes opened and she looked at him. She met his eyes and instantly shrank away from his side guiltily. He missed her presence immediately, his head throbbed and he felt alone.

“Thank you,” he managed to croak out. He coughed, his throat ached and his voice was hoarse. “I - I need water.” Emma nodded, but didn’t look back at him. He leapt to his feet to get himself a drink, eager for the excuse to leave this awkward moment behind.

He busied himself with fetching drinks for both of them and tried to ignore what had just happened.

He returned to the living room with water for the both of them and they sat in silence.

“What was she like?” Emma’s words broke the awkward tension that had filled the room. He looked at her in surprise. “I just think she must have been very special for you to have tried to time travel for her. I’d like to hear about her - if you want to tell me of course.” Still he stared at her, surprised by the kind gesture. “It kind of seems like you need someone to talk to.”

How did she understand him so well already?

His friends had always wanted to help, but they had been so eager to see him recover that he found their attention stifling. He was struggling enough to adjust to his new life as an amputee, and their need to see him move on romantically too left him feeling broken and bitter.

You’re damaged, their actions said to him. You need fixing so you can stop being a burden - so we don’t have to worry about you anymore.

He knew that this was more than a little unfair to his nearest and dearest, but logic played no part in how he felt.

And now, here was this woman, who barely knew him, who might perhaps feel threatened by the ghost of his former love, and she could see exactly what he needed. How could he ever let her go?

“Milah loved to draw,” he began and Emma smiled, encouraging him to continue. “She was always looking for adventure and just taking a photo was never enough for her. She took so many pictures but when we travelled, she would still sit and sketch the people, the scenery, the exotic and unusual details she could see around us.” He laughed a little at the thought of her, lost in her own happy world, needing the peace of her art to help her process all the wonder around her despite filling entire rolls of film with photos. “She would sketch frantically, needing to record every detail, to make it hers. Those pictures are hers.” He gestured to the framed sketches adorning the wall above the TV.

Emma stood up and examined the scenes on the wall. Markets in India, bustling and full of life, tourists crowded around the Trevi Fountain in Rome throwing their coins and casting their wishes, lovers and families and friends sharing food and drinks in the cafes that spilled into the streets in Paris. Every scene carried that same chaotic, desperate pen stroke that was her trademark, creating detailed and vibrant scenes.

“She was so talented,” she said, her voice full of awe. She stared long at the lone painting in the middle of the drawings, a simple scene of the Thames in the moonlight, the lights of London glittering on the water. She gestured to the landscape as she turned back to Killian. “I love this one.”

Killian scratched behind his ear awkwardly. “That’s actually mine.” Emma’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “It was Milah’s favourite too. She insisted that we hang it alongside her pictures, but she was the one with the true talent.”

“You’re both amazing,” she said sincerely, once again staring at the art on the walls. “Do you still paint?”

“No,” his voice was hard and Emma looked back to him, frowning with concern. “I threw away my paints when - when everything happened. I didn’t have time for painting when I had Milah to save.” His voice turned wistful. “I never could bring myself to throw out her supplies though.”

He looked away from Emma’s penetrating gaze, stood up from the couch, and crossed to a bookshelf, plucking a sketchbook from it at random. He beckoned her to sit back down beside him, and when they were both seated, he held the book out to her. She took it hesitantly and opened it.

“This was one of Milah’s sketchbooks,” he explained, and Emma began to look through the book. She smiled at the patterns with the hastily scribbled notes, “Taj Mahal, 2007, stunning detail in the marble carvings”. The quick sketches of unaware women and children were studied with care, “lonely waitress, 2005”, “cheeky boy, 2008”, “happy siblings, 2006”.

The pictures of children always made Killian’s heart clench. They had wanted a family, had talked about trying for a baby, but Milah was scared of Gold’s retribution if she were to fall pregnant. Until he had completed his PhD, and they could leave England permanently, the risks were too great. But as time went on, Milah drew more and more children, longing for what she could not yet have. (For what she worried she might never have.)

Emma lingered over the pictures of the happiest children, Killian realised curiously. She seemed as drawn to their likenesses as Milah had been. He wondered at this, but would not push her to confide in him.

Emma turned a page and gasped a little. He looked down to see a picture of himself as he slept, lying on his stomach, his head resting on his folded arms. He was naked, although the sketch stopped at his waist, where a blanket covered his modesty. The picture was intimate, not obscene, merely a study of the muscles in his back. He hadn’t noticed over the years how his physique had filled out as he built his strength in his training, but he could see at a glance how much better defined his muscles were now, compared to the somewhat gangly figure he had in his youth.

Emma stroked a finger across the image and he looked up in surprise. A blush had spread across Emma’s face. Despite himself, he grinned at the effect that this simple sketch had on her. She seemed flustered by the sight and helpless to stop herself from turning her eyes to the patch of hair on his chest exposed by his unfastened buttons.

Unthinkingly, she reached a hand out towards him. He licked his lips as his heart beat faster and swallowed hard. Tension filled the air as she ran her fingers through the dark curls of chest hair. He let out a soft sigh, barely even a sound, but it was enough for her to jump back from him as though burned.

He blinked at her, watching as she curled in on herself, embarrassed by her actions. The intimacy of the moment was too much for him and he defaulted to outrageous flirting to distance himself from it. “See something you like, love?” he teased, sticking his tongue into his cheek and quirking his brow suggestively.

“You wish,” she snorted derisively. “I need a drink.” She ran to the kitchen in the corner of the room and busied herself with noisily opening cupboards, banging around in search of refreshment.

Killian stared at her untouched water glass on the coffee table. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one struggling with what just happened.

“So what did you get up to today?” he asked brightly when Emma returned, politely ignoring the way her cheeks reddened as she spotted the second drink resting on the table. “Not been sketching all day I assume?”

“I watched the TV - very strange things appear to be happening in this realm.”

“What kind of things?” he asked, cocking his head at her with curiosity.

“The lady in the TV said that all the dogs in a place called Batter…” she trailed off, and frowned, apparently struggling to remember the name.

“Battersea Dogs Home?” Killian guessed and her eyes lit up.

“Yes! Battersea Dogs Home. They all vanished and were replaced by wolves in the night - who turned into people in the morning.”

“What?”

“Werewolves. Somehow a hundred dogs were replaced with werewolves. I take it they aren’t all that common in the Land Without Magic?”

“They're a myth as far as we're concerned.”

“Not anymore. There were some angry women on the TV arguing about whether they should be kept locked up or not.”

Killian blanched. “They wanted to keep the people in cages?”

“I think it was actually the wolves they wanted to be locked up. They just couldn't see that they're people most of the time.”

“I don’t even know why I’m surprised.”

“There also was something called meat munchers -”

“I think you mean beefeaters,” Killian cut in, trying hard to keep a straight face.

“Whatever. Guards with stupid hats. They showed a moving picture thingy of them turning into the Evil Queen’s black guards. That was just a temporary glitch though. They all seem to be back to normal now.”

“Oh well, nothing to worry about if it’s only temporary,” he said sarcastically.

Emma raised a brow at him. “That machine of yours has caused more than enough permanent damage for us to worry about.”

He had no reply for her. Like it or not, she was absolutely right.

“The ruler of this kingdom was on the news talking about the ‘chaos in the capital’ too.”

“James Nolan actually did something?” Killian asked, stunned.

Emma scrunched her nose in disgust. “No. Not unless you call making vague speeches ‘doing something’. I only really remember him because he looks like my f- like someone I know.”

Killian looked at her quizzically, but she was once again taking a deep interest in Milah’s sketches so he wouldn’t press her to explain whatever it was that she stopped herself from saying. “Nolan really should have told me he’d be making speeches. I wouldn’t have spent all that time in the lab today if I knew he was going to be sorting everything out for me. What’s a doctorate in astrophysics and quantum mechanics compared to a first class degree in bullshit?”

Emma snorted with laughter and immediately looked a little ashamed at the noise. Killian thought it was utterly delightful to hear someone so happy (and if he was the cause of that, so much the better). Especially when it seemed that she’d been on the verge of retreating into a dark funk - he’d experienced enough himself to recognise the signs.

“It’s okay to laugh at my impeccable wit, Swan, I’m naturally hilarious, it’s understandable that you can’t help yourself.”

At this she rolled her eyes, but it brought the smile back to her face as he’d hoped it would. “I was thinking actually -”

“How I got to be so witty?” He hadn’t meant it as yet another show of false bravado, genuinely confused by where her train of thought could be going, but it came off as Killian Jones, Cocky Bastard™, all the same. He cringed internally, but grinned all the same.

“Surprisingly I find other things to think about than your big head.”

“I find it hard to believe you think about anything but me, but, please, do go on.”

“Well, you see, I was thinking that perhaps Ishouldbeusingmymagictohelp.” In her rush to get her words out, Emma didn’t seem to pause in between each one, running them all together into something that was almost - but not quite - English.

“Come again? It’s the Germans who go in for the big compound words, here in Great Britain we like to breathe in between them. Makes it easier for people to understand us you see.”

“Seriously?”

He knew that her exasperation was at his teasing banter, but he couldn’t resist reacting as though her question were sincere. “Seriously, you should try it sometime.”

“God ok, I thought I should using my magic to help, happy now?” She was glaring at him and he figured that he shouldn’t want to grin in delight at her, but he couldn’t help it.

“Aye,” he said with a nod, “very happy in fact. That sounds like an absolutely marvellous idea.”

“It does?”

He was confused at her uncertainty. “Why of course it does, you rescued me from certain death at the hands of an angry dragon, I doubt there’s anything you couldn’t overcome once you put your mind to it.”

One corner of her lip quirked up into a smile almost involuntarily. “Thanks,” she breathed out, looking directly at him with genuine gratitude radiating from her.

“I don’t know what I’ll do with myself when I don’t have you around to clean up my mess.” He’d meant it as a joke, but it felt just a little too genuine. He climbed to his feet and ambled over to his leather satchel, digging out the spare keys and phone he'd bought earlier. “It's just as well I picked these up for you on my way home,” he said, dropping them in Emma's lap, “you can't save London Town if you can't leave my flat.”

Emma picked up the phone turning it over in her hands. “Is this one of those talking phone things?” she asked.

“Just a phone, love. I can set it up for you, program my number in.” He caught the blank expression on Emma's face. “You'll have a Killian button, press it and you can talk to me if you need to.”

Killian thought he caught a glimpse of something akin to amazed gratitude in her eyes, but it was quickly gone leaving just a smirk on her face. “You think I'll need to talk to you?”

“Just in case my realm with its technological wizardry confuses you.”

“There aren't any wizards in your realm,” Emma reminded him.

“You'll have no need to call for my assistance then. I'm sure you're quite capable of handling anything alone, but you don't have to.”

There was a moment of silence between them, Emma looked overwhelmed by the sentiment and he found that he did too. It shouldn't have been much, but after shutting out his friends for so long, it felt like everything. He didn't know what had happened to her, but they understood each other and he was sure this was just a little too emotional and meaningful for her, as it was for him.

“Tomorrow, we best get you some new clothes,” he said, avoiding her eyes and desperately focusing on practical concerns. “Can't have you saving the world in Ruby's pulling clothes. It's Saturday, Gold might expect me to work, but I'm not letting that wanker dictate my schedule. Now how about some dinner?” He made to stand, but she stopped him with a tug on his arm.

“I don't know how I'll ever repay you for - ”

He couldn't look at her, feeling like a fraud in the warmth of her gratitude. He didn't deserve it. “No need, I'm just cleaning up my mess.”

“Killian,” she said, but stopped and waited until he met her eyes. “It's more than that and it - ” she took a deep breath “- it matters. Thank you.”

He nodded to show he understood, but couldn't find the words. Somehow in just a few days Emma had come to mean so much to him. He would give her everything, but still it wouldn't be enough to mean that he could keep her with him. He wasn't worthy of her and he never would be.

[amyscascadingtabs]

you must be my once in a lifetime

Jake had said that night at Shaw’s he could pinpoint the exact moment he knew he wanted to spend the rest of her life with her. It wasn’t quite as straightforward for Amy. Not that she didn't want to marry him - the opposite, of anything - there were simply too many moments to choose from.

Or, how Amy figured out she wanted to marry Jake.

2976 words // read on ao3

Jake had said that night at Shaw’s he could pinpoint the exact moment he knew he wanted to spend the rest of her life with her.

It wasn’t quite as straightforward for Amy. Not that she didn't want to marry him - the opposite, of anything - there were simply too many moments to choose from.

She had never put marriage or kids on the physical life calendar. It was too risky, too uncontrollable and had too elevated of a risk being broken. Thinking about spending her forever with someone had given her more than one panic attack before, and she wasn’t even excessively scared of commitment. She was purely... cautious. She was hesitant to be sure about a thing so definite as forever when death threats and time spent undercover seemed an unavoidable part of the career path she had chosen. And did she really want to settle down only because it was expected of her? No, marriage had been the last thing on her mind for so long the first time Amy thought about it, it shocked even her.

~

Jake had stayed over at her apartment countless times before. She was as used as she could be to waking up to the cutest of light snores and the ever impressive bedhead, and yet this time was special. He wasn’t staying over. He was home.

Yesterday had been a long day of unpacking boxes and laughing over the unreal absurdity of the fact that their possessions were now crammed into the same two-bedroom Brooklyn apartment. After a celebratory pizza dinner eaten straight from the box while they sat on the counter, complete with toasting in orange soda and wine respectively, they were officially living together. His sneakers were on her shoe rack, the skincare products she’d bought him for Christmas had taken place next to her own in the bathroom cabinets, and a single Die Hard poster adorned the inside of the closet where neatly ironed pantsuits and flannels now hung side by side. For the first time in her since-college life, Amy Santiago was living together with someone else.

Her waking up first was the norm rather than it was unusual. With Teddy she’d often found herself bored to death waiting for him to wake up, had even made a habit of going for a run in the morning so she wouldn’t have to lay there idly for at least an hour. She’d never needed an escape-plan with Jake. With him she could lay there for what felt like forever, listening to the sound of his breathing, smiling when she sometimes heard her own name mixed in with the incoherent mumbles he made in his sleep. She could admire the ruffled hair and the sight of him in either a baggy t-shirt or nothing at all, stare at him for exactly as long as she wanted without anyone asking what the hell she was doing, and after the six months they had spent apart earlier she never wanted to stop.

The bed was so much warmer with him in it, a godsend blessing to her always cold self. Moving closer to him so she could obtain more of the welcomed heat, she took the moment in act to press a few lazy kisses to the little dip in his shoulder.

“Mm-hmm”, he responded to this action, voice still heavy with sleep. “Morning, Ames.”

“Morning, Jake.”

“Time is it?”

“Half past eight.”

“S’early. “ He feigned annoyance, putting his right arm around her to draw her so close she was practically on top of him. “Need more sleep.”

“Jake, we shouldn’t waste a whole day because we have off. We should get up and eat breakfast.” An idea popped into her head. “I can make pancakes.”

“Oh, no .” The look on his face as she said this was one of genuine horror. “I’m not letting you almost burn down my kitchen again.”

“ My kitchen? Excuse me - since when is this your kitchen?”

“Since yesterday! And I’m not letting you set fire to it.”

“Okay, then.” She reluctantly moved to allow him the chance to get out of bed. “You’re in charge of pancakes.”

“For you and only for you, Amy Santiago.”

She helped set the table and make coffee while he whisked together the ready-made mix and flipped imperfect, but guaranteedly less burnt than hers would have been, pancakes. Maybe , Amy thought when they sat down to eat, the two of them could do this for a long time .

~

The m-word wasn’t yet explicitly on her mind. Somewhere in the background, though, she could feel it hiding.

It hid there as winter turned into spring and the cherry blossom trees in Central Park started blooming, as she booked the sergeant’s exam with shaking hands and created a notoriously detailed schedule to have time for studying, work and little bouts of free-time where she could get them.

It hid there when she and Jake babysat Terry’s kids and she listened to him try to explain racism to two four-year-olds without frightening them. When they left Terry’s house still chatting about what an exhausting but also rewarding of an experience babysitting had been, she had sworn she could feel the voice in her head change from kids are out of the picture to if I want kids, I want them with him .

It hid there when he found her on the rooftop of 397 Barton Street, convinced her to take the exam and promised of course things would change between them if she passed , but change wasn’t always a bad thing. She’d linked hands with him as they walked to his favourite ice cream place after the test to celebrate, thinking once again maybe they really were in this for good.

It hid there in the car at Flaxton Hill farms when she promised she would wait those fifteen years if she had to, would keep working and fighting and doing it all for him. It hid there when she gasped for breath after the jury declared him guilty and it hid there when the first visiting day finally came and she got to hug him and breathe in his scent for a few dreamlike seconds. It hid there when she finally calmed down after an hour-long panic attack in the car as they were about to leave, because Boyle didn’t know how to help her through them like Jake did and she needed Jake there with her , now and maybe even forever.

~

“I’m never letting you go again”, she whispered when he was finally filling up the space in their bed that had been empty for those eight, long weeks of prison.

“Good”, he whispered back, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close, close until there was no space between them at all. “Because I’m not leaving.”

“Good. Because I don’t want you to.”

“I love you.” He kissed the top of her head, cupping her face with both his hands to look into her eyes. “So much. I missed you so much. And as much as I thought about sex with you while in prison, which I promise was loads and definitely more than I thought about the food I wished I was eating, I think I’m going to pass out if we don’t go to sleep now so it’s going to have to wait.”

“A true romantic.” She laughed and pressed a last kiss for the night to his lips before closing her eyes. “I’m just glad you’re here. There will be other nights.”

“So many other nights”, he agreed.

Maybe the rest of our lives , the voice in her head whispered. I really want it to be the rest of our lives.

~

“I think I want to marry him”, she admitted to her two year younger brother, Tony, in the end of a long phone call where he’d originally called her to get a big sister’s opinion on a girl he’d started seeing.

(“You’re good with love stuff”, he explained when she asked him why he was calling her for romantic advice. “How are things going with Jake, anyway?”)

“Well, maybe you should. You guys seem pretty solid.”

“He literally just got out of prison. I don’t think it’s the greatest time to propose.”

“You don’t have to do it now. But you could - I don’t know - set a date? Mark a random date a few months from now and decide if he hasn’t proposed by then, you’ll do it.”

“...Actually not a terrible idea.” She reached for her pen and notepad to scribble a date down, the first she remembered.   14th of January 2018 - the four year anniversary of their post-bet-date, exactly three months away. “Thanks. How… when did you get so supportive of me getting married, anyway?”

“Because I’ve only seen you with him once, but in all of the time I spent growing up with you I still don’t think I ever saw you so happy. Not even when you won your school’s Math competition in sixth grade or when you got into the academy.” He coughed, and although it wasn’t a video call she could swear he was blushing. “If you tell any of our other siblings I got all emotional on the phone with you - “

“I won’t, Tony. Promise.”

She folded the note carefully after drawing a heart around the date, then hid it in one of her old art history books where she knew Jake wouldn’t go looking.

~

Seventeen days later his proposal still took her entirely by surprise. It was all she’d ever dreamt of, butt-mentions and all, casually moving her to tears when Jake admitted planning the heist turned proposal was the one thing which truly kept him sane during prison.

“We’re getting married!” They repeated it to each other between kisses over and over while celebrating at Shaw’s, her strict rules about limited PDA becoming decreasingly strict the later it got and the more drinks she had.

“Everyone heard you the first time, you don’t have to keep repeating it”, said Rosa with a swig of her beer. Jake’s gaze didn’t stray from Amy’s as he answered.

“Too bad, because I’m never going to shut up about it.”

She tried out the words for the first time in her mind the next morning, whispering them over and over to herself.

Jake Peralta, my husband.

She loved the sound of them as much as she loved the sight of the gorgeous ring on her finger.

~

Even when all of her careful planning for the perfect wedding was shattered into smithereens by a bomb threat, the ceremony still ended up being the most wonderful memory of her life. It wasn’t even remotely close to what they’d planned, but it was beautiful and it was them and nothing could have made it more perfect.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you”, she told him after her vows, meaning every word of it and more.

Had anyone told Amy back when she’d just started enjoying the company of her immature but entertaining deskmate she would be sliding a thin gold band onto his left ring finger one day, she wouldn’t have been able to stop laughing. Jake Peralta, growing up enough to want to settle down? Unlikely. Her, falling for the goofy grin that absolutely did not make her heart skip a beat sometimes? Not happening. The two of them becoming something other than two strictly professional colleagues who were both highly skilled at their profession? Never. Until they did.

She’d fallen for his ability to make her laugh, stumbled again for the unusual yet fascinating way his mind jumped to conclusions in its own way, and tumbled right down a rapidly descending hill for the way he showed he genuinely cared about her whether it was as a friend or as something more. And yes, fine, he was stupidly attractive as well. The smirk had done things to her from the start, but so had the soft brown eyes making her feel at home when she looked into them, so had the hands she kept imagining roaming her body whenever she let herself look at them for more than a split second.

Three years of being in a relationship with him had taught her not only an unreasonable amount of Die Hard facts and too many Taylor Swift lyrics for her liking, but also the charm of sometimes breaking rules and allowing things to be unpredictable. It had taught her even though they appeared so different, their competitiveness and passion made them strikingly similar when it came to the important things. He had grown up a little, learned how showing emotions didn’t equal death and preparing for things could be of great benefit sometimes. She had learned relaxing a little didn’t automatically lead to the worst outcome, and even if it did, he would be right there with her to handle the consequences.

(She had also learned Jake Peralta was a great kisser.)

(Great at other stuff, too.)

( God , she was lucky.)

How could she not want forever with that?

~

“Crazy to think the two of you are married”, said Rosa when they were all at Shaw’s after the ceremony, sipping the glass of whiskey she’d asked for after Amy insisted she would buy her a drink as a thank you for the bouquet and attempt at fixing the veil. “Gina and I were betting on how long you two would make it when you first got together, but neither of us thought you’d last more than a month.”

“Why not?”

“Felt unlikely, I guess. Never thought you’d date someone from work, or someone who wasn’t the single most boring man you could find. Kind of seemed to be your type for a while. But you surprised us all. Well done.” She raised his half-full glass to her friend’s champagne flute. “Jake’s earned himself one hell of a badass wife.”

“Wife. Sounds so official.” Amy faked a shudder. “No going back.”

“Not unless you get a divorce. Don’t get a divorce, please - Charles would probably kill himself”, her best friend and fellow sleuth sister added.

“I don’t think we’ll be needing one.” She looked over at her husband, perched on a barstool talking to Gina, warmth and affection emanating from the knowing smile he aimed at her upon meeting her gaze. “I haven’t gotten to say the words my husband nearly enough times yet.”

“God, you two are going to be so annoying from now on”, Rosa groaned.

~

They slept in late the next morning, feeling rather well-deserved of some rest after yesterday’s chaos.

“Hey.” She flinched awake at the sound of Jake’s voice, still raspy from sleep, next to her ear. “Morning, wife.”

“Morning, husband.” Saying the word sent a warm, tingling sensation through her body. “You woke up before me.”

“Not by a lot. It’s boring being awake without you.” He kissed her temple, once, twice. “Then again - every single day I get to be with you at all is crazy to me.”

“I recognize that. Is it a Harry Potter quote, by any chance?” She teased, dragging her left hand through his hair to draw him closer and kiss him, not even caring about morning breath when he was right there and real and her husband.

“For practically having made them up on the spot during our impromptu wedding outside a police precinct, I think my vows are actually better than a Harry Potter quote.”

“You think your wedding vows are better than ‘Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light’?” Amy gasped, doing her best attempt at looking offended.

“I’m saying they’re up there, somewhere.” There was the goofy grin again, melting what little attitude she was trying to gather. “Also, you’re wrong about best Harry Potter quote. The best one is clearly ‘Do not pity the dead, pity the living, and above all those who live without love’.”

“Are you trying to seduce me with the help of Harry Potter quotes?”

“Is it working?” She kissed him again in response, with more passion and intensity now than the lazy kisses of before.

“I can’t believe my husband is a giant nerd.”

“Hey! That’s ‘giant nerd who read those books because his wife loves them so much’ to you, thank you.”

“I know. I love you.”

“Love you too.” He laced his left hand into hers, admiring the sight of their identical gold rings gleaming in the sunshine seeping through their blinds. “Ready for our first breakfast together as spouses, Mrs. Santiago-Peralta?”

“More than ready.”

Since Amy Santiago learned to read at a mere three and a half years of age, she’d gone through an extensive list of favorite words. Epiphany had been one of them, one of the first big words her father had taught her to pronounce. Serendipity, expectations, quintessential, oblivion - lengthy, sophisticated words to embellish written as well as spoken sentences.

Eating a fresh cream cheese bagel from the bakery down the street and drinking a scalding hot cappuccino from the same place with Jake trying his best to help her solve the Times crossword puzzle she hadn’t had the time for yesterday, she decided it was time to add a new one to the list.

Husband - defined by Oxford Dictionaries as a married man considered in relation to his spouse and defined by her as the word she could now use freely to describe the love of her life.

The prospect of forever had horrified her up until she started realizing she might actually want it with the man sitting across from her, chewing absentmindedly on the lid of a pen and making little progress with the puzzle he had offered his assistance with. Now, she felt like forever wouldn’t be nearly enough.

[hopevorld]

♡ host; jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

warnings: fluff in which jungkook isn’t the best chef

word count: 981

9. “We need to make food for how many people?!?” & 21. “This is officially the worst Christmas party ever.”

➝ day 3 of 25 from the festive drabbles! (feel free to request)

You’re awoken from your peaceful slumber by someone shaking at your arm and you roll over onto your side, groaning into the pillow and burying yourself deeper into the duvet. Not even 5 seconds later you feel the duvet being ripped from you and you groan, opening one eye and crooking your neck to see your boyfriend dressed in...an apron?

“What the fuck are you wearing?” you laugh, rolling onto your back and you watch Jungkook sit down on the bedside, dusting his hands off on his grey apron.

“Did you forget?” his eyes are as wide as saucers when he sees how relaxed you are, “it’s the party tonight!” 

You feel your entire life flash before your eyes, sitting up so fast you almost break your back. 

“Tonight?!” you can’t even contain your shock and you scramble out of bed, almost tripping over the clothes you’d both discarded the night before and grabbing your dressing gown from the wardrobe.

“Yes, tonight,” Jungkook stands from the bed and walks towards the door, “and we’re cooking for about 50 people so please hurry up.” 

“We need to make food for how many people?!?” your voice raises 2 octaves in disbelief and when you turn around to curse at your boyfriend for not waking you earlier, or for keeping you up so late last night, he’s already gone and halfway down the hallway.

You traipse out of the bedroom, your fluffy socks dragging across the floor and your heart warms at the sight of a cup of coffee and 2 slices of toast, one with jam and one with Nutella, placed neatly on the table waiting for you, a strong comparison to the chaos surrounding you in the kitchen. You sit down at the table and Jungkook is running circles around you as if he was on an episode of Kitchen Nightmares.

“You rarely make me breakfast,” taking a bite out of your toast, you watch him attempt to read cooking instructions for about 4 food platters at the same time. “is this some sort of bribe to get me to help?”

He laughs, pausing his reading to cast a look at you. “Well it wasn’t supposed to be,” he shrugs, “but that’s a smart idea.” 

His hair is messy and his face is bare and you can tell he hadn’t woken up much earlier than you did, sleep still in his eyes and imprints of the pillow still faint on his skin. 

Standing from the table, you ditch the rest of your coffee and join Jungkook in cooking for the 50 people you apparently had attending tonight and you couldn’t help but wonder if you were ever going to pull this off.

You swear you’ve never seen your apartment so full, 50 people seemed like an understatement as you wiggle your way through the crowd of people in the lounge, saying hi to your friends and giving people you don’t even recognise a fake smile as you pass them, to get to the kitchen, joining your boyfriend who looked extremely distressed.

“Babe?” he flinches at your voice, shoulders tensing at the feel of your hand at the small of his back. Turning to face you, he’s holding a tray full of very burnt... burgers? Pancakes? You can’t even figure it out because they’re basically charred, gone beyond repair, cremated.... you could go on for years.

“What..is that?” you’re trying to hard not to laugh and you look up at his face to see what you swear were tears in his eyes and you can’t help but coo, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. “Babe, don’t get upset.”

“This was the first party we’ve thrown at this apartment and I wanted it to be perfect,” he sighs, chucking the tray onto the counter next to him and leaning into your touch, hand coming up to rest against yours. “This is officially the worst Christmas party ever.”

You press a soft kiss to his pouted lips and he relaxes his shoulders, eyes fluttering to look into yours and his facial expression warms when he sees how beautiful you look. 

“One, It doesn’t matter if you burn all of the food-”

Jungkook cuts you off, “I didn’t burn it all!”

“Okay,” you hold in a laugh, “One, it doesn’t matter if you burn some food because we cooked enough and even if it’s shit we’ll order takeout and two, you’re the best host out there and any party you throw will be the best.”

He goes to open his mouth in response but he’s interrupted by a very drunk Taehyung bursting into the kitchen, “This eggnog is fucking amazing.” you can’t figure out if he’s talking to you or himself as he looks down at the glass in his hand, smiling fondly at it.

“When are you two lovebirds joining the party?” he’s looking at you both now, eyes flickering between the two of you and he takes another swig from his drink, reaching up to fix the Santa hat on his head.

“We’ll be out in a bit,” Jungkook is first to respond, amused at the sight of his best friend being so out of it so early into the party. “Nice hat.”

“Thanks man! I thought, since it’s a Christmas party I may as well go all out, hopefully I can get Nayoung to sit on my lap too!” and with a wiggle of his eyebrows, he skips out of the room.

“Come on,” you lean into Jungkook and he watches you, eyes slowly following the neckline of your dress as it disappears into nothing. “maybe if you can find a Santa hat I’ll be sitting on your lap by the end of the night.” 

And at that Jungkook is dragging you out of the kitchen, the food long forgotten about now and into the lounge to find your mutual friends, or mainly just to find Taehyung to steal that blessed Santa’s hat from his head.

[mythomagically-delicious]

Filbrick stubbornly clinged onto life for all these years. He’s still kicking when Ford comes out of the portal. He hasn’t worked at the pawn shop in ages. But he does have the apartment upstairs still. He rents out the space below.

He’s the one fixture of that street in Glass Shard Beach. The stores and families on either side went out of business in the late 80s. The families moved out to suburban New Jersey, away from the ocean. But Filbrick never left.

His routine has only varied slightly, because even he must bow to time and how it changes things. He wakes up at 5:30 every morning, gets dressed and ready for the day. Sunglasses in place, fedora atop his head. The same scratchy suit he’s worn for most of his adult life. He eats breakfast of burnt toast (he never could work the dam thing right. His wife had a way in the kitchen, not him). He picks up the newspaper off the stoop and reads every single article, huffing and scoffing at how flowery and unrealistic the articles are.

He makes himself a simple lunch. He yells at the golf match on tv or the birds outside his window or the kids throwing balls around in the street below, damaging the brick walls.

In the evenings he takes a short walk down to the beach, right to the edge of the sand, and stares out at the ocean. The waves are dark and choppy as the sun sets behind him. He stares until he’s cold and then he walks home, in later years with a cane, back to his colder apartment.

He’s walked to the ocean every evening since his wife passed. He still hasn’t understood what is so dam enticing about the ocean. What adventure could possibly be left? Everything’s already been seen before. But his dear’s last requests included getting to know something about their sons. He cursed himself as being weak, later. For agreeing. For letting a tear slip down his face as he promised his wife he’d do as she asked, just this once.

That he let sentiment get the best of him and now look what he’s doing. Being an old man who’ll catch his death in the cold trying to please his long-gone wife. But he hasn’t spoken to either son in too long to call them, as Cassandra surely meant for him to do. But a man’s word is his everything. So he walked to the ocean every night and tried to understand what connection the boys had with it.

For years, all he’d been able to see was some bitter water and broken glass and dirty sand. He was never one for those artistic symbols or whatever hippy-dippy junk English teachers spouted on about. So any deeper meaning or metaphors to draw on about his life relationships was lost on Filbrick.

But one day, as he was walking to the beach, stopping right at the edge of the sand, he saw something strange.

Occasionally he’d run into others at the beach. Other neighborhood fixtures like him or families coming down for the day, playing in the sand, against the waves, picking up shells and making noise. He ignored them, kids usually. And they ignored him in return.

But this evening as he went down to the beach’s edge he saw two older gentleman jumping around in the sand. Not older than Filbrick, mind, but they had to be in their fifties or pushing sixties. Yet here were two full grown men, acting like absolute children. Kicking sand at each other, cupping ocean water into hands and bringing it back to make a sandcastle. Throwing shells and exclaiming loudly over their beauty or ugliness. Dragging seaweed into strange designs. Cursing when they stepped on some of the ground up glass still visible in the sand.

Behaving like absolute children, Filbrick was astonished. He didn’t watch the ocean that night, just those two. Something seemed strangely familiar about them, though he honestly didn’t pay enough attention to the neighborhood to recognize them by sight or voice.

He was backlit by the sun, and maybe that was why he could see their expressions so clearly. For Filbrick sneezed, nose getting irritated at the salty breeze, and both men turned automatically at the sound to bless him.

The men wore twin looks of being startled. Filbrick assumed they had to be brothers. He felt a chill go down his spine as he realized they were almost certainly twins. The men, now aware they were being watched, moved closer together and started walking towards Filbrick. He resolutely ignored them and stared over their head to the ocean. He wouldn’t be intimidated from his purpose by two strangers on <i>his</i> beach.

He heard their low voices as they approached but still didn’t look at them. They stopped just before him and stared.

“Filbrick Pines?” Asked the man on the left. That startled Filbrick out of his try at ignoring them, and looked at the two men before him.

It was almost like looking into a mirror, if he could see 20-some years in the past. The men had the same nose, jaw, and set look about them that Filbrick recognized. It was strange, but not uncommon enough to mean anything.

“Yes. Who are you?” He responded briskly.

The men shared a quick, sidelong glance and then turned back to him. The man on the right stood a little straighter, while the man on the left cleared his throat.

“Stanford Pines.”

“Stanley Pines.”

They spoke at the same time and Filbrick felt his mouth run dry. He felt his legs weaken but his voice was strong, if a bit quieter than normal, when he answered.

“Impossible. Stanley’s gone. And I haven’t spoken to Stanford in years. We’re not on terms. Who are you?”

The men exchanged another glance with expressions changing too fast for Filbrick to follow.

“Pa,” the man on the left started gently, only to be interrupted as the man on the right grabbed his friend’s arm and held it in front of Filbrick’s face.

“Looky here, old man. This is your second son, and I’m your third, back from the dead, live in living color.” He dropped the man’s arm and crossed his own over his chest.

“Stan,” lefty hissed looking cross before turning back to Filbrick cautiously. “But yes, that is accurate.

Filbrick looked back and forth between the two men, jaw going slack. He shook his head as if to clear it, but the men before him didn’t disappear. His brain felt like it was short-circuiting. He didn’t understand, he didn’t know what was happening. Through his overloaded haze, one question slipped out, almost without his permission.

”<i>Why?</i>“ he asked, trembling a bit harder now. He gripped the handle of his cane tighter and tried to focus.

The men tilted their heads at the exact same time, at the exact same questioning angle.

” ‘Why’ what, exactly? There are many things you could be referring to.“ Stanford answered, ever the smart-alec as he reached up to adjust his glasses.

Stanley stared at him impassively, expression hardening slightly the longer Filbrick spent floundering for words.

"Come on. What happened to 'Frankly is the only way I speak’? Huh? You’re bein’ worst than a tourist.”

“Boys,” Filbrick started, which earned a snort and an eyeroll from Stan but he pushed on, only one thought in mind. “Why did you like the ocean so much?”

That was obviously what neither had been expecting. It was their turns to drop their jaws, to watch eyes widen and then narrow. To see them give each other those twin looks Filbrick remembered from years and years ago.

“You finally see us after thirty years,”

“And more,” added Stanley.

“And all you want to know is why we came out to the beach as kids?!”

Ford’s tone was filled with incredulity, Stan’s with anger. Filbrick shook his head but when he went to open his mouth, all he could say was, “Cass told me to ask.”

Filbrick looked down and away, embarrassed he’d let slip something so personal. He felt shaken to his core, that his sons were here in front of him, <i>alive</i>, even, and he had no idea why or where they came from or how long they’d been here.

He didn’t see Stan’s expression soften at the mention of their mother. Ford put a hand on Stan’s shoulder and Stan nodded his thanks.

“Initially I enjoyed it because it got us away from you,” Ford started, feeling Stan tense up at the casual tone he took to insult their father to his face. Ford continued on, acting oblivious to Stan’s distress, not even being able to see Filbrick’s eyes widening behind his sunglasses. “But later it became an escape from many unbearable aspects of life. Bullies especially. But most of all I liked coming to the ocean because Stan did. We found so much to do and see here, every day was an adventure, even if we kicked the same rocks every day for a year, it always felt new and fun every day. It’s where we founded our life long dream of sailing away from this dumb place, and all the terrible things about it. Like you, or schools that hated us, or children that called us freaks and losers or worthless.”

Filbrick felt each word hit him like a stone. He felt like he wanted to get angry, but everything felt so far away. Emotions did not come easily to him, but now he felt overwhelmed with everything Ford said.

Stan looked up and responded as well. “I liked the beach because I felt free down here. The happiest memories I got left of this place was that little strip of sand. Pulling a derelict boat out of a cave and promising my best friend that one day life wouldn’t kick us in the teeth anymore.”

Filbrick looked down, and slowly pulled off his sunglasses. He folded them and put them in his suit pocket. He took a hesitant step forward and, for the first time in all the years he’d been coming to the beach, he actually stepped foot on the sand. Stan and Ford watched him, muscles tensed as if ready for a fight.

Filbrick didn’t intend on giving them one. But he smiled a small bit and looked between his sons. “I like it because it’s nice, down here. It’s cold and it’s crunchy but with the sun behind me, it’s not half bad.”

Stan and Ford looked at him like he was crazy. Hell, maybe he was. But he had finally been able to fulfill his promise to Cass. He shivered as the night air swept over him, and he started to turn back to walk home. Before he did he paused, and looked at his sons.

“Good luck, out there. On the ocean. You don’t deserve to be kicked in the teeth. You probably never did.” And he turned away.

He walked slowly back to his apartment. He made a small dinner and ate it. He got ready for bed and was asleep by 10 o'clock.

The next morning he woke up at 5:30 in the morning. He went about his routine in silence. And when evening came, he walked outside and to the beach, right to the edge of it. He toed off his shoes and socks, and walked onto the beach proper, feeling the sand squish between his toes and watching out for any shells or shards of glass. He walked right up to the water and let it wash over his feet, getting the bottom of his slacks wet.

He didn’t care. He let four tears fall, one for each son, and one for Cassandra. In the distance he saw a boat pushing out to sea. He had no proof, for many boats took this route, but something in him told him that was his sons.

“I finally get it, Cass. For you, I finally get it.”

Filbrick clinged to life for another three years before passing alone in his house over the newspaper he read every day. After that night he’d only returned to the beach on the anniversary of his wife’s death.

Filbrick Pines was a stubborn man. Too set in his ways of silence to try and find his sons again before he passed. But he finally felt like he understood something about them. And despite how hippy-dippy it felt, he thought he learned something about himself, too.

[thea-silver-blog]

Practice Challenge 1: Shatter

“I swear, Thea, if I die out here, I’m haunting your ass for the next thousand years.”

Thea tried to resist a smile and failed miserably. Her frozen lips stretched ear to ear and a giggle escaped. It was loud in the silence of the winter night. Violet spun around and stomped her foot with all the dignity of a two-year-old. Thea would know.

“I’m serious!”

“Oh, I know you are. That’s why it’s so funny to me. I’m imagining explaining it to my children. Sorry, kids, the angry woman who follows me around is the pissed off soul of my best friend – sorry, former best friend – who died of the cold and blames me for her poor life choices.”

“It was your idea to come out here!”

“It was my poor life choice. It didn’t have to be yours too. That’s all you, sweetie.”

Violet huffed and buried herself deeper in her coat, her wide brown eyes darting every which way. It looked like it was trying to eat her and winning. Thea considered saying this out loud but bit her tongue. Just in case Violet was actually scared, she didn’t need to worry about a predatory parka . . . or anything else out in the woods that might have a similar appetite.

“Come on, Violet,” Thea slung an arm over her shoulder. “I’ve done this plenty of times.”

“And yet that doesn’t help.”

“It will be worth it?”

“Nope.”

“I’ve done crazier?”

“NO!” Violet exclaimed. “What?! What have you done that’s crazier than this?”

Thea remembered the day on the lake and decided not to mention it to Violet. It was the one secret she had managed never to tell her best friend. Thea had worst secrets that she had spilled with no hesitation, but that day on the lake seemed . . . hers. For Thea had discovered something that day that had terrified her and to say it out loud would make it too real.

Maybe she could tell Violet at some point; maybe when the day came that Thea didn’t think about it. But it was apparently not the day.              

“Nothing. Wrestling bears. Taking meth. Selling my soul to the guy in the alley across from my house.”

“You’re not funny.”

“I am hilarious. After a few decades of haunting me, you’ll see it.”

“Decades? I have wait that long?”

“Yeah, my humor’s like a fine wine. It needs time to reach its maximum flavor.”

“You’re trying to distract me.”

“I’m insulted that you think I can only be witty when I have an ulterior motive.” Thea clutched her chest, gasping in indignation. “How dare you, the most pesky judge on the planet –“

“You drama queen.”

But Violet was smiling and she was no longer drowning in her jacket. In fact, she was moving faster than Thea. Thea could feel the tension unwinding as Violet’s playful streak took over. Thea was glad because almost, for just a moment, she shared Violet’s fear. Being reckless was easier when no one else was in danger.

Thea kept up the banter. Most people believed Violet was shy, but she was one of the few people in their small city who could match Thea word for word.

With Violet as company, they were on Thea’s favorite ledge in no time. They managed to make a small little place for themselves, comfortable almost to a point of sleep, right before it began.

It started with a shimmer on the horizon, a wave of yellow and green light that kissed the sky. It reminded Thea of a heartbeat, rising steadily one step at a time until it was a curtain. The green rippled and danced, a flicker of pink whispering around the edges and disappearing just as quickly as it came. It was twisted, curling, chaotic, but beautiful.

So beautiful.

Thea wanted to keep it with her forever. Inspiration flared in her so brightly it nearly choked her. It was a familiar sensation.

“I want to make jewelry that feels like this,” she whispered to Violet. “So that I never have to be without it. I want to share it with everyone because it feels too big for just me.”

Violet sighed and poked Thea. “How can a wiseass like you be so ridiculously soft?”

“Natural talent,” Thea immediately replied. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”

Violet snorted. “So, this is your secret watch-the-lights hangout. Did you bring Natalie here?”

“Once,” Thea admitted. It felt like a long time ago, but it had only been a year since her only real relationship. It had lasted four months and then . . . everything happened. Thea had broken up with Natalie a week later. “She thought the lights were pretty, said my eyes were reflective, and we made out all night.”

“I agree with one and two, but three is a bit unlikely.”

“Why did I bring you out here again?”

After rolling her eyes, Violet asked, “Are you going to enter the Selection?”

Thea had seen the question coming. There was a reason Violet asked her then; because they both felt that pull. Staring at the incredible power of the Aurora borealis, they wanted . . . more. Thea felt is resonating inside her. She wanted out of her small town, out of the cold snow, out of her house, and out of her current life. There was an entire world out there, and she wanted all of it.

And the Selection could give her that. But her secrets were safe in St. George where no one questioned or wondered. They wouldn’t be with the media watching her every move.

Thea said, “The prince wouldn’t be able to handle me.”

“Well, that’s a given. But that doesn’t mean he has to stay that way.”

“What if he’s boring?”

“You’ll still get to watch one man try to keep up with thirty-five women. At least if he’s boring, that certainly won’t be. It will be a bloodbath of epic proportions.”

“There will be snobby people there.”

“And you’re worried about not fitting in.”

Thea swatted at Violet, earning a giggle from her. “Besides,” Violet choked out past her laughter, “The prince might surprise you.”

“And if he finds out about me, I’d be eliminated right away if not worst.”

“True,” Violet admitted quietly. “But . . . you’ll be out.”

The word struck a chord in both of them.

“Are you entering?” Thea whispered after a few seconds.

“Of course. I have nothing to lose.”

And you do.

But the words remained unspoken. After a few hours, Thea and Violet packed up their stuff and walked back home in silence. Exhaustion weighed heavily on Thea, but her mind was racing too fast to think about it. Violet let her think, but Thea knew she was there if she needed her.

When they reached Violet’s house, Violet hugged Thea despite her protest. “No matter what you decide, I’ll support you. But don’t be reckless.”

“I’m always reckless.”

“Not when it counts.”

Thea felt her heart tighten. But she didn’t let it peak through her smiling mask.

 The moment Thea walked in, Jack was thrust into her hands. The boy instantly began playing with her hair with his sticky fingers. She would have been upset except the little devil blinked up her with his dark eyes.

“I’ve got to run to work,” her father, Liam Silver, said after handing over her brother. He hadn’t bothered to brush his hair, and his clothes didn’t match. He looked how Thea felt, except more well rested. “Meet me there soon. We have to a lot of work to do today.”

Jack squealed and pulled on Thea’s hair. She sighed with resignation. “I need some time to get ready. Unless your goal was for both of us look like we crawled out from under a rock?”

Her father was already out the door.

Thea ground her teeth and resisted clenching her fists. Jack wouldn’t appreciate it.

Her mood wasn’t improved by the appearance of her grandmother. The old bag of bones clearly felt the same way, for she sneered at the sight of Thea. She always reminded Thea of some kind of reptile, slinking and hissing with venomous intent.

“Stop bringing filth into this house,” Georgia said. Thea knew she wasn’t talking about the dirt on the floor.

“Stop slowly dying on the carpet and get it over with.”

“You ungrateful-,” whatever she was about to say was forgotten when she remembered Jack was in the room. Thea was a little disappointed. She was curious what creative and inspiring insult her grandmother had thought of.

“Love you too, Grandmama.”

“Liam?” Isabelle called, creeping past Georgia. It took Thea a few seconds to recognize her. Her blonde hair had recently been cut and dyed black for a reason she wouldn’t say. Thea thought it was because it made her look fiercer. She couldn’t really blame Isabelle for it, considering being five feet tall did not make an intimidating police officer.

After walking in on Georgia and Thea’s stare down, Isabelle sighed. Her expression was the one that she arrested criminals with. “Thea, stop being a smartass and feed Jack. Your form is on the table. Georgia, either go to your room or start making breakfast.”

Georgia chose the coward’s way and made her way to her room. Isabelle muttered, “Then it’s up to me to cook.”

Thea dramatically groaned. “I’d rather eat a rock from the backyard. It’d be more editable.”

“So you’d rather cook?”

“Burnt toast, please.”

Isabelle shook her head, clearly wishing Thea had indeed agreed. But they made their way to the kitchen.

“Did your father leave?” Isabelle asked.

“Yup. Told me I had to hurry to the store.” Thea found the form among the stack of papers. It was the most official statement their family had ever received. And Jack had already spilled food on it. He was like a destructive force of nature. Nothing would be spared.

“Are you considering it?” Isabelle asked. Her voice was neutral, but Thea could hear the undercurrent of interest.

“What if I was?”

Isabelle didn’t respond right away. Thea focused on taking care of Jack. It wasn’t until Jack had been fed, changed, and was quietly playing with his toys that Isabelle joined Thea on the couch. “I’m sure you’ve already considered the dangers.”

“Just a little.” For two weeks straight . . .

“Do you even want it? Him? The crown?”

“No,” Thea responded quickly, as she always did. But then she thought about it. “Maybe. I want to get out of here. More than anything.”

Isabelle took Thea’s hand. “Alright, then you’ll get out. If you’re chosen, then you’ll be a Three, you’ll get out of St. George, and you’ll go to the palace. You’ll be free of here. 

“But what about after that, Thea? When the media starts poking around? And you’ll be competing to be queen. You’ll meet the prince. You might fall in love. It’s not just the freedom. It’s everything. It’s responsibility.”

Trust Isabelle to lay it on thick. Thea asked, “What’s it like to be a Two?”

There was no one else she could ask that question. There were very few high numbers in their city, and none that Thea was closer to than Isabelle. Although it was unlikely Isabelle would ever give up her caste to marry Liam, she was more Thea’s family than Georgia. 

And certainly Thea never planned to be anything more than a four.

“More respect,” Isabelle replied. Thea understood.

“If I did go, you’d take care of Jack?”

“Me and Georgia. And Liam when he’s not too busy.”

“Oh, I feel so much better.”

Isabelle slung an arm over her shoulders and ruffled her already messy hair. “Yes, Thea. We will take care of Jack.”

Thea nodded and went to the table where the filthy form was. “I want it.”

Isabelle chuckled behind her. “Then do it. But if you do, it will be dangerous. You’re safe here. You won’t be there.”

Isabelle kissed the back of her head and finished making breakfast.

Thea stared down at the form and remembered that day on the lake.

When she had been six-years-old, she had been exploring and had seen something. After all these years, she still had no idea what it had been, probably a bird or squirrel. But it had fascinated her six-year-old-self, who had promptly chased after it.

And her entire world had become a single sound. A crack that shook the earth. Thea had wondered out onto a lake and had taken one wrong step. The ice beneath her feet had cracked and webbed, splitting the air. The ground had lurched beneath her, and Thea would never forget those precious seconds afterward where everything had stood still. The wind and cold vanished. Time became a distant thing. No animals could be heard over the thundering of her heart.

And Thea had been tempted. Even at such a tender age, she had felt the need to go further. The distant shore had gleamed like a jewel, calling to her like a siren. Faced between possible death or not knowing, Thea had nearly chosen the latter.

But she had turned away and managed to crawl her way back to safety.

Thea hadn’t ventured out on that lake since. For she knew, just as she knew that the sun would rise and the world would spin, that if it happened again, she wouldn’t have the strength to turn away a second time.

“Keep moving forward. Never slow down. Never stop. Never look back.”

Thea felt that same way staring at the form. Laid out before her in neat cursive were those same cracks in the ice. With just a bit of pressure, they would shatter, and Thea would find herself drowning in a ruthless sea.

She signed the form:

Thea Philippa Silver.

[healthylifepage]

AUSTRALIA pt 2: MY ‘SYDNEY TOP 10’

Across the world, countless bloggers have majored on Australia as a destination; there’s also a ceaseless stream of toned and fashionable Australians who dominate a casual perusal of the Instagram ‘Explore’ screen as if the algorithm is calibrated to go overweight Aussie beauty! My experiences, however, are just that; my own, not ‘new’, but just from me. That said, I sure as hell did my research before arriving in Sydney, systematically surveying every single Australian I know, then distilling their collective output into a one-week, extensive plan of attack! Indeed, having done-and-dusted with my experience in the Great Barrier Reef, pursued my full Sydney scheme precisely as it was sketched out, it gives me great joy to recount and depict the choicest of experiences here to you dear reader, whether you’re just curious or are planning an adventurous ‘Active Escape’ of your own! This post makes up Part 2 of the Australia series – and I sense there will be countless more parts to follow upon my future return to that magnificent country! I discovered an outdoor-dwelling society, predisposed to health and fitness, blessed with supreme weather and a fresh fish-based diet, in a culturally diverse and well-invested city where inhabitants genuinely smile. In fact it’s so good, this could conceivably be ‘home’ one day! Click MORE to discover my Top 10 experiences in Sydney…

POWER-WALKING THROUGH THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDEN…

Just south of the iconic Circular Quay, and with an unconstrained view of the key landmarks from Mrs. Macquarie’s Point, a walk through the lush and fertile exotic gardens both lifts the sense and culminates with as good a view from the Rocks as you’ll get of the Harbour. For a clear empty run of it, going early in the day seems to be the trick to avoid tour-bus overload, but if you do go around lunchtime, you’ll see dozens of Sydney-siders running sprint circuits up and down Mrs. Macquarie’s Stairs!

2. HIKING FROM COOGEE TO BONDI…

Not for the faint of heart, and requiring somewhat of a comfortable pair of shoes, THIS is an 8.1km hike, lasting around 100 minutes. The wind howls on this part of the rugged coastline, the waves are treacherous, but the views are breathtaking and really quite awe-inspiring. Whether you just want to take in the coastline, breathe the air, bask in the sunshine, or admire the ocean-view properties, it is a superb walk. The path takes you through the lush and verdant Gordon’s Bay, the tranquil and striking Waverley Cemetery in which thousands of souls proudly look eternally out to sea, the Hunter Sculpture park, Bronte Bay (a surfer’s mecca), ending up on the iconic Bondi Beach.

3. OBSERVING ICEBERGS…

An iconic saltwater swimming pool, supplied and replenished by the crashing waves below; positioned at the commencement of the sweeping Bondi crescent, Icebergs is somewhat of a must, and is the natural conclusion of your Coogee-to-Bondi excursion, welcoming you as a refreshing iceberg after the desert hike! Note, it’s empty Thursday mornings for cleaning, so avoid it then (d’oh!). If you want some other epic places to swim, try North Sydney Pool (under the north side of the Bridge), or Andrew Boy Charlton pool on the far side of the Royal Botanic Gardens.

4. DINNER AROUND BONDI BEACH…

…wandering the length of the crescent, I stumbled upon an understated beachfront joint called Sean’s Panorama, which I later discovered is somewhat of a hard-to-book legendary institution. We happened upon an early table outside for sunset, bathed in the enrobing crepuscular light, and whiled the evening away with delicious fresh Australian fish dishes, typifying the relaxed approach to life, serving what’s caught on the day, per the Chef’s whim. At the other end of the spectrum, the 6 am Bondi Rush is something to behold, as the locals walk dogs, swim before work, and generally recouple with their beloved outdoors lifestyle before the day begins. Learning to surf is somewhat of a tourism box-ticker here, so if you haven’t, why not…

5. VISITING THE OPERA HOUSE…

…But not just seeing it, actually going to a performance in the cavernous Sydney Opera House ‘Concert Hall’. Same day concessionaires tickets were literally 20 GBP per head for central stalls seats, to see the country’s most distinguished orchestra (Sydney Symphony) present their rendition of Bartok’s Bluebeard’s Castle. Which was unusual, but utterly stunning, and a sonic treat to hear this remarkable sound-stage turned up to full texture and max volume! It struck me how much of a difference there was between the building from a distance (stunning), and the building up close (just like The Barbican in EC2, all brutalist and concrete). There’s a pretty stunning bar under the facility, with a terrace that looks directly at the Bridge, and is a sublime choice for a sunset tipple. Just beware of the confident seagulls!

6. CLIMBING THE BRIDGE…

Something I didn’t do. Why? The prohibitive cost of the activity, and the prohibition of any photographic media or even mobile phones! It’s basically as expensive to climb as it is to fly over in a private helicopter, which doesn’t sound right to me! So instead of climbing it, I took a lunch or two directly beneath it at the exquisite Park Hyatt, and snapped this shot of some chaps at the summit!

7. TAKE THE FERRY TO MANLY BAY…

Leaving from Circular Quay, almost regardless of the destination, this is one of the best ways to see the headline sights of Sydney, per the below images

8. GO ON SAFARI…

… well perhaps not quite, but Taronga Zoo is hands down the best zoo I’ve ever visited. There are many who are conflicted about the concept of animals in captivity, including myself; what I saw at this zoo was the greatest effort being made to provide an environment as close to the natural one as possible. There were exceptions, of course, some of which I struggle with, but as an admirer of nature, I was thrilled and exhilarated to see such a broad repertoire of incredible creatures, up so close. There are a significant number of photos included below to show you just how personal the encounters are with some of the most majestic beasts.

9. SEEK OUT COFFEE…

I love the stuff. Every Australian worth their salt loves the stuff. This place would seem to be the source of the hipster coffee shop invasion which took over London around 2-3 years ago, chief amongst them being Taylor Street Baristas. I tried around 10 of the most recommended coffee shops in Sydney, and through a totally unscientific, unmethodical approach involving randomness and amateur tasting notes, I have crowned a winner; Motown Coffee, details HERE.

10. SAMPLE LUNCHES…

Two iconic venues I discovered:

Catalina – Rose Bay. (http://catalinarosebay.com.au ) Sublime fresh food, and pure theatre inside. Clean white lines and a vast glass panorama revealing the sea-plane landing strip before you in the bay (the restaurant takes its name from the class of iconic seaplane https://www.catalina.org.uk), guests are just fabulously clad, wearing extravagant and exquisite dresses even for a light brunch. Unaware of this, I wasn’t! The food itself, however, is presented in no less spectacular a fashion, with a dedication to the symmetrical and ordered. The entire place feels extremely clean and fresh, with a light, vaguely hedonistic vibe pervading the volumes, never straying into the ostentatious. This is a slam-dunk great ‘occasion’ lunch for a trip to Sydney!

Otto Ristorante. (https://ottoristorante.com.au/sydney/) Just on Cowper Wharf in Woolloomooloo, and from the fringes of the CBD, this is the best place at which to recover strength after a stroll around the Botanical Gardens. Delivering fresh Italian inspired Australian fare, the Humpty Doo baby barramundi with lemon and evoo was a particular hit for me!

Other venues repeatedly recommended to me:

Eastern Suburbs: Lox, Stock and Barrell (Bondi Beach), Bondi Tratoria, Trio (Bondi Beach), Speedo Cafe (Bondi Beach), Brown Sugar (Bondi Beach), Three Blue Ducks (Bronte), Bake Bar (Randwick).

Inner City: Kepos St Kitchen (Alexandria),  The Gorunds (Alexandria), Aqua Dining (above North Sydney Pool),

North Shore: Thelma and Louise (Neutral Bay), Burnt Orange (Mosman), The Boathouse Balmoral Beach, The Boathouse Shelley Beach (Manly), The Boathouse Palm Beach.

That’s my list! Now, I bid you, do go and explore this fabulous, versatile playground!!!

Faya x

The post AUSTRALIA pt 2: MY ‘SYDNEY TOP 10’ appeared first on Fitness on Toast.

AUSTRALIA pt 2: MY ‘SYDNEY TOP 10’ posted first on yummylooksbest.blogspot.com

[yolandadsims]

AUSTRALIA pt 2: MY ‘SYDNEY TOP 10’

Across the world, countless bloggers have majored on Australia as a destination; there’s also a ceaseless stream of toned and fashionable Australians who dominate a casual perusal of the Instagram ‘Explore’ screen as if the algorithm is calibrated to go overweight Aussie beauty! My experiences, however, are just that; my own, not ‘new’, but just from me. That said, I sure as hell did my research before arriving in Sydney, systematically surveying every single Australian I know, then distilling their collective output into a one-week, extensive plan of attack! Indeed, having done-and-dusted with my experience in the Great Barrier Reef, pursued my full Sydney scheme precisely as it was sketched out, it gives me great joy to recount and depict the choicest of experiences here to you dear reader, whether you’re just curious or are planning an adventurous ‘Active Escape’ of your own! This post makes up Part 2 of the Australia series – and I sense there will be countless more parts to follow upon my future return to that magnificent country! I discovered an outdoor-dwelling society, predisposed to health and fitness, blessed with supreme weather and a fresh fish-based diet, in a culturally diverse and well-invested city where inhabitants genuinely smile. In fact it’s so good, this could conceivably be ‘home’ one day! Click MORE to discover my Top 10 experiences in Sydney…

POWER-WALKING THROUGH THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDEN…

Just south of the iconic Circular Quay, and with an unconstrained view of the key landmarks from Mrs. Macquarie’s Point, a walk through the lush and fertile exotic gardens both lifts the sense and culminates with as good a view from the Rocks as you’ll get of the Harbour. For a clear empty run of it, going early in the day seems to be the trick to avoid tour-bus overload, but if you do go around lunchtime, you’ll see dozens of Sydney-siders running sprint circuits up and down Mrs. Macquarie’s Stairs!

2. HIKING FROM COOGEE TO BONDI…

Not for the faint of heart, and requiring somewhat of a comfortable pair of shoes, THIS is an 8.1km hike, lasting around 100 minutes. The wind howls on this part of the rugged coastline, the waves are treacherous, but the views are breathtaking and really quite awe-inspiring. Whether you just want to take in the coastline, breathe the air, bask in the sunshine, or admire the ocean-view properties, it is a superb walk. The path takes you through the lush and verdant Gordon’s Bay, the tranquil and striking Waverley Cemetery in which thousands of souls proudly look eternally out to sea, the Hunter Sculpture park, Bronte Bay (a surfer’s mecca), ending up on the iconic Bondi Beach.

3. OBSERVING ICEBERGS…

An iconic saltwater swimming pool, supplied and replenished by the crashing waves below; positioned at the commencement of the sweeping Bondi crescent, Icebergs is somewhat of a must, and is the natural conclusion of your Coogee-to-Bondi excursion, welcoming you as a refreshing iceberg after the desert hike! Note, it’s empty Thursday mornings for cleaning, so avoid it then (d’oh!). If you want some other epic places to swim, try North Sydney Pool (under the north side of the Bridge), or Andrew Boy Charlton pool on the far side of the Royal Botanic Gardens.

4. DINNER AROUND BONDI BEACH…

…wandering the length of the crescent, I stumbled upon an understated beachfront joint called Sean’s Panorama, which I later discovered is somewhat of a hard-to-book legendary institution. We happened upon an early table outside for sunset, bathed in the enrobing crepuscular light, and whiled the evening away with delicious fresh Australian fish dishes, typifying the relaxed approach to life, serving what’s caught on the day, per the Chef’s whim. At the other end of the spectrum, the 6 am Bondi Rush is something to behold, as the locals walk dogs, swim before work, and generally recouple with their beloved outdoors lifestyle before the day begins. Learning to surf is somewhat of a tourism box-ticker here, so if you haven’t, why not…

5. VISITING THE OPERA HOUSE…

…But not just seeing it, actually going to a performance in the cavernous Sydney Opera House ‘Concert Hall’. Same day concessionaires tickets were literally 20 GBP per head for central stalls seats, to see the country’s most distinguished orchestra (Sydney Symphony) present their rendition of Bartok’s Bluebeard’s Castle. Which was unusual, but utterly stunning, and a sonic treat to hear this remarkable sound-stage turned up to full texture and max volume! It struck me how much of a difference there was between the building from a distance (stunning), and the building up close (just like The Barbican in EC2, all brutalist and concrete). There’s a pretty stunning bar under the facility, with a terrace that looks directly at the Bridge, and is a sublime choice for a sunset tipple. Just beware of the confident seagulls!

6. CLIMBING THE BRIDGE…

Something I didn’t do. Why? The prohibitive cost of the activity, and the prohibition of any photographic media or even mobile phones! It’s basically as expensive to climb as it is to fly over in a private helicopter, which doesn’t sound right to me! So instead of climbing it, I took a lunch or two directly beneath it at the exquisite Park Hyatt, and snapped this shot of some chaps at the summit!

7. TAKE THE FERRY TO MANLY BAY…

Leaving from Circular Quay, almost regardless of the destination, this is one of the best ways to see the headline sights of Sydney, per the below images

8. GO ON SAFARI…

… well perhaps not quite, but Taronga Zoo is hands down the best zoo I’ve ever visited. There are many who are conflicted about the concept of animals in captivity, including myself; what I saw at this zoo was the greatest effort being made to provide an environment as close to the natural one as possible. There were exceptions, of course, some of which I struggle with, but as an admirer of nature, I was thrilled and exhilarated to see such a broad repertoire of incredible creatures, up so close. There are a significant number of photos included below to show you just how personal the encounters are with some of the most majestic beasts.

9. SEEK OUT COFFEE…

I love the stuff. Every Australian worth their salt loves the stuff. This place would seem to be the source of the hipster coffee shop invasion which took over London around 2-3 years ago, chief amongst them being Taylor Street Baristas. I tried around 10 of the most recommended coffee shops in Sydney, and through a totally unscientific, unmethodical approach involving randomness and amateur tasting notes, I have crowned a winner; Motown Coffee, details HERE.

10. SAMPLE LUNCHES…

Two iconic venues I discovered:

Catalina – Rose Bay. (http://catalinarosebay.com.au ) Sublime fresh food, and pure theatre inside. Clean white lines and a vast glass panorama revealing the sea-plane landing strip before you in the bay (the restaurant takes its name from the class of iconic seaplane https://www.catalina.org.uk), guests are just fabulously clad, wearing extravagant and exquisite dresses even for a light brunch. Unaware of this, I wasn’t! The food itself, however, is presented in no less spectacular a fashion, with a dedication to the symmetrical and ordered. The entire place feels extremely clean and fresh, with a light, vaguely hedonistic vibe pervading the volumes, never straying into the ostentatious. This is a slam-dunk great ‘occasion’ lunch for a trip to Sydney!

Otto Ristorante. (https://ottoristorante.com.au/sydney/) Just on Cowper Wharf in Woolloomooloo, and from the fringes of the CBD, this is the best place at which to recover strength after a stroll around the Botanical Gardens. Delivering fresh Italian inspired Australian fare, the Humpty Doo baby barramundi with lemon and evoo was a particular hit for me!

Other venues repeatedly recommended to me:

Eastern Suburbs: Lox, Stock and Barrell (Bondi Beach), Bondi Tratoria, Trio (Bondi Beach), Speedo Cafe (Bondi Beach), Brown Sugar (Bondi Beach), Three Blue Ducks (Bronte), Bake Bar (Randwick).

Inner City: Kepos St Kitchen (Alexandria),  The Gorunds (Alexandria), Aqua Dining (above North Sydney Pool),

North Shore: Thelma and Louise (Neutral Bay), Burnt Orange (Mosman), The Boathouse Balmoral Beach, The Boathouse Shelley Beach (Manly), The Boathouse Palm Beach.

That’s my list! Now, I bid you, do go and explore this fabulous, versatile playground!!!

Faya x

The post AUSTRALIA pt 2: MY ‘SYDNEY TOP 10’ appeared first on Fitness on Toast.

from Health And Fitness Updates http://fitnessontoast.com/2018/01/22/australia-pt-2-sydney-top-10/

[muscledemandsrespect]

AUSTRALIA pt 2: MY ‘SYDNEY TOP 10’

Across the world, countless bloggers have majored on Australia as a destination; there’s also a ceaseless stream of toned and fashionable Australians who dominate a casual perusal of the Instagram ‘Explore’ screen as if the algorithm is calibrated to go overweight Aussie beauty! My experiences, however, are just that; my own, not ‘new’, but just from me. That said, I sure as hell did my research before arriving in Sydney, systematically surveying every single Australian I know, then distilling their collective output into a one-week, extensive plan of attack! Indeed, having done-and-dusted with my experience in the Great Barrier Reef, pursued my full Sydney scheme precisely as it was sketched out, it gives me great joy to recount and depict the choicest of experiences here to you dear reader, whether you’re just curious or are planning an adventurous ‘Active Escape’ of your own! This post makes up Part 2 of the Australia series – and I sense there will be countless more parts to follow upon my future return to that magnificent country! I discovered an outdoor-dwelling society, predisposed to health and fitness, blessed with supreme weather and a fresh fish-based diet, in a culturally diverse and well-invested city where inhabitants genuinely smile. In fact it’s so good, this could conceivably be ‘home’ one day! Click MORE to discover my Top 10 experiences in Sydney…

POWER-WALKING THROUGH THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDEN…

Just south of the iconic Circular Quay, and with an unconstrained view of the key landmarks from Mrs. Macquarie’s Point, a walk through the lush and fertile exotic gardens both lifts the sense and culminates with as good a view from the Rocks as you’ll get of the Harbour. For a clear empty run of it, going early in the day seems to be the trick to avoid tour-bus overload, but if you do go around lunchtime, you’ll see dozens of Sydney-siders running sprint circuits up and down Mrs. Macquarie’s Stairs!

2. HIKING FROM COOGEE TO BONDI…

Not for the faint of heart, and requiring somewhat of a comfortable pair of shoes, THIS is an 8.1km hike, lasting around 100 minutes. The wind howls on this part of the rugged coastline, the waves are treacherous, but the views are breathtaking and really quite awe-inspiring. Whether you just want to take in the coastline, breathe the air, bask in the sunshine, or admire the ocean-view properties, it is a superb walk. The path takes you through the lush and verdant Gordon’s Bay, the tranquil and striking Waverley Cemetery in which thousands of souls proudly look eternally out to sea, the Hunter Sculpture park, Bronte Bay (a surfer’s mecca), ending up on the iconic Bondi Beach.

3. OBSERVING ICEBERGS…

An iconic saltwater swimming pool, supplied and replenished by the crashing waves below; positioned at the commencement of the sweeping Bondi crescent, Icebergs is somewhat of a must, and is the natural conclusion of your Coogee-to-Bondi excursion, welcoming you as a refreshing iceberg after the desert hike! Note, it’s empty Thursday mornings for cleaning, so avoid it then (d’oh!). If you want some other epic places to swim, try North Sydney Pool (under the north side of the Bridge), or Andrew Boy Charlton pool on the far side of the Royal Botanic Gardens.

4. DINNER AROUND BONDI BEACH…

…wandering the length of the crescent, I stumbled upon an understated beachfront joint called Sean’s Panorama, which I later discovered is somewhat of a hard-to-book legendary institution. We happened upon an early table outside for sunset, bathed in the enrobing crepuscular light, and whiled the evening away with delicious fresh Australian fish dishes, typifying the relaxed approach to life, serving what’s caught on the day, per the Chef’s whim. At the other end of the spectrum, the 6 am Bondi Rush is something to behold, as the locals walk dogs, swim before work, and generally recouple with their beloved outdoors lifestyle before the day begins. Learning to surf is somewhat of a tourism box-ticker here, so if you haven’t, why not…

5. VISITING THE OPERA HOUSE…

…But not just seeing it, actually going to a performance in the cavernous Sydney Opera House ‘Concert Hall’. Same day concessionaires tickets were literally 20 GBP per head for central stalls seats, to see the country’s most distinguished orchestra (Sydney Symphony) present their rendition of Bartok’s Bluebeard’s Castle. Which was unusual, but utterly stunning, and a sonic treat to hear this remarkable sound-stage turned up to full texture and max volume! It struck me how much of a difference there was between the building from a distance (stunning), and the building up close (just like The Barbican in EC2, all brutalist and concrete). There’s a pretty stunning bar under the facility, with a terrace that looks directly at the Bridge, and is a sublime choice for a sunset tipple. Just beware of the confident seagulls!

6. CLIMBING THE BRIDGE…

Something I didn’t do. Why? The prohibitive cost of the activity, and the prohibition of any photographic media or even mobile phones! It’s basically as expensive to climb as it is to fly over in a private helicopter, which doesn’t sound right to me! So instead of climbing it, I took a lunch or two directly beneath it at the exquisite Park Hyatt, and snapped this shot of some chaps at the summit!

7. TAKE THE FERRY TO MANLY BAY…

Leaving from Circular Quay, almost regardless of the destination, this is one of the best ways to see the headline sights of Sydney, per the below images

8. GO ON SAFARI…

… well perhaps not quite, but Taronga Zoo is hands down the best zoo I’ve ever visited. There are many who are conflicted about the concept of animals in captivity, including myself; what I saw at this zoo was the greatest effort being made to provide an environment as close to the natural one as possible. There were exceptions, of course, some of which I struggle with, but as an admirer of nature, I was thrilled and exhilarated to see such a broad repertoire of incredible creatures, up so close. There are a significant number of photos included below to show you just how personal the encounters are with some of the most majestic beasts.

9. SEEK OUT COFFEE…

I love the stuff. Every Australian worth their salt loves the stuff. This place would seem to be the source of the hipster coffee shop invasion which took over London around 2-3 years ago, chief amongst them being Taylor Street Baristas. I tried around 10 of the most recommended coffee shops in Sydney, and through a totally unscientific, unmethodical approach involving randomness and amateur tasting notes, I have crowned a winner; Motown Coffee, details HERE.

10. SAMPLE LUNCHES…

Two iconic venues I discovered:

Catalina – Rose Bay. (http://catalinarosebay.com.au ) Sublime fresh food, and pure theatre inside. Clean white lines and a vast glass panorama revealing the sea-plane landing strip before you in the bay (the restaurant takes its name from the class of iconic seaplane https://www.catalina.org.uk), guests are just fabulously clad, wearing extravagant and exquisite dresses even for a light brunch. Unaware of this, I wasn’t! The food itself, however, is presented in no less spectacular a fashion, with a dedication to the symmetrical and ordered. The entire place feels extremely clean and fresh, with a light, vaguely hedonistic vibe pervading the volumes, never straying into the ostentatious. This is a slam-dunk great ‘occasion’ lunch for a trip to Sydney!

Otto Ristorante. (https://ottoristorante.com.au/sydney/) Just on Cowper Wharf in Woolloomooloo, and from the fringes of the CBD, this is the best place at which to recover strength after a stroll around the Botanical Gardens. Delivering fresh Italian inspired Australian fare, the Humpty Doo baby barramundi with lemon and evoo was a particular hit for me!

Other venues repeatedly recommended to me:

Eastern Suburbs: Lox, Stock and Barrell (Bondi Beach), Bondi Tratoria, Trio (Bondi Beach), Speedo Cafe (Bondi Beach), Brown Sugar (Bondi Beach), Three Blue Ducks (Bronte), Bake Bar (Randwick).

Inner City: Kepos St Kitchen (Alexandria),  The Gorunds (Alexandria), Aqua Dining (above North Sydney Pool),

North Shore: Thelma and Louise (Neutral Bay), Burnt Orange (Mosman), The Boathouse Balmoral Beach, The Boathouse Shelley Beach (Manly), The Boathouse Palm Beach.

That’s my list! Now, I bid you, do go and explore this fabulous, versatile playground!!!

Faya x

The post AUSTRALIA pt 2: MY ‘SYDNEY TOP 10’ appeared first on Fitness on Toast.

from Fitness on Toast http://ift.tt/2F0F5Wp via IFTTT

[rebeccaflaneus]

AUSTRALIA pt 2: MY ‘SYDNEY TOP 10’

Across the world, countless bloggers have majored on Australia as a destination; there’s also a ceaseless stream of toned and fashionable Australians who dominate a casual perusal of the Instagram ‘Explore’ screen as if the algorithm is calibrated to go overweight Aussie beauty! My experiences, however, are just that; my own, not ‘new’, but just from me. That said, I sure as hell did my research before arriving in Sydney, systematically surveying every single Australian I know, then distilling their collective output into a one-week, extensive plan of attack! Indeed, having done-and-dusted with my experience in the Great Barrier Reef, pursued my full Sydney scheme precisely as it was sketched out, it gives me great joy to recount and depict the choicest of experiences here to you dear reader, whether you’re just curious or are planning an adventurous ‘Active Escape’ of your own! This post makes up Part 2 of the Australia series – and I sense there will be countless more parts to follow upon my future return to that magnificent country! I discovered an outdoor-dwelling society, predisposed to health and fitness, blessed with supreme weather and a fresh fish-based diet, in a culturally diverse and well-invested city where inhabitants genuinely smile. In fact it’s so good, this could conceivably be ‘home’ one day! Click MORE to discover my Top 10 experiences in Sydney…

POWER-WALKING THROUGH THE ROYAL BOTANIC GARDEN…

Just south of the iconic Circular Quay, and with an unconstrained view of the key landmarks from Mrs. Macquarie’s Point, a walk through the lush and fertile exotic gardens both lifts the sense and culminates with as good a view from the Rocks as you’ll get of the Harbour. For a clear empty run of it, going early in the day seems to be the trick to avoid tour-bus overload, but if you do go around lunchtime, you’ll see dozens of Sydney-siders running sprint circuits up and down Mrs. Macquarie’s Stairs!

2. HIKING FROM COOGEE TO BONDI…

Not for the faint of heart, and requiring somewhat of a comfortable pair of shoes, THIS is an 8.1km hike, lasting around 100 minutes. The wind howls on this part of the rugged coastline, the waves are treacherous, but the views are breathtaking and really quite awe-inspiring. Whether you just want to take in the coastline, breathe the air, bask in the sunshine, or admire the ocean-view properties, it is a superb walk. The path takes you through the lush and verdant Gordon’s Bay, the tranquil and striking Waverley Cemetery in which thousands of souls proudly look eternally out to sea, the Hunter Sculpture park, Bronte Bay (a surfer’s mecca), ending up on the iconic Bondi Beach.

3. OBSERVING ICEBERGS…

An iconic saltwater swimming pool, supplied and replenished by the crashing waves below; positioned at the commencement of the sweeping Bondi crescent, Icebergs is somewhat of a must, and is the natural conclusion of your Coogee-to-Bondi excursion, welcoming you as a refreshing iceberg after the desert hike! Note, it’s empty Thursday mornings for cleaning, so avoid it then (d’oh!). If you want some other epic places to swim, try North Sydney Pool (under the north side of the Bridge), or Andrew Boy Charlton pool on the far side of the Royal Botanic Gardens.

4. DINNER AROUND BONDI BEACH…

…wandering the length of the crescent, I stumbled upon an understated beachfront joint called Sean’s Panorama, which I later discovered is somewhat of a hard-to-book legendary institution. We happened upon an early table outside for sunset, bathed in the enrobing crepuscular light, and whiled the evening away with delicious fresh Australian fish dishes, typifying the relaxed approach to life, serving what’s caught on the day, per the Chef’s whim. At the other end of the spectrum, the 6 am Bondi Rush is something to behold, as the locals walk dogs, swim before work, and generally recouple with their beloved outdoors lifestyle before the day begins. Learning to surf is somewhat of a tourism box-ticker here, so if you haven’t, why not…

5. VISITING THE OPERA HOUSE…

…But not just seeing it, actually going to a performance in the cavernous Sydney Opera House ‘Concert Hall’. Same day concessionaires tickets were literally 20 GBP per head for central stalls seats, to see the country’s most distinguished orchestra (Sydney Symphony) present their rendition of Bartok’s Bluebeard’s Castle. Which was unusual, but utterly stunning, and a sonic treat to hear this remarkable sound-stage turned up to full texture and max volume! It struck me how much of a difference there was between the building from a distance (stunning), and the building up close (just like The Barbican in EC2, all brutalist and concrete). There’s a pretty stunning bar under the facility, with a terrace that looks directly at the Bridge, and is a sublime choice for a sunset tipple. Just beware of the confident seagulls!

6. CLIMBING THE BRIDGE…

Something I didn’t do. Why? The prohibitive cost of the activity, and the prohibition of any photographic media or even mobile phones! It’s basically as expensive to climb as it is to fly over in a private helicopter, which doesn’t sound right to me! So instead of climbing it, I took a lunch or two directly beneath it at the exquisite Park Hyatt, and snapped this shot of some chaps at the summit!

7. TAKE THE FERRY TO MANLY BAY…

Leaving from Circular Quay, almost regardless of the destination, this is one of the best ways to see the headline sights of Sydney, per the below images

8. GO ON SAFARI…

… well perhaps not quite, but Taronga Zoo is hands down the best zoo I’ve ever visited. There are many who are conflicted about the concept of animals in captivity, including myself; what I saw at this zoo was the greatest effort being made to provide an environment as close to the natural one as possible. There were exceptions, of course, some of which I struggle with, but as an admirer of nature, I was thrilled and exhilarated to see such a broad repertoire of incredible creatures, up so close. There are a significant number of photos included below to show you just how personal the encounters are with some of the most majestic beasts.

9. SEEK OUT COFFEE…

I love the stuff. Every Australian worth their salt loves the stuff. This place would seem to be the source of the hipster coffee shop invasion which took over London around 2-3 years ago, chief amongst them being Taylor Street Baristas. I tried around 10 of the most recommended coffee shops in Sydney, and through a totally unscientific, unmethodical approach involving randomness and amateur tasting notes, I have crowned a winner; Motown Coffee, details HERE.

10. SAMPLE LUNCHES…

Two iconic venues I discovered:

Catalina – Rose Bay. (http://catalinarosebay.com.au ) Sublime fresh food, and pure theatre inside. Clean white lines and a vast glass panorama revealing the sea-plane landing strip before you in the bay (the restaurant takes its name from the class of iconic seaplane https://www.catalina.org.uk), guests are just fabulously clad, wearing extravagant and exquisite dresses even for a light brunch. Unaware of this, I wasn’t! The food itself, however, is presented in no less spectacular a fashion, with a dedication to the symmetrical and ordered. The entire place feels extremely clean and fresh, with a light, vaguely hedonistic vibe pervading the volumes, never straying into the ostentatious. This is a slam-dunk great ‘occasion’ lunch for a trip to Sydney!

Otto Ristorante. (https://ottoristorante.com.au/sydney/) Just on Cowper Wharf in Woolloomooloo, and from the fringes of the CBD, this is the best place at which to recover strength after a stroll around the Botanical Gardens. Delivering fresh Italian inspired Australian fare, the Humpty Doo baby barramundi with lemon and evoo was a particular hit for me!

Other venues repeatedly recommended to me:

Eastern Suburbs: Lox, Stock and Barrell (Bondi Beach), Bondi Tratoria, Trio (Bondi Beach), Speedo Cafe (Bondi Beach), Brown Sugar (Bondi Beach), Three Blue Ducks (Bronte), Bake Bar (Randwick).

Inner City: Kepos St Kitchen (Alexandria),  The Gorunds (Alexandria), Aqua Dining (above North Sydney Pool),

North Shore: Thelma and Louise (Neutral Bay), Burnt Orange (Mosman), The Boathouse Balmoral Beach, The Boathouse Shelley Beach (Manly), The Boathouse Palm Beach.

That’s my list! Now, I bid you, do go and explore this fabulous, versatile playground!!!

Faya x

The post AUSTRALIA pt 2: MY ‘SYDNEY TOP 10’ appeared first on Fitness on Toast.

from Donald Fitness Tips http://fitnessontoast.com/2018/01/22/australia-pt-2-sydney-top-10/

[samanthasroberts]

18 Norwegian foods you’ve probably never heard of

(CNN)“We have products, history here that you don’t find anywhere else in the world,” says Esben Holmboe Bang, the Danish head chef of Oslo’s three-Michelin-starred restaurant Maaemo.

“For me it was mind-blowing. I saw the way they preserved fish, meat and I just thought I’ve never seen this before.”

Norway’s distinctive cuisine has been shaped by its 100,000-kilometer coastline, by its long winters and brief summers, by the forests that cover a third of its surface, and by the mountains that cut west off from east.

Here are 18 of Norway’s greatest — and strangest — specialties.

MORE: Norway becomes first country to ban deforestation

1. Smalahove

“You have to try it once in your life. This is amazing thing,” says Eirik Braek, owner of Oslo deli Fenaknoken, holding up a whole sheep’s head.

Fenaknoken is an Aladdin’s cave of cured, dried and salted delicacies, with hams strung from the ceiling like chandeliers, and Braek is a charming and enthusiastic host, giving all visitors to his shop a tasting tour of Norwegian food history.

Smalahove — literally sheep’s head — is a Christmas treat in Western Norway.

“You start with the eyes,” says Braek, because the fatty areas taste better warm. “This one you have to serve hot.”

2. Great Scallop

JUST WATCHED

Part 2: In search of the Great Scallop

Replay

More Videos …

MUST WATCH

“The sea is something we live off now and it’s something that we lived on for centuries,” says Holmboe Bang. “There’s a strong belonging to the sea.”

The cold waters mean seafood takes longer to grow, making the flesh is extra plump and tender.

In the Norway episode of “Culinary Journeys,” Holmboe Bang and Maaemo’s diver Roderick Sloan feast on “salty, intensely sweet” Great Scallops, served in their shell with reindeer moss and juniper.

People love fish so much, says Braek, that they’ll drink Omega 3 at Christmas to line their stomachs pre-revelry: “Just a small scoop. You can have more alcohol, maybe.”

MORE: Culinary theater at the world’s most northerly Michelin-starred restaurant

3. Mahogany clam

The world’s oldest animal ever is said to be a sprightly little bivalve mollusk by the name of Ming, who was dredged off the coast of Iceland in 2006 and estimated to be 507 years old.

The ones found off Norway’s northern coast will usually have been chilling in the Arctic depths for 150 to 200 years.

Says Roderick Sloan: “My job is like going to the moon every day.

“When I’m on the bottom, I only have two sounds: the sound of my heart and the sound of my breath.”

4. Dried everything

“In Norway we dry everything, because we have to,” says Braek. “We did this to survive in the future. We salted and dried things.”

Holmboe Bang agrees.

Fermenting, pickling, salting, curing, smoking: “It’s all about trying to prolong summer, it’s about making the taste of summer last.

“We’ve developed these intensely special, completely different flavor profile than the produce has in the summer, but that’s for us the taste of winter.”

“People did this for thousands of years,” he adds.

“When you think about the way people had to survive, you had to preserve your fish, you had to think ‘I have to stock up my larder for the winter, otherwise me and my family are going to die’… We don’t have that mentality any more.

“I feel like now we live in a society where everything is available all the time, and that’s a blessing and a curse.”

5. Klippfisk

JUST WATCHED

Part 3: A celebration of Nordic hospitality

Replay

More Videos …

MUST WATCH

Klippfisk — literally “cliff fish” — is dried and salted cod, in a tradition dating back to the 17th century.

In the “Culinary Journeys” video above, Holmboe Bang is schooled in the method by Nordskot expert Erling Heckneby.

6. Cod tongues

The season for fresh fish is January to April, says Braek.

Skrei — or cod — is one of Norway’s greatest exports but one specialty that hasn’t been such a hit abroad is cod tongue.

The cut is less the actual tongue than the underside of the cod chin, should you find “cod chin” sounds more appealing.

The best way to wrap your lips round some cod tongue is to toss them in seasoned flour and fry them in butter.

7. Gamalost

Gamalost means “old cheese” — and this is one that was actually eaten by Vikings.

It’s a hard, crumbly brownish-yellow cheese with a sharp, intense flavor and a pungent scent to match.

“Some people love it, some people hate it,” says Braek.

Those who really love it can join the annual Gamalost Festival held in Vik in May.

“This cheese we can keep forever. This never gets old,” adds Braek, explaining that it was a Norwegian staple in the days before refrigeration.

Production is very labor-intensive, so it’s rare to find gamalost for sale outside Norway.

MORE: Best country in the world to live? Still Norway, according to the U.N.

8. Brunost

Much easier to find than gamalost, brunost is the sweet-savory brown cheese that delights Norwegians and surprises foreigners.

It’s a goat’s cheese made from caramelized whey — giving it a sharp, sweet-sour dulce de leche taste — and its fat and sugar content is such that a truck of the stuff burnt for five days when it caught fire in a Norwegian tunnel in 2013.

Norwegians eat it on toast, with crispbread, with jam and at breakfast — though any meal will do.

A classic combo is sliced brunost on top of one of Norway’s sweetly heart-shaped waffles. They’re softer and more pliable than the Belgian variety, making them easier to fold in the hand.

At Christmas they’re eaten on toasted buttered julecake — a festive cake flavored with cardamom and dotted with fruit and candied peel.

9. Reindeer and elk

Forget the Pepsi Challenge — visitors to Fenaknoken can sample dried elk and dried reindeer side by side.

“Elk is like a dry, more wild taste,” says Braek. Reindeer is a “much smaller animal so it’s much sweeter.”

Reindeer moss — so called because reindeer eat it — is a lichen found in Arctic tundra. “It’s very special to Norway,” explains Sloan. “This is where the reindeer get all their flavor from.”

It’s also sometimes used in the making of akvavit, the famous Scandinavian spirit.

MORE: The Dukha: Last of Mongolia’s reindeer people

10. Farikal

“This is a map of Norway,” explains Braek, holding a vacuum-packed leg of lamb and pointing out the west coast, where cuisine was influenced by the shipping trade and mixing cultures, and the isolated mountain-bound east.

“At Christmas I have about 1.5 tonnes of lamb ribs” hanging from the roof of the shop, he says, a welcome sight for homesick Norwegians returning home for the festive season.

“I have people stand here and cry. ‘I’m home!’”

Pinnejott — “stick meat” — is a festive dish of salted and dried lamb or mutton ribs, typical to the west and north.

The national dish, however is farikal, a lamb and cabbage casserole traditionally eaten in fall.

11. Cloudberries

Norway has a Willy Wonka-esque inventory of evocative berry names: cloudberries, crowberries … but sadly no snozzberries.

The ethereal cloudberry is golden-yellow and only found in the wild. Its rarity earns it the nickname Arctic gold.

They have a tart appleish flavor and are often made into jam. “If you find any, don’t tell anyone where you find them,” says Braek.

Crowberry is a black cold-climate berry found in northern Europe, Alaska, Canada, Greenland and beyond.

12. Lutefisk

If a gelatinous mix of dried fish and lye doesn’t sound appealing, you might not be alone.

When we visited the world’s only Lutefisk Museum, in Norway’s “Christmas town” of Drobok, on a sunny day in May the entire place was empty — a piscine Marie Celeste with no staff, no customers, but one forlorn pile of children’s letters to Santa.

Lutefisk is a festive specialty, made by air-drying fish, reconstituting it by soaking it in cold water for a week, then soaking it in caustic lye soda for two days.

Then, to get rid of the poisonous lye, it’s soaked in water for another couple of days.

It’s not eaten in the summertime, but out of season visitors can console themselves with a light and frothy fiskesuppe (fish soup) in the cherry blossom-shaded courtyard of the Skipperstuen restaurant opposite the Museum and Aquarium, overlooking the Oslofjord.

13. Salty liquorice

Yes, the Norwegians like salting everything so much, they even do it to their candy.

The controversial mouth-puckering treat is wildly popular in the Nordic countries and widely reviled elsewhere.

It’s an acquired taste, but if you like your aniseed strong, and your gustatory receptors tingling in tandem, it might just be the candy for you.

14. Torrfisk

Torrfisk, or stockfish, is unsalted air-dried fish, usually cod.

It’s been “made in Norway for, people say, about 1,000 years,” says Braek.

It’s mentioned in the 13th century Icelandic work “Egil’s Saga,” when a chieftain ships stockfish from Norway to Britain in 875 AD.

As such, it was Norway’s biggest export for centuries.

15. Rakfisk

Rakfisk is salted, fermented trout, and it packs a pungent — and delicious — punch.

It’s usually fermented for two to three months, but it can be up to a year.

It’s often eaten with flatbrod (Norwegian flat bread) or lefse (potato bread), onions and sour cream.

16. King Crab

Like the sound of a King Crab safari?

A number of tour operators offer trips to Kirkenes, on the border with Russia, to hunt the Arctic King Crab between the months of December and April.

The mighty crustaceans can grow to a leg span of 1.8 meters.

17. Seagull eggs

Seagulls are arguably the most thuggish of seabirds, raised — in the UK, at least — on a diet of ketchup, French fries and stolen sandwiches.

But in late April or early May in northern Norway, locals like to eat hard-boiled seagulls’ eggs washed down with a pilsner beer from Tromso’s Mack’s brewery.

We don’t recommend you attempt to harvest any yourself — to protect the species, but also to protect yourself. Those gulls can be pretty handy when it comes to a fight.

18. Whale

Norway is one of only three countries still involved in the controversial practice of whaling, alongside Japan and Iceland.

For those who can stomach it, whale meat — or hvalkjott — is widely available and often marketed at curious tourists.

“I’ve tried whale and reindeer,” says Jen, a Canadian on a one-woman tour of Norway.

“Whale’s really good. I’m from the east coast, so we have a lot of fish but we don’t do whaling.”

As whales are mammals rather than fish, the taste is similar to a gamey meat such as venison.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/05/27/18-norwegian-foods-youve-probably-never-heard-of/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/05/27/18-norwegian-foods-youve-probably-never-heard-of/

[adambstingus]

18 Norwegian foods you’ve probably never heard of

(CNN)“We have products, history here that you don’t find anywhere else in the world,” says Esben Holmboe Bang, the Danish head chef of Oslo’s three-Michelin-starred restaurant Maaemo.

“For me it was mind-blowing. I saw the way they preserved fish, meat and I just thought I’ve never seen this before.”

Norway’s distinctive cuisine has been shaped by its 100,000-kilometer coastline, by its long winters and brief summers, by the forests that cover a third of its surface, and by the mountains that cut west off from east.

Here are 18 of Norway’s greatest — and strangest — specialties.

MORE: Norway becomes first country to ban deforestation

1. Smalahove

“You have to try it once in your life. This is amazing thing,” says Eirik Braek, owner of Oslo deli Fenaknoken, holding up a whole sheep’s head.

Fenaknoken is an Aladdin’s cave of cured, dried and salted delicacies, with hams strung from the ceiling like chandeliers, and Braek is a charming and enthusiastic host, giving all visitors to his shop a tasting tour of Norwegian food history.

Smalahove — literally sheep’s head — is a Christmas treat in Western Norway.

“You start with the eyes,” says Braek, because the fatty areas taste better warm. “This one you have to serve hot.”

2. Great Scallop

JUST WATCHED

Part 2: In search of the Great Scallop

Replay

More Videos …

MUST WATCH

“The sea is something we live off now and it’s something that we lived on for centuries,” says Holmboe Bang. “There’s a strong belonging to the sea.”

The cold waters mean seafood takes longer to grow, making the flesh is extra plump and tender.

In the Norway episode of “Culinary Journeys,” Holmboe Bang and Maaemo’s diver Roderick Sloan feast on “salty, intensely sweet” Great Scallops, served in their shell with reindeer moss and juniper.

People love fish so much, says Braek, that they’ll drink Omega 3 at Christmas to line their stomachs pre-revelry: “Just a small scoop. You can have more alcohol, maybe.”

MORE: Culinary theater at the world’s most northerly Michelin-starred restaurant

3. Mahogany clam

The world’s oldest animal ever is said to be a sprightly little bivalve mollusk by the name of Ming, who was dredged off the coast of Iceland in 2006 and estimated to be 507 years old.

The ones found off Norway’s northern coast will usually have been chilling in the Arctic depths for 150 to 200 years.

Says Roderick Sloan: “My job is like going to the moon every day.

“When I’m on the bottom, I only have two sounds: the sound of my heart and the sound of my breath.”

4. Dried everything

“In Norway we dry everything, because we have to,” says Braek. “We did this to survive in the future. We salted and dried things.”

Holmboe Bang agrees.

Fermenting, pickling, salting, curing, smoking: “It’s all about trying to prolong summer, it’s about making the taste of summer last.

“We’ve developed these intensely special, completely different flavor profile than the produce has in the summer, but that’s for us the taste of winter.”

“People did this for thousands of years,” he adds.

“When you think about the way people had to survive, you had to preserve your fish, you had to think ‘I have to stock up my larder for the winter, otherwise me and my family are going to die’… We don’t have that mentality any more.

“I feel like now we live in a society where everything is available all the time, and that’s a blessing and a curse.”

5. Klippfisk

JUST WATCHED

Part 3: A celebration of Nordic hospitality

Replay

More Videos …

MUST WATCH

Klippfisk — literally “cliff fish” — is dried and salted cod, in a tradition dating back to the 17th century.

In the “Culinary Journeys” video above, Holmboe Bang is schooled in the method by Nordskot expert Erling Heckneby.

6. Cod tongues

The season for fresh fish is January to April, says Braek.

Skrei — or cod — is one of Norway’s greatest exports but one specialty that hasn’t been such a hit abroad is cod tongue.

The cut is less the actual tongue than the underside of the cod chin, should you find “cod chin” sounds more appealing.

The best way to wrap your lips round some cod tongue is to toss them in seasoned flour and fry them in butter.

7. Gamalost

Gamalost means “old cheese” — and this is one that was actually eaten by Vikings.

It’s a hard, crumbly brownish-yellow cheese with a sharp, intense flavor and a pungent scent to match.

“Some people love it, some people hate it,” says Braek.

Those who really love it can join the annual Gamalost Festival held in Vik in May.

“This cheese we can keep forever. This never gets old,” adds Braek, explaining that it was a Norwegian staple in the days before refrigeration.

Production is very labor-intensive, so it’s rare to find gamalost for sale outside Norway.

MORE: Best country in the world to live? Still Norway, according to the U.N.

8. Brunost

Much easier to find than gamalost, brunost is the sweet-savory brown cheese that delights Norwegians and surprises foreigners.

It’s a goat’s cheese made from caramelized whey — giving it a sharp, sweet-sour dulce de leche taste — and its fat and sugar content is such that a truck of the stuff burnt for five days when it caught fire in a Norwegian tunnel in 2013.

Norwegians eat it on toast, with crispbread, with jam and at breakfast — though any meal will do.

A classic combo is sliced brunost on top of one of Norway’s sweetly heart-shaped waffles. They’re softer and more pliable than the Belgian variety, making them easier to fold in the hand.

At Christmas they’re eaten on toasted buttered julecake — a festive cake flavored with cardamom and dotted with fruit and candied peel.

9. Reindeer and elk

Forget the Pepsi Challenge — visitors to Fenaknoken can sample dried elk and dried reindeer side by side.

“Elk is like a dry, more wild taste,” says Braek. Reindeer is a “much smaller animal so it’s much sweeter.”

Reindeer moss — so called because reindeer eat it — is a lichen found in Arctic tundra. “It’s very special to Norway,” explains Sloan. “This is where the reindeer get all their flavor from.”

It’s also sometimes used in the making of akvavit, the famous Scandinavian spirit.

MORE: The Dukha: Last of Mongolia’s reindeer people

10. Farikal

“This is a map of Norway,” explains Braek, holding a vacuum-packed leg of lamb and pointing out the west coast, where cuisine was influenced by the shipping trade and mixing cultures, and the isolated mountain-bound east.

“At Christmas I have about 1.5 tonnes of lamb ribs” hanging from the roof of the shop, he says, a welcome sight for homesick Norwegians returning home for the festive season.

“I have people stand here and cry. ‘I’m home!‘”

Pinnejott — “stick meat” — is a festive dish of salted and dried lamb or mutton ribs, typical to the west and north.

The national dish, however is farikal, a lamb and cabbage casserole traditionally eaten in fall.

11. Cloudberries

Norway has a Willy Wonka-esque inventory of evocative berry names: cloudberries, crowberries … but sadly no snozzberries.

The ethereal cloudberry is golden-yellow and only found in the wild. Its rarity earns it the nickname Arctic gold.

They have a tart appleish flavor and are often made into jam. “If you find any, don’t tell anyone where you find them,” says Braek.

Crowberry is a black cold-climate berry found in northern Europe, Alaska, Canada, Greenland and beyond.

12. Lutefisk

If a gelatinous mix of dried fish and lye doesn’t sound appealing, you might not be alone.

When we visited the world’s only Lutefisk Museum, in Norway’s “Christmas town” of Drobok, on a sunny day in May the entire place was empty — a piscine Marie Celeste with no staff, no customers, but one forlorn pile of children’s letters to Santa.

Lutefisk is a festive specialty, made by air-drying fish, reconstituting it by soaking it in cold water for a week, then soaking it in caustic lye soda for two days.

Then, to get rid of the poisonous lye, it’s soaked in water for another couple of days.

It’s not eaten in the summertime, but out of season visitors can console themselves with a light and frothy fiskesuppe (fish soup) in the cherry blossom-shaded courtyard of the Skipperstuen restaurant opposite the Museum and Aquarium, overlooking the Oslofjord.

13. Salty liquorice

Yes, the Norwegians like salting everything so much, they even do it to their candy.

The controversial mouth-puckering treat is wildly popular in the Nordic countries and widely reviled elsewhere.

It’s an acquired taste, but if you like your aniseed strong, and your gustatory receptors tingling in tandem, it might just be the candy for you.

14. Torrfisk

Torrfisk, or stockfish, is unsalted air-dried fish, usually cod.

It’s been “made in Norway for, people say, about 1,000 years,” says Braek.

It’s mentioned in the 13th century Icelandic work “Egil’s Saga,” when a chieftain ships stockfish from Norway to Britain in 875 AD.

As such, it was Norway’s biggest export for centuries.

15. Rakfisk

Rakfisk is salted, fermented trout, and it packs a pungent — and delicious — punch.

It’s usually fermented for two to three months, but it can be up to a year.

It’s often eaten with flatbrod (Norwegian flat bread) or lefse (potato bread), onions and sour cream.

16. King Crab

Like the sound of a King Crab safari?

A number of tour operators offer trips to Kirkenes, on the border with Russia, to hunt the Arctic King Crab between the months of December and April.

The mighty crustaceans can grow to a leg span of 1.8 meters.

17. Seagull eggs

Seagulls are arguably the most thuggish of seabirds, raised — in the UK, at least — on a diet of ketchup, French fries and stolen sandwiches.

But in late April or early May in northern Norway, locals like to eat hard-boiled seagulls’ eggs washed down with a pilsner beer from Tromso’s Mack’s brewery.

We don’t recommend you attempt to harvest any yourself — to protect the species, but also to protect yourself. Those gulls can be pretty handy when it comes to a fight.

18. Whale

Norway is one of only three countries still involved in the controversial practice of whaling, alongside Japan and Iceland.

For those who can stomach it, whale meat — or hvalkjott — is widely available and often marketed at curious tourists.

“I’ve tried whale and reindeer,” says Jen, a Canadian on a one-woman tour of Norway.

“Whale’s really good. I’m from the east coast, so we have a lot of fish but we don’t do whaling.”

As whales are mammals rather than fish, the taste is similar to a gamey meat such as venison.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/05/27/18-norwegian-foods-youve-probably-never-heard-of/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/161120493437

[allofbeercom]

18 Norwegian foods you’ve probably never heard of

(CNN)“We have products, history here that you don’t find anywhere else in the world,” says Esben Holmboe Bang, the Danish head chef of Oslo’s three-Michelin-starred restaurant Maaemo.

“For me it was mind-blowing. I saw the way they preserved fish, meat and I just thought I’ve never seen this before.”

Norway’s distinctive cuisine has been shaped by its 100,000-kilometer coastline, by its long winters and brief summers, by the forests that cover a third of its surface, and by the mountains that cut west off from east.

Here are 18 of Norway’s greatest — and strangest — specialties.

MORE: Norway becomes first country to ban deforestation

1. Smalahove

“You have to try it once in your life. This is amazing thing,” says Eirik Braek, owner of Oslo deli Fenaknoken, holding up a whole sheep’s head.

Fenaknoken is an Aladdin’s cave of cured, dried and salted delicacies, with hams strung from the ceiling like chandeliers, and Braek is a charming and enthusiastic host, giving all visitors to his shop a tasting tour of Norwegian food history.

Smalahove — literally sheep’s head — is a Christmas treat in Western Norway.

“You start with the eyes,” says Braek, because the fatty areas taste better warm. “This one you have to serve hot.”

2. Great Scallop

JUST WATCHED

Part 2: In search of the Great Scallop

Replay

More Videos …

MUST WATCH

“The sea is something we live off now and it’s something that we lived on for centuries,” says Holmboe Bang. “There’s a strong belonging to the sea.”

The cold waters mean seafood takes longer to grow, making the flesh is extra plump and tender.

In the Norway episode of “Culinary Journeys,” Holmboe Bang and Maaemo’s diver Roderick Sloan feast on “salty, intensely sweet” Great Scallops, served in their shell with reindeer moss and juniper.

People love fish so much, says Braek, that they’ll drink Omega 3 at Christmas to line their stomachs pre-revelry: “Just a small scoop. You can have more alcohol, maybe.”

MORE: Culinary theater at the world’s most northerly Michelin-starred restaurant

3. Mahogany clam

The world’s oldest animal ever is said to be a sprightly little bivalve mollusk by the name of Ming, who was dredged off the coast of Iceland in 2006 and estimated to be 507 years old.

The ones found off Norway’s northern coast will usually have been chilling in the Arctic depths for 150 to 200 years.

Says Roderick Sloan: “My job is like going to the moon every day.

“When I’m on the bottom, I only have two sounds: the sound of my heart and the sound of my breath.”

4. Dried everything

“In Norway we dry everything, because we have to,” says Braek. “We did this to survive in the future. We salted and dried things.”

Holmboe Bang agrees.

Fermenting, pickling, salting, curing, smoking: “It’s all about trying to prolong summer, it’s about making the taste of summer last.

“We’ve developed these intensely special, completely different flavor profile than the produce has in the summer, but that’s for us the taste of winter.”

“People did this for thousands of years,” he adds.

“When you think about the way people had to survive, you had to preserve your fish, you had to think ‘I have to stock up my larder for the winter, otherwise me and my family are going to die’… We don’t have that mentality any more.

“I feel like now we live in a society where everything is available all the time, and that’s a blessing and a curse.”

5. Klippfisk

JUST WATCHED

Part 3: A celebration of Nordic hospitality

Replay

More Videos …

MUST WATCH

Klippfisk — literally “cliff fish” — is dried and salted cod, in a tradition dating back to the 17th century.

In the “Culinary Journeys” video above, Holmboe Bang is schooled in the method by Nordskot expert Erling Heckneby.

6. Cod tongues

The season for fresh fish is January to April, says Braek.

Skrei — or cod — is one of Norway’s greatest exports but one specialty that hasn’t been such a hit abroad is cod tongue.

The cut is less the actual tongue than the underside of the cod chin, should you find “cod chin” sounds more appealing.

The best way to wrap your lips round some cod tongue is to toss them in seasoned flour and fry them in butter.

7. Gamalost

Gamalost means “old cheese” — and this is one that was actually eaten by Vikings.

It’s a hard, crumbly brownish-yellow cheese with a sharp, intense flavor and a pungent scent to match.

“Some people love it, some people hate it,” says Braek.

Those who really love it can join the annual Gamalost Festival held in Vik in May.

“This cheese we can keep forever. This never gets old,” adds Braek, explaining that it was a Norwegian staple in the days before refrigeration.

Production is very labor-intensive, so it’s rare to find gamalost for sale outside Norway.

MORE: Best country in the world to live? Still Norway, according to the U.N.

8. Brunost

Much easier to find than gamalost, brunost is the sweet-savory brown cheese that delights Norwegians and surprises foreigners.

It’s a goat’s cheese made from caramelized whey — giving it a sharp, sweet-sour dulce de leche taste — and its fat and sugar content is such that a truck of the stuff burnt for five days when it caught fire in a Norwegian tunnel in 2013.

Norwegians eat it on toast, with crispbread, with jam and at breakfast — though any meal will do.

A classic combo is sliced brunost on top of one of Norway’s sweetly heart-shaped waffles. They’re softer and more pliable than the Belgian variety, making them easier to fold in the hand.

At Christmas they’re eaten on toasted buttered julecake — a festive cake flavored with cardamom and dotted with fruit and candied peel.

9. Reindeer and elk

Forget the Pepsi Challenge — visitors to Fenaknoken can sample dried elk and dried reindeer side by side.

“Elk is like a dry, more wild taste,” says Braek. Reindeer is a “much smaller animal so it’s much sweeter.”

Reindeer moss — so called because reindeer eat it — is a lichen found in Arctic tundra. “It’s very special to Norway,” explains Sloan. “This is where the reindeer get all their flavor from.”

It’s also sometimes used in the making of akvavit, the famous Scandinavian spirit.

MORE: The Dukha: Last of Mongolia’s reindeer people

10. Farikal

“This is a map of Norway,” explains Braek, holding a vacuum-packed leg of lamb and pointing out the west coast, where cuisine was influenced by the shipping trade and mixing cultures, and the isolated mountain-bound east.

“At Christmas I have about 1.5 tonnes of lamb ribs” hanging from the roof of the shop, he says, a welcome sight for homesick Norwegians returning home for the festive season.

“I have people stand here and cry. ‘I’m home!'”

Pinnejott — “stick meat” — is a festive dish of salted and dried lamb or mutton ribs, typical to the west and north.

The national dish, however is farikal, a lamb and cabbage casserole traditionally eaten in fall.

11. Cloudberries

Norway has a Willy Wonka-esque inventory of evocative berry names: cloudberries, crowberries … but sadly no snozzberries.

The ethereal cloudberry is golden-yellow and only found in the wild. Its rarity earns it the nickname Arctic gold.

They have a tart appleish flavor and are often made into jam. “If you find any, don’t tell anyone where you find them,” says Braek.

Crowberry is a black cold-climate berry found in northern Europe, Alaska, Canada, Greenland and beyond.

12. Lutefisk

If a gelatinous mix of dried fish and lye doesn’t sound appealing, you might not be alone.

When we visited the world’s only Lutefisk Museum, in Norway’s “Christmas town” of Drobok, on a sunny day in May the entire place was empty — a piscine Marie Celeste with no staff, no customers, but one forlorn pile of children’s letters to Santa.

Lutefisk is a festive specialty, made by air-drying fish, reconstituting it by soaking it in cold water for a week, then soaking it in caustic lye soda for two days.

Then, to get rid of the poisonous lye, it’s soaked in water for another couple of days.

It’s not eaten in the summertime, but out of season visitors can console themselves with a light and frothy fiskesuppe (fish soup) in the cherry blossom-shaded courtyard of the Skipperstuen restaurant opposite the Museum and Aquarium, overlooking the Oslofjord.

13. Salty liquorice

Yes, the Norwegians like salting everything so much, they even do it to their candy.

The controversial mouth-puckering treat is wildly popular in the Nordic countries and widely reviled elsewhere.

It’s an acquired taste, but if you like your aniseed strong, and your gustatory receptors tingling in tandem, it might just be the candy for you.

14. Torrfisk

Torrfisk, or stockfish, is unsalted air-dried fish, usually cod.

It’s been “made in Norway for, people say, about 1,000 years,” says Braek.

It’s mentioned in the 13th century Icelandic work “Egil’s Saga,” when a chieftain ships stockfish from Norway to Britain in 875 AD.

As such, it was Norway’s biggest export for centuries.

15. Rakfisk

Rakfisk is salted, fermented trout, and it packs a pungent — and delicious — punch.

It’s usually fermented for two to three months, but it can be up to a year.

It’s often eaten with flatbrod (Norwegian flat bread) or lefse (potato bread), onions and sour cream.

16. King Crab

Like the sound of a King Crab safari?

A number of tour operators offer trips to Kirkenes, on the border with Russia, to hunt the Arctic King Crab between the months of December and April.

The mighty crustaceans can grow to a leg span of 1.8 meters.

17. Seagull eggs

Seagulls are arguably the most thuggish of seabirds, raised — in the UK, at least — on a diet of ketchup, French fries and stolen sandwiches.

But in late April or early May in northern Norway, locals like to eat hard-boiled seagulls’ eggs washed down with a pilsner beer from Tromso’s Mack’s brewery.

We don’t recommend you attempt to harvest any yourself — to protect the species, but also to protect yourself. Those gulls can be pretty handy when it comes to a fight.

18. Whale

Norway is one of only three countries still involved in the controversial practice of whaling, alongside Japan and Iceland.

For those who can stomach it, whale meat — or hvalkjott — is widely available and often marketed at curious tourists.

“I’ve tried whale and reindeer,” says Jen, a Canadian on a one-woman tour of Norway.

“Whale’s really good. I’m from the east coast, so we have a lot of fish but we don’t do whaling.”

As whales are mammals rather than fish, the taste is similar to a gamey meat such as venison.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/05/27/18-norwegian-foods-youve-probably-never-heard-of/

[readbookywooks]

FROM the side of the hill, which was here steep and stony, a spout of gravel was dislodged and fell rattling and bounding through the trees. My eyes turned instinctively in that direction, and I saw a figure leap with great rapidity behind the trunk of a pine. What it was, whether bear or man or monkey, I could in no wise tell. It seemed dark and shaggy; more I knew not. But the terror of this new apparition brought me to a stand. I was now, it seemed, cut off upon both sides; behind me the murderers, before me this lurking nondescript. And immediately I began to prefer the dangers that I knew to those I knew not. Silver himself appeared less terrible in contrast with this creature of the woods, and I turned on my heel, and looking sharply behind me over my shoulder, began to retrace my steps in the direction of the boats. Instantly the figure reappeared, and making a wide circuit, began to head me off. I was tired, at any rate; but had I been as fresh as when I rose, I could see it was in vain for me to contend in speed with such an adversary. From trunk to trunk the creature flitted like a deer, running manlike on two legs, but unlike any man that I had ever seen, stooping almost double as it ran. Yet a man it was, I could no longer be in doubt about that. I began to recall what I had heard of cannibals. I was within an ace of calling for help. But the mere fact that he was a man, however wild, had somewhat reassured me, and my fear of Silver began to revive in proportion. I stood still, therefore, and cast about for some method of escape; and as I was so thinking, the recollection of my pistol flashed into my mind. As soon as I remembered I was not defenceless, courage glowed again in my heart and I set my face resolutely for this man of the island and walked briskly towards him. He was concealed by this time behind another tree trunk; but he must have been watching me closely, for as soon as I began to move in his direction he reappeared and took a step to meet me. Then he hesitated, drew back, came forward again, and at last, to my wonder and confusion, threw himself on his knees and held out his clasped hands in supplication. At that I once more stopped. "Who are you?" I asked. "Ben Gunn," he answered, and his voice sounded hoarse and awkward, like a rusty lock. "I'm poor Ben Gunn, I am; and I haven't spoke with a Christian these three years." I could now see that he was a white man like myself and that his features were even pleasing. His skin, wherever it was exposed, was burnt by the sun; even his lips were black, and his fair eyes looked quite startling in so dark a face. Of all the beggar-men that I had seen or fancied, he was the chief for raggedness. He was clothed with tatters of old ship's canvas and old sea-cloth, and this extraordinary patchwork was all held together by a system of the most various and incongruous fastenings, brass buttons, bits of stick, and loops of tarry gaskin. About his waist he wore an old brass-buckled leather belt, which was the one thing solid in his whole accoutrement. "Three years!" I cried. "Were you shipwrecked?" "Nay, mate," said he; "marooned." I had heard the word, and I knew it stood for a horrible kind of punishment common enough among the buccaneers, in which the offender is put ashore with a little powder and shot and left behind on some desolate and distant island. "Marooned three years agone," he continued, "and lived on goats since then, and berries, and oysters. Wherever a man is, says I, a man can do for himself. But, mate, my heart is sore for Christian diet. You mightn't happen to have a piece of cheese about you, now? No? Well, many's the long night I've dreamed of cheese - toasted, mostly - and woke up again, and here I were." "If ever I can get aboard again," said I, "you shall have cheese by the stone." All this time he had been feeling the stuff of my jacket, smoothing my hands, looking at my boots, and generally, in the intervals of his speech, showing a childish pleasure in the presence of a fellow creature. But at my last words he perked up into a kind of startled slyness. "If ever you can get aboard again, says you?" he repeated. "Why, now, who's to hinder you?" "Not you, I know," was my reply. "And right you was," he cried. "Now you - what do you call yourself, mate?" "Jim," I told him. "Jim, Jim," says he, quite pleased apparently. "Well, now, Jim, I've lived that rough as you'd be ashamed to hear of. Now, for instance, you wouldn't think I had had a pious mother - to look at me?" he asked. "Why, no, not in particular," I answered. "Ah, well," said he, "but I had - remarkable pious. And I was a civil, pious boy, and could rattle off my catechism that fast, as you couldn't tell one word from another. And here's what it come to, Jim, and it begun with chuck-farthen on the blessed grave-stones! That's what it begun with, but it went further'n that; and so my mother told me, and predicked the whole, she did, the pious woman! But it were Providence that put me here. I've thought it all out in this here lonely island, and I'm back on piety. You don't catch me tasting rum so much, but just a thimbleful for luck, of course, the first chance I have. I'm bound I'll be good, and I see the way to. And, Jim" - looking all round him and lowering his voice to a whisper - "I'm rich." I now felt sure that the poor fellow had gone crazy in his solitude, and I suppose I must have shown the feeling in my face, for he repeated the statement hotly: "Rich! Rich! I says. And I'll tell you what: I'll make a man of you, Jim. Ah, Jim, you'll bless your stars, you will, you was the first that found me!" And at this there came suddenly a lowering shadow over his face, and he tightened his grasp upon my hand and raised a forefinger threateningly before my eyes. "Now, Jim, you tell me true: that ain't Flint's ship?" he asked. At this I had a happy inspiration. I began to believe that I had found an ally, and I answered him at once. "It's not Flint's ship, and Flint is dead; but I'll tell you true, as you ask me - there are some of Flint's hands aboard; worse luck for the rest of us." "Not a man - with one - leg?" he gasped. "Silver?" I asked. "Ah, Silver!" says he. "That were his name." "He's the cook, and the ringleader too." He was still holding me by the wrist, and at that he give it quite a wring. "If you was sent by Long John," he said, "I'm as good as pork, and I know it. But where was you, do you suppose?" I had made my mind up in a moment, and by way of answer told him the whole story of our voyage and the predicament in which we found ourselves. He heard me with the keenest interest, and when I had done he patted me on the head. "You're a good lad, Jim," he said; "and you're all in a clove hitch, ain't you? Well, you just put your trust in Ben Gunn - Ben Gunn's the man to do it. Would you think it likely, now, that your squire would prove a liberal-minded one in case of help - him being in a clove hitch, as you remark?" I told him the squire was the most liberal of men. "Aye, but you see," returned Ben Gunn, "I didn't mean giving me a gate to keep, and a suit of livery clothes, and such; that's not my mark, Jim. What I mean is, would he be likely to come down to the toon of, say one thousand pounds out of money that's as good as a man's own already?" "I am sure he would," said I. "As it was, all hands were to share." "AND a passage home?" he added with a look of great shrewdness. "Why," I cried, "the squire's a gentleman. And besides, if we got rid of the others, we should want you to help work the vessel home." "Ah," said he, "so you would." And he seemed very much relieved. "Now, I'll tell you what," he went on. "So much I'll tell you, and no more. I were in Flint's ship when he buried the treasure; he and six along - six strong seamen. They was ashore nigh on a week, and us standing off and on in the old WALRUS. One fine day up went the signal, and here come Flint by himself in a little boat, and his head done up in a blue scarf. The sun was getting up, and mortal white he looked about the cutwater. But, there he was, you mind, and the six all dead - dead and buried. How he done it, not a man aboard us could make out. It was battle, murder, and sudden death, leastways - him against six. Billy Bones was the mate; Long John, he was quartermaster; and they asked him where the treasure was. 'Ah,' says he, 'you can go ashore, if you like, and stay,' he says; 'but as for the ship, she'll beat up for more, by thunder!' That's what he said. "Well, I was in another ship three years back, and we sighted this island. 'Boys,' said I, 'here's Flint's treasure; let's land and find it.' The cap'n was displeased at that, but my messmates were all of a mind and landed. Twelve days they looked for it, and every day they had the worse word for me, until one fine morning all hands went aboard. 'As for you, Benjamin Gunn,' says they, 'here's a musket,' they says, 'and a spade, and pick-axe. You can stay here and find Flint's money for yourself,' they says. "Well, Jim, three years have I been here, and not a bite of Christian diet from that day to this. But now, you look here; look at me. Do I look like a man before the mast? No, says you. Nor I weren't, neither, I says." And with that he winked and pinched me hard. "Just you mention them words to your squire, Jim," he went on. "Nor he weren't, neither - that's the words. Three years he were the man of this island, light and dark, fair and rain; and sometimes he would maybe think upon a prayer (says you), and sometimes he would maybe think of his old mother, so be as she's alive (you'll say); but the most part of Gunn's time (this is what you'll say) - the most part of his time was took up with another matter. And then you'll give him a nip, like I do." And he pinched me again in the most confidential manner. "Then," he continued, "then you'll up, and you'll say this: Gunn is a good man (you'll say), and he puts a precious sight more confidence - a precious sight, mind that - in a gen'leman born than in these gen'leman of fortune, having been one hisself." "Well," I said, "I don't understand one word that you've been saying. But that's neither here nor there; for how am I to get on board?" "Ah," said he, "that's the hitch, for sure. Well, there's my boat, that I made with my two hands. I keep her under the white rock. If the worst come to the worst, we might try that after dark. Hi!" he broke out. "What's that?" For just then, although the sun had still an hour or two to run, all the echoes of the island awoke and bellowed to the thunder of a cannon. "They have begun to fight!" I cried. "Follow me." And I began to run towards the anchorage, my terrors all forgotten, while close at my side the marooned man in his goatskins trotted easily and lightly. "Left, left," says he; "keep to your left hand, mate Jim! Under the trees with you! Theer's where I killed my first goat. They don't come down here now; they're all mastheaded on them mountings for the fear of Benjamin Gunn. Ah! And there's the cetemery"-cemetery, he must have meant. "You see the mounds? I come here and prayed, nows and thens, when I thought maybe a Sunday would be about doo. It weren't quite a chapel, but it seemed more solemn like; and then, says you, Ben Gunn was short-handed - no chapling, nor so much as a Bible and a flag, you says." So he kept talking as I ran, neither expecting nor receiving any answer. The cannon-shot was followed after a considerable interval by a volley of small arms. Another pause, and then, not a quarter of a mile in front of me, I beheld the Union Jack flutter in the air above a wood.