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holycatsandrabbits · 3 years ago

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Tollense, an original serial romance by Dannye Chase, Chapter 4

A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

Chapter 4

1997 (One year later)

The convention center had been beautiful under the blue Minnesota sky when Liam had arrived, and it was still beautiful now with its windows backed by heavy showers of falling snow that threw diffuse, moving light onto the walls inside the conference room. Beautiful and alarming.

Liam’s university was located in Florida. Florida was quite nice in January, and besides, there were theme parks. Didn’t people always like theme parks? But instead, the conference was being held in Minnesota, and this was the final day. In an hour, Liam and his colleagues, other faculty of the history department, were supposed to start the twenty-some-hour drive home.

“Could have been at Disney World,” Kurt remarked, startling Liam. Liam had been too busy watching the storm to realize Kurt had come up beside him.

“What on earth?” Liam asked, quite rightfully surprised, not by Kurt’s sudden unexpected presence, as he was used to that by now, but because Kurt was not a history professor, and therefore didn’t have a reason to be at the conference.

“Thought I’d drop in,” Kurt said. “See how things were going. Anyone interested in your research on Tollense?”

“Everyone. It’s very exciting.” Liam kept his voice low. “Am I talking to myself, or can everyone else see you?”

Kurt smiled at him. “I wouldn’t give you that kind of reputation. I’m visible.” Liam could see it was true, as Kurt’s good looks were attracting a few appreciative glances. “Are you ready to come home?” Kurt asked.

“Yes, we’re due to head out soon. Not that we’re really looking forward to it.”

“Well, your co-workers can head out whenever they like. I’m taking you home.”

“What?”

Kurt looked surprised by Liam’s surprise. “You’re from Florida. You have no idea what to do with snow. They’re pulling locals off the roads, Liam. I'm not letting you drive in this weather.”

“But you don’t even know how to dr— wait.” Liam felt a bit of a shiver crawl up his spine. “Oh, no. I’m not teleporting home.”

“I’ve been doing it for thousands of years. With humans. You know that. It’s perfectly safe.”

“No.”

Now a bit of hurt flashed over Kurt’s features, and like all his dark expressions, it was vaguely unsettling. “You don’t trust me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I just don’t want to teleport.”

“Why on earth not?”

Liam hated to lie to Kurt. Partly, it was because Liam was not entirely sure that Kurt couldn’t somehow tell that he was lying. Kurt claimed that he couldn’t read minds, but he was a vampire who could teleport himself from Florida to Minnesota, and Liam would not have been at all surprised to find that Kurt was aware of the snowstorm confronting Liam without having checked the weather.

But it was also true that Kurt was Liam’s best friend and it seemed wrong to lie to him. Except Liam couldn’t tell him the truth about this, because that wasn’t going to help anyone. It was better if Kurt didn’t know that Liam was in love with him, that for over a year now, Liam had been obsessed with the memory of Kurt kissing him, slow and sweet, and that the last thing Liam needed now was for Kurt to pull him close and show off his impressive supernatural abilities in a rescue. Kurt had made it clear that he never allowed himself to fall in love with humans that he met, and Liam had to be protective of his heart, already cracked and in danger of breaking.

“Look, if you are so dead-set on it, you can use your mind-control powers to convince me,” Liam joked, and immediately realized that was worse than lying, because Kurt flinched.

“If I do that,” Kurt said, in what sounded like a carefully controlled voice, “I will lose you anyway.”

“Wh— you’re not going to lose me. I’ll get a hotel, then. Drive home later.”

“I don’t want you driving to a hotel!” Kurt looked exasperated. “Liam, you are the most adventurous person I know. Why not this?”

“Oh, I’m hardly—”

“Yes, you are. You’re like an explorer, always hungry for something new and unusual. You’re brave, and not terribly cautious, which is bad for your driving habits, but it’s perfectly safe when it comes to me, because I am never going to let anything happen to you.”

Kurt had stepped close, and Liam could tell how upset Kurt was because Kurt was losing his grip on the human appearance and mannerisms he tried to put on. Right now he looked sleek and strong and shadowy. He didn’t reach for Liam with his hands, but Liam could feel something surrounding him, like a faint cool mist. It felt oddly familiar, and Liam got the impression that the mist might actually always be there, a piece of Kurt holding onto him, and Liam had just never been consciously aware of it before.

And then everything suddenly snapped back into place: Kurt looked ordinary again, and Liam realized with a shock that a couple of his colleagues had approached them.

“What do you think?” asked one of them. “We’re talking about getting a hotel.”

“I have a ride home,” Liam said faintly. Everyone looked at him in surprise, including Kurt. Few of Liam’s fellow faculty had met Kurt, partly by Kurt’s design, because he wasn’t terribly social, and partly by Liam’s. Liam was aware that his very close friendship with a very handsome man was likely to give him a certain other reputation, one that was quite deserved (though sadly not much practiced), but not very wise in the current political climate.

Nothing for it now. “Chris Mullens, Doris Sullivan, this is my friend Kurt, ah, Smith. He was in town for something else and is heading back to Florida today. He offered me a ride.”

“Is it safe?” Doris asked, looking concerned.

“Kurt’s a very good driver. Got a— a car like a tank.”

Doris laid a hand on Liam’s shoulder, and to Liam’s surprise, Kurt seemed to bristle at that, almost literally, and the whole room seemed to go with him, the air around them feeling oddly sharp. Liam understood that Kurt was concerned that he’d change his mind and be convinced to travel with his colleagues, but it undoubtedly looked like something else from the outside— a sort of possessiveness.

“What a nice friend,” Chris said lightly, looking at Kurt in a way that Liam did not like at all, as if Kurt was not a person but a problem, not a good-looking man but a tempting trap. Liam’s personal belief was that men who were so vehemently opposed to homosexuality were probably terrified that they themselves might be vulnerable to such a “trap,” but it was better if that went unsaid.

Kurt rescued him, of course. “Yes, Liam and I have been friends for a while. I used to date one of his students, Martina.”

Chris’s face cleared a bit, losing some of its distaste. He had apparently not heard of bisexuality, or whatever word might describe Kurt. “Oh. Sure.”

“Ready to go?” Kurt asked Liam. He barely waited for an answer before steering Liam out of the room. They walked down an empty hallway where the storm winds were pushing hard enough to make the windows shift in their frames. Kurt spoke in a gentle voice. “Give it a few years. The world is becoming more tolerant again. Humans keep discovering their natures over and over.”

“This must all be very trite to you.”

“Not in the least.” Kurt’s eyes were sharp on him. “Do you think Chris is the one sending you those threatening letters?”

Liam scoffed. “He barely knows how to tie his shoes. Worse than even the typical history professor.”

Kurt looked unconvinced. “I’ll keep an eye on him all the same.” He held out a hand to Liam. “Let’s go home.”

Liam looked down at Kurt’s hand. A pale blue vein ran delicately along his wrist, and Liam wondered what flowed there, if anything. “What about my luggage?”

“I already picked it up from Dr. Sullivan’s car. It’s at your place.”

“You’re awfully confident that I’d say yes to this.”

Kurt sighed, exasperated. “I can’t believe you haven’t asked me sooner. I thought I’d be taking you to the Louvre every weekend. Or Rome. At least Antietam.”

Liam laughed. “I should have.”

Kurt smiled, looking at ease for the first time since he’d arrived. “You should.”

“Next weekend then.” Liam finally took Kurt’s hand, and their fingers fit together easily. As always, Kurt was slightly cool to the touch.

The convention center faded away into a sort of bland white light. Liam felt like he was floating, but still with his feet planted on the ground. He looked down and found his own office floor beneath his shoes.

“Stay still a moment,” Kurt warned. “People can get dizzy when they’re not used to it.” He dropped Liam’s grasp and put a steadying hand on his arm instead. And now was the moment Liam had dreaded: Kurt was so close, so strong, and so hauntingly strange.

“We must seem so very fragile to you,” Liam said.

“You are fragile.” There was a harsh coldness in Kurt’s voice.

“So how did you learn to do that? To teleport?”

Kurt shrugged. “Just always could.”

“Always?” Liam frowned. “I thought a vampire’s abilities were based on age.”

“They are.”

“But if you’ve been doing it as long as you can remember— since at least Tollense— doesn’t it follow then that your origins would have to be a great deal older than that?”

Kurt narrowed his eyes, considering.

“Or else,” Liam said, “maybe you’re not a vampire.”

“I drink blood.”

“A lot of creatures— uh, beings— are said to drink blood. I’m sorry, it must be so frustrating not to be able to remember.”

Kurt looked at him with a sort of gratitude, but then he turned away, toward the door. A second later, there was a knock, and Kurt finally let go of Liam’s arm.

It was one of Liam’s graduate students at the door, Jonah. “Hey,” he said. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Just have a couple of questions. I thought I heard you talking. Do you have company?”

Most of the students never met Kurt either, despite the fact that he was around quite a bit. Liam had learned by now that Kurt only appeared to those students he thought he might start a relationship with. Kurt had been alone since Martina had graduated, and Liam assumed it would only be a matter of time before he picked another student, someone to provide him with blood and share his bed. In between lovers, Kurt drank blood from animals, but he had told Liam that it was much better to have a human source. Kurt chose those people whom he thought would be open to the idea of a finite relationship with a vampire, those who wouldn’t be afraid of him but also wouldn’t want to stay with him indefinitely. Because Kurt never got attached.

“Let’s find out,” Liam said, and opened the door wider. His heart sank immediately when he saw that Jonah could see Kurt standing by the desk. Liam thought back for a moment to Kurt’s reaction when Doris put her hand on Liam’s arm. But Kurt wouldn’t get jealous, of course.

Liam definitely was.

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

Updates Fridays on Ao3 and DannyeChase.com (rated E), and Tumblr (rated T)

Want to create fic, art, or other works based on this series? Please do! Just dm or tag me.

My previous serials are for Good Omens: Mr. Fell's Bookshop and Love's Endless Light

My Carrd

#Dannye writes #original fiction #serial fiction #tollense #vampires #romance

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jurijurijurious · 4 years ago

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Writerly ephemera meme

I was tagged by @thisbluespirit in this rather intriguing meme!

Find five bits of yourself that you gave to your fiction (memories and places and phrases and things into our stories), post and tag five or more writers to share as well.

Now I know I do write bits of myself and my experiences into my stories, one way or another, I think everyone does, but it doesn’t half put you on the spot when you have to try to remember where you’ve done it!

1) I know that recently I wrote Walsingham passing out at the end of a scene in “Mea Culpa”. The entire description is based on personal experience. I went through a scary few years as a young teen where I would pass out for little to no reason, usually at school where there were lots of people watching to cause me huge embarrassment, which then almost gave me a form of PTSD. I was constantly anxious about fainting, it was not good, and we never found out why it happened. But that’s another story... I still occasionally pass out but it’s usually for a reason, after having a vaccine or blood taken or something, but the whole process of fainting, though horrible, is like an old nemesis to me, uncomfortably familiar. I generally feel intense sickness in my stomach, my vision is puckered increasingly with white dots, my entire body comes out in a sweat, and I hear a high pitched whistle-type noise as I lose consciousness. And so since that is my experience, it became Wals’s too:

His palms sweated, his pulse raced... He shuddered and emitted another strangled breath, fingers white where he clutched the window sill, body trembling. He needed rest. Ursula's voice was becoming distant, the room was swaying like the deck of a ship caught in a storm. He felt a sudden nausea in his stomach, could hear a high pitched sound in his ears, a siren's wail beckoning him into the abyss.

“I am sorry. So very sorry,” he whispered, though he knew not exactly who he was addressing. His own voice now sounded as if it was coming from underwater, far away; he was drowning and could resist no more, slipped where he stood and descended into the open arms of oblivion.

2) This is another Walsibeth example I’m afraid because I haven’t written anything else for about a decade! So... Though the pandemic and my lack of funds has put a temporary hold to my hobby of horse riding, I am a half-capable rider and love tearing across country if opportunity allows on horseback. I can thus write people riding horses (English style, anyway) with a degree of accuracy. So in my smutty one-shot fic “In perpetuum et unum diem” (the one which is mostly a pastiche of the raunchy finale of “The Tudors” season 1, and also an excuse for me to write shameless sex), I began the ficlet with a bit of a horse-race between Bess and Wals to get the blood up (a scene that in itself mirrors Elizabeth’s racing with Raleigh in TGA, I later realised). Though I personally haven’t raced a person on horseback per se, I have done beach rides and also ridden on a horseback safari in Africa where you gallop as a group, and “giving your horse its head” is the order of the day! So a lot of this passage is me:

She turned her head back over her shoulder and caught Francis’ eyes. His lip quirked slightly at the corner but otherwise there was no change to his countenance. But that was enough. Her smile deepend as if to invite him to race her and she turned her head back around, gave her dappled grey mare its head and pressed her calves to its flanks. And the beast responded, driving its legs harder, faster, into a gallop and flew like a falcon through the trees.

...

As the wind flew in Elizabeth’s face, making her eyes water, a great whoop of exhilaration escaped her. There was nothing but her and the horse, and the knowledge that her blackguard of a lover galloped behind her. This was what it should feel like to live, even in tragically brief snippets; to feel the blood in your veins, the air in your chest, and the sun on your face, wild and free.

They then jump a tree trunk which I’d love to say I’d do, and I might, but most of my falls have been from jumping so I’d probably wimp out and go the long way around... ;)

3) Annnd another one from my Walsibeth fic “Mea Culpa”, just because it’s fresh in my mind. When I was driving to work last winter, there was one Sunday morning which had a jaw-droppingly beautiful sunrise. I tried to take a photo of it but could not do it justice. I did find a photo of Lincoln Cathedral on instagram from the same morning though which captured the sky perfectly. It literally looked like the sky was on fire, or something, and I immediately worked this memory into my story! I felt that a sky like that would make the perfect backdrop for a single, forlorn, broken bastard riding his horse in a clear, freezing morning:

There was a strange light in the sky as the sun began to make its ascent. It turned a deep crimson then lifted to shades of rich amber and gold; this combined with the few grey clouds passing overhead gave it the illusion of a huge fire, as if a great furnace now filled the heavens. Some might have called it beautiful, others would see a grim omen.

4) I had a look in my dreaded old fic archive, so full of cringe, and I found this from the end of my Doctor Who fic “Choices”, which I reckon I wrote between 2005-2006, possibly finishing it later than that. This scene right at the end (told from the perspective of Rose and the ninth Doctor’s daughter, Hope) is literally my old senior school - the class length, the finish time, the uniform was what I wore, and my history teacher was Mrs. Gaskin, and my mum would be waiting in her car to pick me and my sisters up:

By a quarter-to-three in the afternoon, she was in another History lesson with Mrs. Gaskin, and was spending another forty-five minutes hearing about the Black Death, the plague doctors, and the red crosses that were painted on people’s doors. It was fascinating, but Hope’s concentration wasn’t there. She kept looking out of the window at the school yard, noticing the little details that other days she would take for granted - like the way the trees swayed in the wind, the way a crisp-packet rolled across the concrete, and the pure azure-blue colour of the cloudless sky. Something was afoot but she had no idea what it was, or why she was feeling this way.

The bell rang finally at the end of the lesson, as the clock read three-thirty, and the class disappeared swiftly out of the door. It was home time! The voices of myriads of children echoed and shrilled down the corridors, and desperate feet, eager to get home, pounded down the stairs, making for the exits. White shirts were un-tucked from trouser and skirt hems, blue-and-red ties were loosened from about shirt collars, and black blazers were thrown off and carried over shoulders as the mass of pupils took flight.

Hope, however, took things slowly, almost as if she might never see them again, picking up on every smile, every individual laugh, and every joke pulled on every unsuspecting victim. She waved goodbye to friends, hitched her backpack over her shoulder, and made her way out of the school gates toward the spot where her mum or Uncle Jack would usually be waiting to pick her up. As she turned the corner onto Petunia Grove, though, she stopped and sighed. The car - either her mum’s or Jack’s - was not there.

Hope pursed her lips and shrugged, taking another good look around just to make sure that she hadn’t missed it, but there wasn’t a familiar car in sight. She thus let her bag slip off her shoulder, and she perched her backside on the street sign, swinging one of her feet back and forth as she waited for the arrival of her escort.

In the meantime, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander again, as it had been doing often throughout the day, and looked around the street. There was a blue tit on the hedge over the road, stood near a couple of sparrows and a robin. The front door of house number five was a brilliant shade of red, something which she had never really noticed before, and there was some graffiti on the road sign on the opposite side of the street. It read ‘Bad’ something or other, but she couldn’t read the other word since it was blocked off by the blue box.

Hope blinked and slowly rose to her feet. It couldn’t be…

5) And for number five, this is a short extract from the an unpublished Star Wars fic I wrote around 2010, where I tried for what must have been the third time to re-write the Star Wars nonsense I wrote as a teenager, all starring my very Mary Sue OC, Nadia, who became Vader’s apprentice and was mentored by Veers. I have here again worked my experiences of passing out into the story - a psychologist would have a field day with me. Nadia’s thoughts about showing weakness were also real fears of mine - I never liked to be weak, to be ill, to be a burden, and my character was the mouthpiece for my own self-disgust. It’s written in the first person with Nadia narrating in this scene where she accompanies General (Maximilian) Veers to the Kaminoan’s cloning facility to review further batches of troops and is taken ill by the experience of seeing the thousands of farmed foetuses:

Max nodded whilst I remained breathless and shaky in his shadow. I could not get those tiny, wriggling foetuses out of many head - they floated upon my consciousness, their inhuman eyes glaring into my face and their tiny hands reaching out toward me. I tried to rid myself of these infantile phantoms, but I could not, and I suddenly felt quite ill.

“We shall need many more in our next delivery,” Max told the creature, who began to babble on about the problems of this request, but was halted mid-sentence when Maximilian wheeled about and grabbed me, saying my name over and over. He disappeared amidst the snowstorm of white dots that littered my vision, however, and I collapsed upon the floor.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a bright, white room. The walls dazzled me for a moment and it took my eyes and my mind time to adjust and to recognise reality. I looked slowly at the plain walls, finding myself alone upon a bed with my hands by my sides and a drip feeding liquid into my arm. This seemed quite surreal - I knew I was not ill enough to warrant this - but I resolved to stay put until someone came to me. I felt extremely tired and I thought that I may as well take advantage of the rest.

I fell back to sleep again and, when I next woke, I saw Max sat in a chair beside me. I glanced about the room - we were alone. I looked at him uncertainly, my visage undoubtedly betraying the signs of my mortification, for he first said: “Do not worry, Nadia, I am not angry with you. It cannot always be helped.”

...

I wanted to defy him, to be strong, but no, I just showed him weakness and insecurity. What indignity was this?

Thanks for the tag, that was fun! I can’t think of 5 writers to tag but off the top of my head: @feuillesmortes, @robins-treasure and @captainofthegreenpeas? Have a go if you fancy.

#memes #writerly ephemera meme

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fellowbrock · 5 years ago

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Snowstorm-Colby Brock

summary: requested by an anon! “Heyyyy! Can you write an imagine where y/n goes to Colby's house for a school project while his parents are away. Suddenly it started snowing by the time they notice it's already too dangerous to go home so Colby offered to let y/n sleep there and they ended up falling asleep together on the couch. In the mornings ng they rush to go to school and y/n ends up wearing Colby's so their friends teases them. Idk if it makes sense ✌”

masterlist

You groaned as the teacher announced he was picking the partners for the new assignment. Your best friend looked over at you, rolling her eyes, obviously having the same thoughts running through her head. You hated being stuck with someone you didn’t know and you had that gut feeling that the teacher was going to stuck you with someone completely out of your comfort zone.

“Alright next pair will be y/n and Colby.” Your teacher announced, continuing to go through the class names, pairing off the rest of your classmates. You glanced over at the brunette across the classroom. You had never been super close to Colby, but you’ve known him since the third grade so you hoped nothing would be awkward, and honestly you weren’t upset with the pairing. It could have been way worse. After creating all the groups, your teacher dismissed the class to start planning for the project. You got up and went to sit next to Colby. He smiled at you.

“Hey, I actually have some great ideas for the project.” You told him, hoping he’d happily let you take some charge.

“I do too, and i have a ton of supplies at my place, do you wanna come over tonight to work on it?” You couldn’t help but get a little red at the thought of going over to Colby’s house. He was a sweet guy, and super cute.

“That sounds great, I can make it over around 4?” You offered, as Colby nodded in agreement, proceeding to write notes for the two of you to follow later that day.

You made your way over to Colby’s place around 3:30, giving yourself some time to get there as you noticed it was starting to snow in your small town. You couldn’t figure out why you were feeling nervous, but there were butterflies taking sanctuary in your stomach. You knocked on the door, adjusting your appearance out of habit. He opened the door, welcoming you into his house. You hurried in, it already being very frigid outside as the snow started to come down harder. Colby showed you where to put your jacket as you put your bag down, removing your boots. He brought you to the kitchen table, where he had set up a proper area for you guys to get your work done.

The two of you had gotten into the zone, making great progress on your project and completely missing how fast time had escaped you. It was 7pm and the two of you hadn’t eaten dinner.

“My parents are away until Monday, they left money for dinner. Is pizza okay?” he asked, and you nodded agreeing. He went off the call the pizza place and you grabbed your phone, shooting your mom a message. You let her know that you were still at Colby’s safe and sound, and eating dinner with him. She asked you to stay there until the snow let up. You wandered over to the window and peered outside. The ground was covered in at least 3 inches of snow, and it didn’t look like it was stopping anytime soon. Checking the weather reports, your assumptions were deemed true. It made you a bit nervous to think about driving home in the shitty weather, but you knew Colby would never force you out if it wasn’t safe. He was a good guy, and you wanted to get to know him more.

‘maybe being snowed in together won’t be so bad’ You pondered, as Colby returned to the room.

“Pizza’s on it’s way, hopefully it won’t be too long in this weather.” He informs you, joining you at the window.

After eating the two of you worked until about 9:30, finishing what you could before calling it a night. The snow was coming down even harder. Colby suggested the two of you watch a movie to wait out the snowstorm. The both of you figured it may let up by then, but you would later discover you were far from right. You and Colby settled on the couch and after scrolling through Netflix for a while, a movie was decided upon. Before clicking play, Colby turned to you.

“I know we don’t know each other super well, but just to be safe, it’s cool with me if you stay overnight. It’s way too dangerous to drive anyway.” you smiled at his generous offer and concern.

“Thanks Colby, that makes me feel a lot better.” It was a good thing he made the offer because you made it about halfway before passing out on the couch.

You both were startled awake by the alarm of your phone going off. Both you and Colby had ended up falling asleep on the couch. Checking the time on his phone, he jolted up off the couch, disturbing your comfortable spot on his shoulder.

“Come on y/n we should’ve been up 20 minutes ago!” he exclaims, racing upstairs to change. You scrambled to get ready, collecting your essentials for school and fixing your knotted hair. Luckily you kept an emergency makeup kit in your backpack, so you quickly touched up your face. Looking down at your clothes you figured you could wear your pants again, being in black leggings, but your shirt would not do. Colby must’ve read your mind because he came racing down the stairs in new outfit and tossed you a hoodie.

“Figured you may need something else to wear. “ he laughs, going to the kitchen to grab you each an apple for breakfast and collecting his own things for school. The two of you rushed to put on your boots and jackets. Colby locked his door before coming over to help you clear off your car.

You drove quickly but carefully, the roads weren’t amazing even though most of them had been plowed. Arriving at school, you and Colby walked in together.

“Wanna hang out again tonight? We can do some more work and maybe just, um get to know each other?” Colby asks before leaving you to head to his locker.

“I’d love to, I’ll drive us to your place after school?” You suggest. He agrees and rushes off to his locker, leaving you blushing. You head to your locker where some of your friends are waiting.

“Look who decided to show up!” Your best friend says as you put in your combination, opening your locker.

“And in who’s sweater?” Your other friend demands, bringing curiosity to everyones eyes. You blush madly and laugh and your friend’s prying.

“It’s Colby’s I had to stay over at his place last night because of the weather.” you informed them, still blushing. This triggered a chorus of questions and sarcastic comments about how you ‘HAD TO STAY’. You laughed at your friends’ teasing, but secretly loved the thought of staying over at Colby’s for other reasons. It made you even more excited for the upcoming afternoon.

#colby brock #colby brock imagines #colby brock fanfic #colby brock oneshot #colby brock x reader #TRAPHOUSE #traphouse imagines #traphouse oneshot #Sam and Colby #youtuber imagines #youtuber oneshot

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staticscreenwriting · 5 years ago

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12 Days of Christmas - [Day 4]

A/N: Day number 4 for the Christmas coundown with @mattysheelies. This one’s almost 6k words. I loved writing this and I hope you like it too. It’s cheesy and cutesy and maybe cliché but it’s Christmas so idgaf. ENJOY ♥

Prompt: Snowed in together.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

“I felt so lonesome, all of a sudden. I almost wished I was dead.”

It happens, every once in a while, that you read a sentence in a book that you’ve read a hundred, maybe a million times before and it suddenly hits you like a punch straight to your gut. Because it’s different now. The book has stayed the same all through the seasons but you realize, you’re a whole new person who’s been through a whole new set of trials and tribulations. And all of a sudden you understand.

I slump back into the cold, sticky plastic of the bright blue seat and clutch my beat up copy of Catcher in the Rye closer to me. I face the huge windows, looking out into the black of the night and the airplanes, firmly rooted on the ground. There’s a heavy downfall of snow and no sign of it stopping anytime soon.

Maybe, I realize, this is my reckoning. Isn’t this what I’ve been wishing for ? A white Christmas like the one from the songs and the movies ?

Well merry fucking Christmas, (Y/N).

Every snowflake is a sick reminder of what could have been. Of what isn’t.

I let my eyes travel around the area. Rows and rows of blue plastic seats. There’s not a lot of people waiting around here. I assume most people have flown home a few days ago to make it in time for Christmas and the few that weren’t smart enough to do that, have resorted to some bar or a restaurant or something.

In theory, I could do that too. The thing is, spending Christmas eve by myself in an airport restaurant, would just seal the deal for this being the most depressing and downright sad Christmas of my whole life.

So I stay seated and lose myself in Holden Caulfield's delightful pretentiousness.

They’re playing Christmas music from a nearby speaker. I wonder if they want to taunt me. Me and everyone else stuck in a fucking snowstorm on Christmas Eve in god damn Indianapolis. They even have a tree set up and where it should make people happy, it only makes me even more sad. I wanna be home with my family, decorating my own tree with all the weird and quirky ornaments we’ve collected over the years. They all come with their own stories and it fills my heart with bittersweet nostalgia.

I’ve never known what being homesick feels like until tonight.

Again my eyes move along the rows of plastic seats. There’s a man in a sharp suit a few rows down. He’s got neatly combed hair and a red tie and shiny shoes and a face that says “ My name is Michael and I don’t allow anyone to call me by a nickname and I have an important job and I drive an expensive car and I probably fuck my secretary. “

It’s not a face you particularly want to look at. Except maybe if you’re said secretary.

A family of 3 sits by the end of the row. They seem — at peace. And for a moment I wish I could be them. I guess it’s different being stuck if you’re stuck with the people you love.

It makes me bitter to think about it so I avert my eyes and let them travel down the other side of rows. Which turns out to be no better for my mental state because there’s a couple there and they do not seem to care that an airport terminal is not the ideal place for some serious tongue action.

Across from them sits a guy, he’s got a mean mullet. Strands and strands of golden curls. He’s wearing a leather jacket and big black boots and there’s a deep scowl permanently edged onto his face. If he’s aiming for the whole bad boy vibe, he’s really nailing it.

I can see him shaking his head, as he too notices the couple getting awfully touchy, and I can’t suppress a laugh.

He notices and he looks at me and even across two whole rows of plastic seats I can see just how gorgeously blue his eyes are.

He doesn’t laugh or smirk or does anything to give me any indication of his feelings. Maybe I’m grateful for it. Maybe I wish he would. It would be quite nice to make a connection with someone right now. Just to make being alone feel a little less lonely.

“ the snow's comin' down

(Christmas) I'm watchin' it fall

(Christmas) lots of people around

(Christmas) baby, please come home”

It’s quite ironic, really,that they would chose this damn song. Of all the Christmas songs in all of the world.

Mullet boy seems to be a kindred spirit in this regard, I can see him sigh and murmur a “for fucks sake” into to collar of his jacket, as he sinks deeper into the chair.

“They’re singing deck the halls, but it’s not like Christmas at all. “

Yeah it really fucking isn’t.

A smacking of lips catches my attention and I focus back on the couple just to witness the guy’s hand travel straight under the sweater of his girlfriend. It’s a sight I don’t particularly want to see.

A sight that apparently makes my face screw up in aversion. And as it does, old blue eyes looks back at me and this time, I see a smirk. It vanishes as quickly as it appeared but I know for a fact that it was there. Maybe I don’t have to be all that lonely after all.

I close the bruised and battered orange book that, at this point, is hardly orange anymore, and place it in my backpack. If my life was a John Hughes movie or maybe any other romantic comedy, I’d get off my seat and walk over. There’d be some cheesy some playing in the background, maybe by the Smiths. I would throw him a smile and he’d look at me, an angel’s choir singing wonderous melodies. And tonight would change both our lives forever.

Alas my life is not a movie that Morrissey wrote any songs about. I am a coward and my heart already lies in several little pieces at my feet. So I don’t walk over just like that with no idea what to say, no incentive.

Instead I grab my backpack and walk past him, down a long corridor and end up at a vending machine that sells both, coffee and soup and I secretly pray that they don't come from the same jet.

The last coffee I had, I think as the warm liquid fills the paper cup, I bought at the little cart by Kelvin’s dorm room. It was a good coffee, had Hazelnut sirup in it. I remember the warmth of it in my hand. I remember the taste on my tongue. I vividly remember the sound of the cup hitting the floor and the stains on my pants and the feeling of my heart as it broke in two.

I don’t want to remember that though, so I will myself to ignore it. To push the thoughts away. I fill the second cup, grab it, put lids on them and then carry them back towards the row of seats.

Mullet boy doesn’t as much as glance at me as I drop down in the seat next to him. Only shows me that he notices me as I hold one of the coffee cups out to him.

“ Sorry it’s not booze. I know that would make looking at these two a little more entertaining. “

For a second he just looks at me in confusion, contemplates whether or not to trust me. In the end he takes the drink so I take that for a good sign.

“ Thanks. “

His voice is deep and raspy and I really really like the way it sounds.

“ I wonder if they even realize there’s other people around “ I say, watching the dude’s hand travel down the girls back, as they dreamily blink at each other like the main characters on a romance novel. Maybe those two get the romance and the the Smith song in the background. Maybe I’m just a sad side character in their story.

Mullet boy scoffs, takes a sip of coffee then speaks up. “ Don’t even think they’d notice if we joined in “.

He smirks at that. There’s an absolute underappreciation for people who laugh at their own jokes. I think it’s charming, endearing even. If you can’t laugh at your own joke, how do you expect anyone else to do it.

“ Least they’re not alone on Christmas fucking eve “

I don’t know why I say it. I don’t necessarily want to share my sob story. Sometimes my words just move faster than my head does.

“ Christmas is overrated anyway “ blue eyes says and shrugs his shoulders in a way that’s supposed to look casual. Only you can’t say shit like “Christmas is overrated” and be casual about it. There’s always more to a statement like that.

“ You think ? “

“ I know. “

“ How come ? “

He turns to face me and raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. It’s like he’s straight from the cover of one of my mom’s romance novels. I think it’s quite unfair that he gets to look like this on a day like today and I — I look just the way I feel. Sad. Exhausted.

“ It’s none of your business. “

“ Oh geez, and here I was thinking we were bonding over our shared distaste for PDA. Guess not. “

“ You guessed right. “

For a moment, we fall into silence as another song plays over the stereo that has entirely too many obnoxious jingle bells in the backing track. For a moment I feel very lonely again.

It’s then, that the universe seems to have pity on me. It sends me a sign. A gift. A little Christmas miracle if you will.

That comes in the form of the couple getting more touchy, more — obnoxious. So obnoxious that the girl leans back, presumably to lay on the seats, only that’s not what happens. It seems to happen in slow motion when really it’s probably only the blink of an eye. She leans back and back and back and suddenly tumbles off the seats and onto the cold linoleum floor, her mister holding onto her so tightly, he falls right down with her.

My mama always told me not to laugh at other people’s misfortune. But at 18 years of age, I feel it’s time to break some rules my mama set. And this is one of them.

I can’t help it. I laugh. It comes from the deepest corner of my belly and fills my entire being. Then I catch those gorgeous blue eyes looking at my and I notice he’s laughing too. A hearty laugh. I think it’s a good one. No halfway laugh. No bullshitting. It’s a proper laugh and, as we lock eyes, our laughter only seems to increase.

The magic bubble that, until now, has surrounded the couple, seems to have been popped. It’s vanished. For them at least. Because as our laughter rings in unison, a proper harmony of joy, I feel like maybe me and mullet boy have been given a tiny spark of magic ourselves.

“ I’m (Y/N), by the way “ I say, trying to hold in more chuckles.

“ Billy ”

“ No no, you got it all wrong. His name is Michael and he’s on a business trip that he tells his wife he couldn’t postpone but actually he just wanted to get away from his family for the holidays. “

“ Michael ? nah. This dude’s not a Michael. “

“ So what’s his name then, Billy ? “

He thinks for a moment, face scrunched up in a way that is absolutely adorable. It makes him look way younger than he probably is. Very boy-ish. Very cute.

“ Edward “

“ Edward ? “

“ Yes. Look at him, he looks so boring. And can you think of a more boring name than fucking Edward ? “

I have to admit, he has a point. So I shrug and nod. “ You have a point. “

The little family from earlier, passes us and, as the mom glances towards us, her eye linger on Billy just a moment too long for it to be accidental. And he notices, the cocky bastard. He notices and revels in it, letting the corner of his lips lift up in a teasing smirk.

“ What the fuck was that ? “ I asked, flattened by the sheer audacity for both of them.

“ I got that effect on women of all ages. “

“ Wow, your ego is really tiny, huh. “

When he looks at me, grin widening and eye filling with mischief, I know I just said the wrong thing. I set myself up with this one, I admit that.

“ That’s the only thing tiny about me. “

“ Aaaand that’s my cue to leave. “ I pull myself halfway out of my seat when his arm shoots out and his hand grabs onto mine. The mischief in his eyes in gone, completely replaced by a pure and unfiltered honesty.

“ Stay. Please. “

I sink back down and we fall into a silence. He knows that I saw it in his eyes, the fear of being left alone and I know that he knows and so we’re stuck in this weird limbo of whether to ignore it or spill our sorrows to one another. And maybe it’s because today is Christmas and on Christmas you tell the truth, even if it to a stranger at an airport, but he suddenly breaks the silence and starts talking.

“ I don’t wanna be alone. “

“ Yeah me neither. “

“ I uh — I was supposed to be in California, to visit my mom over Christmas. I haven’t seen her in — in years. This was supposed to be our first Christmas together since I was 8. I called her earlier, from the payphone. I thought she might be devastated. She’s not. I don’t think she cares very much if I’m there or not. I’m still debating whether or not I wanna get on the plane if it ever goes. “

“ I came to visit my boyfriend for Christmas. Surprise him, you know. He’s going to college here in Indiana. We’re both from California and we haven’t seen each other since the summer. I thought It was the ultimate proof of my love to him. Well — turns out he’s been fucking his way around campus while I’ve been busy making plans on how to rearrange my life and all my dreams, to come study with him in Indiana after I graduate High School. “

Another silence fills our hearts but this one isn’t thick with anticipation and tension. It’s one that settles deep in our bones as we realize, that sometimes there’s comfort in shared misery.

“ Merry fucking Christmas to us. “ Billy murmures.

“ Do you wanna go see if we can get a drink at the bar ? “

“ That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a while. “

“ I can not believe your fake ID says you’re name’s Ricky Hardman. “

“ If you’re mocking me I can just drink this myself, you know. “

“ Oh come on. It’s just — that sounds like such a porn name. “

“ So what. “

I have to snort at his complete lack of self reflection. He knows I’m right but he’s so stubborn. Again I find myself thinking it’s endearing rather than annoying.

To come back to a statement I made earlier, I also think we don’t appreciate the people enough, that make us snort-laugh. Is it a bit embarrassing and cringy? Sure but it’s a laugh either way and I don’t think we should ever take that for granted.

“ Put the cups down so I can spice it up a little bit “ Billy instructs me and I do as he says. This is probably our 4th refill of coffee for the night, my mom would have a go at me for all the caffeine but whatever.

Billy opens the bottle of booze he just purchased at the airport store and pour us both a decent amount into our coffees. Might as well have our own little Christmas celebration if we’re stuck here with nothing else to do.

Cups clutched in our hands we roam around the airport, cheeks warming up from the alcohol. I feel more at peace now and yet my heart is ever as heavy with the longing to be home.

A sign directs us towards the visitors terrace where families usually gather to watch the planes take off and land. It’s deserted now but that’s not really a surprise. It’s cold, it’s snowing and there’s no flights going anyway. It’s just a dark, snowy night and a lonely runway illuminated by small lights that, if you believe hard enough, almost look like fairy lights in the distance.

“ I know it looks pretty, “ I say as I lean against the banister of the terrace “ but I really don’t find snow all that great.”

“ I fucking sucks, “ Billy replies. “ It’s cold and wet and turns into gray slosh in the matter of a few minutes. “

“ I always dreamed of a white Christmas, now I can’t wait to never see snow again. “

“ Me too. I hate it. Snow. Indiana. At least you get to stay in California once you make it there. I have to wait until graduation to finally move back home. “

I don’t want to pry, I really don’t but there’s something about him that intrigues me. Everything he says and does in scrowded in some kind of mystery. Some hidden meaning in all of it.

The way he looks and the way his words hold a certain softness to them, is a whole enigma in itself.

“ You wanna come back to Cali ? “

“ Fuck yes. I can’t stay here longer than I need to. I miss the sun and the beach and — my home. “

“ Oh god yes, the beach. “

“ See, and you wanted to give up on all of that for a guy called Kelvin. “

“ I — he’s nice.”

“ Oh I’m sure he is. And secure and smart. “

“ He is. We’ve been together since my sophomore year in Highschool. He was my first — everything. He studies business and is gonna take over his dad’s company one day. “

Billy blows a raspberry before turning to me with his perfect eyebrow raised in mockery.

“ That is so dull. “

“ It’s not “

“ But it is ! Tell me honestly, do you really love this guy or is it just — comfortable. Being with him ? “

And once again, something that I’ve considered so many times in my life, suddenly affects me in a completely different way than I am used to. I understand all of a sudden.

I get it.

“ I mean, maybe you have a point. What makes you the relationship expert though ? “

“ Nothing. I’m not saying I am. But I know I never plan on spending my whole life with someone because I am comfortable with them. It’s your goddamn life, you should live it for yourself. “

It hits me light a freight train. Straight in the heart. He’s right. Whether I want to admit it or not, Billy is right. I don’t let him know that though, it’s hard enough admitting it to myself. I think he knows anyway, by the way I look at him. By the way he looks at me.

“ Have you decided whether or not you wanna get on the flight ? “ I ask. It’s still not my place to ask those questions but it feels like something has shifted between us. Like tonight is ours entirely. A night of truths. Of heart opened and unguarded.

“ The alternative is spending Christmas with my dad and his wife and my stepsister. “

“ Sounds alright to me. “

“ Yeah, only my dad is the biggest asshole on the planet. He’s not a nice guy. His wife is a fucking nutcase, obeying his every will. She has the backbone of a jellyfish. And Max — Max hates me. That one’s my fault though. “

I want to hug him. It’s a strong urge that overcomes me. A sudden rush. His words are soft and sad and frustrated and I can see in his eyes just how much this hurts him. And god, it’s Christmas Eve. I just want to make him feel a little less alone.

So I do. I hug him, rest my head on his shoulder and together we look at the snow falling around us, covering the world in a thick white frosty blanket.

“ I’m sorry about that. Just so you know though, I’m glad we’re stuck here together. “

“ Well yeah, I’m hot and fun and I have great hair. “

“ Oh there we go again with the ego. “ I laugh. He makes me me laugh. Like genuinely laugh. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this around Kelvin.

“ What’s that book you’ve been reading. “ Billy asks as the laughter settles down again.

“ Catcher in the Rye. It’s one of my favorites. “

“ Uh-huh. What’s it about ?”

“ This boy, Holden. He gets kicked out of prep school and runs of to New York City and yeah it basically chronicles his days in NYC. It’s about loss of innocence and isolation. “

“ Sounds absolutely — “

“ Wonderful “

“ Boring. “

Here’s the thing about interests and hobbies. They’re a very personal, very individual experience. They’re yours. And yes, maybe it’s nice to share your passions with another person who feels the same. But let’s be honest: It doesn’t really matter. I am not hurt by Billy’s disinterest. Not even by his mocking scoff. Because it in no way lessens my love for the book. The story it tells and the nostalgia it brings me.

It also doesn’t lessen the affection growing inside me, towards Billy. An affection that both scares and excites me at the same time. By all means, it is delusional to fall for a stranger at an airport, who doesn’t even live in the same state as me. Someone I’ve only spent a few hours with.

Then again, life is never a straight path. I used to think it was but after tonight, maybe I can let myself take some backroads. Take a road less traveled. See where it leads me and if it brings me to a dead end, turn around and try again.

Maybe sometimes it needs a boy with a leather jacket and gorgeous blue eyes, to make you realize that life can be so much more if you just let yourself live it.

“ Okay sure. What are your interests then ? I’m sure there’s something you like doing, something you care about. “

“ My car. “

“ That’s such a guy answer. “

“ Pff, whatever. “

“ What else ? “

He takes a moment to answer. Contemplates. Mulls his answer over in his head. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes I haven’t seen since he talked about his mom earlier tonight.

“ Music. “

“ Music ?”

“ I really care about music. Not — not playing it but just music in itself. You can’t tell anyone this, okay ? It’s a bit ridiculous and It’s not really realistic, but I would love to work at a record label. Or maybe have my own music venue. To help discover bands and find new, awesome music. Whenever I’m sad or angry or frustrated, or even happy, there’s a specific songs for any emotion, any situation. I want everyone to be able to have that in their life. “

There’s something undeniably sexy about someone being passionate about something. He only just started but I could honestly listen to Billy talk about music for hours and hours and hours.

“ So who’s your favorite band then ? “

“ I’ll sound pretentious as fuck but my favorites are probably some local bands from my hometown in California. “

“ Maybe when you’re back home after graduation, you can take me to a gig. Show me some of those bands. “

My heart beats faster as I realize this is the first time either of us has mentioned there being a future. More than just one magical night at the airport.

It slipped out but I’m glad it did. The idea of more nights together, more time spent listening to him talk about his music. Experiencing that music with him. It doesn’t scare me. In fact, it excites me so much.

“ Yeah. Sounds like a plan. “

“ A good plan. “

“ A great plan. “

I don’t know if he notices that I notice, but his hand drops to the small of my back, so gently it’s but a whisper of a touch. It warms me up more than our boozy coffee ever managed to.

Airports have a weird energy. A specific mood that transcends through every corner in every room. It’s loaded with the arrival of change. It might be good and exciting or it might be sad. But something is about to change and you can feel it sizzling in the air.

As I stand next to Billy in the softly falling snow, I know that the girl that arrived at the airport earlier today, heartbroken and without purpose, is not the same girl that’s gonna get on that flight home. Something has changed. I think I like this new girl better.

“ They’re singing deck the halls … “

“ Oh Jesus, what is it with this fucking song ? “

“ What, you don’t like it ? “

“ Do you ? “

“ Totally “

I don’t know what hits me. Maybe it’s the fact that the future is so awfully unknown. I don’t know if after tonight I will ever see Billy again. Or maybe because it’s Christmas.

Or maybe because I’m a little drunk and half in love.

But I start to dance and sing along. With the snow falling down on me. Snowflakes dropping onto my hair and melting, leaving it wet and streaky. But it doesn’t matter right then. All that matter is the music and the night and him and I.

“ Come dance with me. “

“ I don’t dance. “

“ It’s Christmas Eve, Billy. It’s my Christmas wish. Come on. There’s no one around. “

Here’s some piece of advice from me to you: If you’ve never had a guy in a leather jacket and biker boots twirl you around while the snow is falling and Christmas songs play over the stereo, then you’re missing out.

Billy’s hand is warm, his smile is gentle. It’s all so vastly different from the way I felt when touching Kelvin. Everything that comes with Billy is an enigma, a surprise. Nothing is certain and yet I am sure that I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now.

The last chord of the song echoes through the night as Billy pulls me close to him, I can see his breath in the cold, accumulating in little clouds. I can feel his skin in mine.

“ You’re gonna get on that flight, Billy Hargrove. “ I say, my voice but a sigh. A whisper

“ I’m gonna get on the flight. I’m gonna graduate and then come back to California. Permanently this time. I’ll find you and take you to all the underground clubs and show you all my favorite bands. And I’ll even listen to you talk about your books. “

“ Even if you think they’re boring. “

“ Uh-huh. “

“ Hey Billy. “

“ Hmm ? “

“ I think I wanna write a book. I think that’s what I want to do with my life. “

He’s so close now, our noses touching, our breaths touching, our lips touching. Warm and soft and gentle.

“ Write about us, so you don’t forget me. “

I kiss him then. Or he kisses me. I don’t know for sure but really what does it matter. In the grand scheme of things it’s irrelevant who initiated the kiss. It matters that it happened. And by god I will never be able to forget this kiss or the boy that gave it to me.

“ Dear passengers, we are delighted to announce that the runway has been cleared. The sky is blue and free of any downfall. Flights will resume shortly. More information about departure times will be available shortly. Feel free to turn to our staff for guidance or additional information.

“ Billy. Hey, Billy. “ I say, and shake him awake. He looks so peaceful and boyish while sleeping, it breaks my heart a little to interrupt his sleep.

“ Hmm.. ? “

“ I think our flights are gonna go soon. Snow’s stopped. “

“ Oh. “

I don’t have to ask to know what he’s feeling. What he wants to say. “ Oh. this is it for us. “

We gather our stuff, stretch our limbs and get off the uncomfortable plastic seats. The board on the wall shows us that our flights go in just two hours. His to San Diego, mine to LA.

Our time is numbered and we finally have an expiration date. My heart breaks once again though this time I try to hold onto the fact that we both want a future of whatever it is we’re sharing. Even if it’s just a friendship, I want Billy Hargrove in my life.

“ Hey uh — “ Billy speaks up and takes my hand in his “ let’s make a deal. “

“ What deal ? “

“ To see each other again. Maybe — maybe next Christmas Eve. “

“ Where ? “

“ I don’t know. Let me — let me come to you. “

“ Santa Monica pier. “

“ Okay sure. “

“ Cool. “

He kisses me again and this one too, will stay with me forever. In my heart and in my head.

“ Here I’ll give you my phone number. Call me if anything changes. If my dad answers just ignore his stupid comments “ He says, fumbles around in his backpack and come up with a pen and — a cassette tape ?!

“ Something to remember me by “ he points out as he scribbles his number onto the little slip of paper. “ Some of my favorite songs on there. “

“ If you give me something, let me give you something too. “ I say and pull out my old worn out copy of Catcher in the Rye, scribble a message on the first page, then hand it to him.

“ There’s a bunch of notes in the margins. I never got to share them with anyone, I’ll gladly share them with you. “

Then I kiss him. Again and again and again, until it’s all I can think about and all I can feel.

“ Flight 207 to LAX boarding now. “

And that is it for us, at least for now. The magic of last night is broken. It’s Christmas Eve gone, replaced by Christmas day. No snowstorm. No magic. Just the brutal truth that real life awaits.

So we part. With more kisses and a promise.

“ Until next Christmas. “

The plane is already high up in the air when Billy Hargrove pulls the book from his pocket. It’s old and worn out and what looks like it used to be orange once upon a time is now a washed out beige.

He opens it up to the first page and can’t suppress a smile. A real one. Not one of those he fakes for his dad and susann. A real smile that reaches his eyes. One he feels in his heart.

“ Meet me at the Merry-Go-Round! “

His heart soars as he thinks about next year. A future that suddenly looks much brighter than ever before.

There’s a lot of notes and scribbles and highlighted sentences. He skims through it until one passage catches his attention.

“ Make sure you marry someone who laughs at the same things you do. “

And so he thinks back to the overly touchy couple and their magnificent tumble from the plastic seats. And he remembers her laugh and his ringing up in unison.

He understands. That Holden guy has a point. Maybe it’s worth reading the book after all.

A year later.

I’m rushing through the crowd of people, a vibrant clementine sky the backdrop for my misery. God, why can I never be on time.

My heart hammers in my chest. Please don’t leave. Please don’t leave.

His eyes meet mine across the way as he leans against the banister by the Merry-Go-Round and I feel like I am back at the airport. The magic is back.

“ Sorry I am late. I am so so sorry. “ I say and can’t help myself but pull him into a kiss. One filled with passion and longing and a promise kept.

“ Ah If a girl looks swell when she meets you, who gives a damn if she’s late. “ He replies.

“ You read the book. “

“ I read the book and all your notes. “

“ That’s good, I uh — have something else for you to read. “

It’s a bundle of papers, no cover art or fancy pictures on the front page. All it says in big bold letters is “ A white Christmas - a story of girl meets boy. “ I hand it to Billy and he looks at me in confusion.

“What’s that ? “

“ That’s the first draft of my book. “

“ You wrote it! “

“ You believed I could so I did. “

“ What’s it about ? “

“ Oh you know, just a girl and a boy and a magical night at the airport. Lots of snow. Lots of kissing. Little bit of magic. “

“ Can’t wait to read it. So, you wanna go see a band ? “

“ They any good ? “

“ Pretty fucking good!”

Darlene Love’s voice echoes through the stereo and for the first time I have to disagree. This feels like Christmas more than any moment before ever did.

And my baby is finally home.

Taglist; [I copied this from @mattysheelies and just added a few new ones, if you wanna be added or deleted from the taglist please let me know]

@sebastiansloserclub ; @killer-queen-xo ; @william-hargroves ; @billysgodcomplex ; @daisyxbuckley ; @allabouthargrove ; @mcrmarvelloki ; @charmed-asylum ; @1998--js ; @naiomiwinchester ; @hargrovesprincess ; @mystrangerfics ; @teafrompari ; @staybruuutal ; @colourado ; @higher-further-faster-bb ; @ayybtch ; @carlaangel86 ; @baebee35

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove imagines #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #12dayswriting

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princessanneftw · 5 years ago

Text

(Don't hate me, this is TBC.)

Ice

The snow was falling silently, covering the grounds and giving Anne a sense of peace and quiet that she rarely felt these days; reclined on an armchair, a cup of tea on the table and a book in hand, she relaxed, thinking that maybe a nap wouldn’t be a bad idea...only to be quickly roused by another violent cough from the bed where Zara was lying, her little body shaking from exertion and high temperature.

She ought to have known that something like this would happen. She was a admittedly a pessimist so she should have been better prepared. She had given her entire staff the weekend off, since it would be just her and Mark and it was Valentine’s day on Saturday; her parents had wanted a weekend with all of their grandchildren, and she could just imagine how happy the Press Office reptiles had been at the prospect, ready to use the occasion to underline the stability of her and Charles’ marriages; she and Diana had even briefly joked about it on the phone, when the Princess of Wales had called to ask if Anne wanted to send Peter and Zara to London with her, William and Harry on Friday. The idea was a good one and she had accepted, but of course, the basic rule of a perfect plan is that nothing ever goes according to that plan.

First of all, a storm had come, bringing cold and snow in the majority of the country, so, despite some heavy protests on their side, she had sent the staff away on Thursday afternoon, reassuring everyone that she would be fine. After all, Mark was coming back on Friday and the guardian was still on the estate. Then, after dinner, Zara had started coughing and shivering, and a rapid check with the town doctor had confirmed that she was suffering from a bad cold. During the night the blizzard had intensified, and on Friday morning Mark had been left stranded in Ireland due to the weather.

And that’s how, on February 13, 1987, she’d ended up alone, during a snowstorm, with a sick little girl and the partial belief that things certainly couldn’t get any worse. At lunchtime the guardian came to look in on them and to inform her that he would be out on the estate probably until nightfall. Soon afterwards the fever was back again, and just as Anne was getting the Ibuprofen, the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello Anne.”

“Oh hello Mummy.”

“How are you? How is Zara?”

“I’m fine, but I’m afraid Zara is not improving. The fever is back and the coughing hasn’t subsided.”

“Oh the poor dear.. What did the doctor say?”

“Everything’s normal, I just need to keep her warm and give her Ibuprofen when her temperature rises. In fact I was just going to do that, would you mind waiting for a...”- she stopped abruptly, the open box in her hand and a single pill in it. Apparently she was wrong. Things could get worse.

“Anne? Are you there? What happened?”

“I’m running out of Ibuprofen. I’ve just got one pill left, bloody hell! I gave Mark the new box, and the guardian is out on the estate, I can’t reach him...I need to drive into town. I’ll take Zara with me.”

“Are you mad? You can’t take her out in this weather! There must be another way...” - Anne could hear her mother talking with someone, perhaps her father – “When do you need to give her Ibuprofen next?”

“I need to wait at least six hours, so if her temperature rises again she’ll take it at around eight o’clock, why?”

“I’ll deal with this, you just focus on Zara, ok?”

“Mummy, I don’t want you to call the police or the hospital, they have much more serious issues to deal with.”

“Oh ye of little faith. I promise, if I can’t find a solution I’ll call you back and you can drive into town, but if you don’t hear from me you stay at home, ok? Good. Call me if anything changes.”

And with that, she hang up. Still a bit disoriented, Anne gave Zara the pill and returned to her spot on the armchair, trusting her mother to do the right thing and not send Ibuprofen via helicopter.

The afternoon passed between Donald Duck tapes, drawing, reading, playing, napping, but by the time Zara’s dinner was over there was still no sign of...whatever Elizabeth had planned, and Anne was becoming a bit antsy, so much that she actually jumped when the doorbell rang.

She launched herself down the stairs and to the door, where she found herself face to face with Tim Laurence, her mother’s equerry, Anne’s own confident and friend for the last 6 months and the object of very inappropriate thoughts and feelings.

“Tim, what the fuck...Oh bother, come and say hello to Zara, she’ll be happy to see you. The fever is not back yet, but I’ll give her a pill anyway. She is very sleepy and I don’t want to wake her up later; and then, you have some explaining to do.”

Zara was indeed happy to see him, but after taking the medicine she fell asleep in a matter of minutes, so Anne sent him to the living room while she called her mother.

“Dear, has Commander Laurence arrived? I had him drive your car, the one you left here last time, so if he isn’t already there it shouldn’t be long anyway.”

“He is here, but Mummy how could you ask this of him? He is your equerry, not a special messenger!”

“He was in my office when we were talking before, and he volunteered since he was going out of London anyway. He wants to depart immediately, but I’d much rather he stayed there for the night, the weather is only going to get worse. Can you convince him?”

“He’s not going anywhere, I can guarantee it. I’ll phone again in the morning, now let me say hello to Peter. And thank you Mummy, for everything.”

Her son was very brief, too busy playing with his grandfather, so after a very short conversation Anne entered the living room, ready to give that impossible, lovely man a piece of her mind for doing something as crazy as driving in a blizzard to get her sick child Ibuprofen.

That night, as the clock struck midnight and heralded Valentine’s Day, Anne and Tim kissed for the first time.

* * *

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER

This was a very sweet little fic. I liked that everything about her plan went wrong, and of course Timmy to the rescue, saving the day made me squee. Very in character I imagine. Is the next part gonna be called Fire? Will things get 🔥? Will Mark actually make it back and ruin things?

#fANNEfiction #my little shipper heart cant take all of these fresh stories #i am very appreciative to all of you that are posting/submitting fics #i will go down with this ship #i hope she never finds this blog #also #both that were submitted had sick people in them #and i am sick atm #👀#coAnnecidAnnece #submission

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quicksilversquared · 6 years ago

Text

A Frozen Supervillain

Snowstorms can be a pain. Roads get slippery and impassable, power lines get knocked down, and houses get cold as freezing, howling winds wind around them. Still, they can be fun, too, when friends are around.

In which karma (or a winter storm) deals out punishment to some, and rewards to others.

links in the reblog

A light snow had just started falling when Gabriel headed up to his lair, partly in anticipation of angry drivers sliding on the slick roads and disgruntled pedestrians trying to walk home in the snow, and partly to get out of earshot of the infernal giggling coming from Adrien and his friends as they worked on a school project in the dining room.

"But Master, the brooch hasn't activated," Nooroo protested as the elevator moved down, over, and then went up, up, up, ascending into the lair with a smooth mechanical whirr. "We'll just be waiting."

"That's fine. There should be a proper candidate soon enough. This weather draws ire out." The floor above opened up, and they ascended the last short bit and then came to a stop. Gabriel stepped off of the elevator at once, dusting a small bit of invisible lint off of his shoulder as he did. "And if I'm already up here, then I'll be able to respond right away. I won't have to worry about Adrien sticking his head into the office when I need to get up here."

Adrien, or any of his little friends. That Ladyblogger was far more nosy than Gabriel was comfortable with and to be honest he would rather not have her in his home at all, but it was really hard to come up with a reason for saying no to having Adrien's friends over when it was for a school project, not without sounding like an insane person.

Nooroo said nothing. Gabriel chose to ignore him, turning to impatiently face the window. It was open a crack, but only the dimmest of light crept in.

The dimmest of light, and a light sprinkling of snow, along with a chilly breeze. The heaters that Gabriel had had installed along the edges of the space cranked up, keeping him plenty warm as he waited. The light from outside dimmed further as the storm worsened, and his baseboard lights clicked on, illuminating the lair in an eerie glow.

Gabriel was ready to go. The question was- how long would it be before a decent candidate showed up?

Groupwork had rarely been so much fun. The four of them worked well as a team, being fairly productive with their time but also having fun while completing the project. Adrien grinned as he added another sentence to their slideshow, unable to resist the urge to laugh at the subtle pun that Marinette had managed to work in.

"We are not punning in a research project!" Alya protested over the sound of the others laughing. "Come on guys, there has to be some way to say that differently. People won't know if we're being serious or joking around with that in there."

"It'll probably go over most people's heads unless we emphasize it," Nino pointed out reasonably. "But we'll know that it's there. Besides, I don't think that you'll be able to persuade these two jokers to drop it now."

Alya just groaned.

"Oh, look at the snow," Marinette interrupted suddenly, sounding worried. "It's really coming down, isn't it?"

Adrien whipped around to look at the window and sure enough, it was really white outside. Like, can't-see-more-than-a-meter white. Dangerously white.

"There's no way that my parents will want to drive in that," Nino commented, frowning as he peered out the window. "Absolutely no way. It would be dangerous."

"Maybe it'll let up?" Alya suggested, hopping up to look out at the wall of white. "I mean, the roads will still be awful, but it's not like they'll have to drive far?"

Adrien made a face at that as he pulled up the weather on his phone. It would still be dangerous to go out driving right after a blizzard like this ended, since the snowplows wouldn't have had a chance to get out, but maybe it would only be like this for a short while.

Those hopes were immediately dashed, though, as the page loaded and Adrien could see just how long it was meant to snow. His frown deepened as he scrolled down the page, looking at the hour-by-hour forecast. "It's supposed to keep snowing for a couple hours. There's been a warning out, but we apparently just missed seeing it."

"Probably because we haven't been looking at our phones." Marinette was looking at her own phone, a frown on her face. "Maman and Papa only just texted me ten minutes ago. They said that everyone is off the roads now. The alert went out early enough that not many people were trapped."

They all jumped as the front door opened and the Gorilla came in, covered in snow. He saw them staring and shook his head.

He might not have said anything, but the meaning was clear: he wasn't going to be driving anyone home tonight.

"Wait, why was he out?" Nino wanted to know as the Gorilla headed out of sight. "He would have been watching the forecast, right?"

"And Nathalie would have, too," Adrien said as realization hit him. "He was probably escorting her home. She lives close by, so they probably walked, but I bet that he wanted to make sure that she was visible in the snow."

Alya frowned. "If they were watching the forecast, why didn't they warn us? If we could have made it home before the storm hit…"

Adrien shrugged. Who knew, really. Maybe Nathalie had assumed that their parents were on the way, or that the storm wouldn't get quite so bad so quickly, or maybe she had forgotten that the four of them were there at all- which was entirely a possibility, if she had closed the door to the office and been focused on emails or papers or something. "I don't know. But I do know that we're meant to have dinner served soon," he added, glancing at the clock. "I'll run down to the kitchen and check to make sure that our chef is still here and we haven't been left to fend for ourselves."

The chef was, in fact, still there. He pointed to a large pot of macaroni and cheese heating on the stove and the loaf of garlic bread in the oven. There would be a salad as well, and as soon as that was ready it would all be brought up, with a light fruit salad with cream for dessert.

"If we could have it in serving bowls instead of individual portions, that would be great," Adrien told him. He had seen how much Nino could put away, so it was good that their chef had made plenty. "We can serve ourselves."

"Of course."

Adrien headed back upstairs, checking his phone with a frown as he did. The forecast hadn't changed at all since he had last checked- not that he had thought that it would, really- and the snow wouldn't stop until late. That meant that his friends were stuck here for the night, since their parents couldn't pick them up and the Gorilla wasn't going to drive them home. That wasn't a bad thing- Adrien had never been to a sleepover before, so it would be fun to experience that- but with Nathalie gone, Adrien wasn't entirely sure where the extra blankets and pillows were stashed. There were ones in the guest room, of course, but the chef and the Gorilla would probably take up those beds.

….maybe the Gorilla could point him to the closet of blankets and pillows? They had to have one somewhere, right?

"Food is nearly done," Adrien reported as he re-entered the dining room. "It'll be up soon, so maybe we want to finish up for now?"

"And continue after dinner, maybe?" Alya suggested. "Or we could play some games, but as long as we're here, we might as well get as much done as we can. It was hard enough to get this meeting set up."

Adrien winced. That had been largely his fault, and he knew it. Between photoshoots, akuma attacks, and all of his assorted lessons and activities, it was hard to find an extended period of time to get together. "That sounds like a good idea. We're most of the way done anyway, aren't we?"

Alya nodded. "Just a few more things to add, and then we have to polish it up."

Adrien opened his mouth to respond, then paused and frowned when the lights flickered and went out. Seconds later, though, they came back on as a low rumble started up from the basement.

"Power's out," he realized. "That's our generator going now. I'm going to go close the storm windows in my room," he added. "Normally I don't bother to close all of them because our heaters are really good, but I don't want to overwork the generator."

"Wait, you keep windows open during the winter?" he heard Nino ask as he trotted out of the dining room "Dude?"

"He said storm windows, Nino," Marinette's exasperated voice explained. "The outer windows that people have so that not so much heat escapes during the winter. Not the regular windows."

"Oh, that's a good idea. Dude's room is, like, eighty percent windows."

"It's a good thing you have that generator," Plagg commented as Adrien hurried towards his room. "It gets used a lot, doesn't it?"

Adrien frowned. He didn't think it was, but maybe he just didn't notice. "Does it?"

"During akuma attacks, yeah. Power lines get interrupted pretty often." Plagg yawned. "I guess you wouldn't notice if you aren't here when the power flickers."

"I'm surprised that you do notice. I thought that you only noticed cheese." Adrien trotted into his room and headed for the hidden switchboard for his window. He only had two storm windows open, it turned out, for the two windows that he used most often as Chat Noir. There was a window open in the bathroom, too, and he got that closed. The storm window descended from a hidden compartment above the window, sliding down until it clicked into place.

Hopefully there wouldn't be any akuma attacks overnight. Having to take the time to open the storm windows would just slow his exit, and having all three of his friends there meant that it would be really likely for people to notice if he vanished.

Also, he really didn't want to go outside right now. Fighting in this weather would suck. Rooftops would be slippery, visibility would be awful, and the gusts of wind would throw off his leaps and attacks.

Room ready, Adrien headed back down to the dining room. The chef had already been by, apparently, because four places were set up at the table and trivet mats were set out in anticipation of the serving dishes. Marinette and Alya were putting away the last of their books for their project while Nino got their computers plugged in and charging out of the way in a corner of the dining room.

"I'm glad that your chef didn't go for anything super fancy," he told Adrien, grinning. "I was worried that we would get, like, some highbrow dish that I couldn't even pronounce, and then he came up and told us that it's macaroni and cheese. I love macaroni and cheese. My mom makes this version of it that has potatoes in with the pasta, and it's amazing."

Adrien shook his head with a laugh. "You and your potatoes, dude. But nah, he's good with doing regular dishes. Really good versions of regular dishes, sure, but I was a picky enough eater as a kid that he knows not to make anything fancy unless my father requests it specifically."

The chef entered the room again, pushing a cart in front of him. He unloaded it, setting the large bowl of macaroni out first, and then adding the garlic bread, lettuce salad, and then the four servings of fruit salad. "Food is ready!"

"This looks delicious," Adrien was sure to tell him. "Thank you!"

"Leftovers can be left on the table, and I'll come up in an hour or so to clean," the chef told him. "Enjoy!"

They tucked in eagerly. Adrien was glad that the chef had made so much, because as it turned out, all of his friends had large appetites. He briefly wondered if perhaps his father would join them, but judging by the light spilling out under the door of his father's office, he had decided to take his meal in there by himself.

Adrien… was not disappointed, honestly. If his father had joined them in the dining room, it would have made the entire atmosphere of the room tense and stifled. Without him there, his friends were free to joke and laugh as much as they wanted.

And they wanted to joke and laugh a lot. The meal was definitely one of the best ones Adrien had ever had, just because of the company.

When they were nearly through with the meal, the generator spluttered. They all looked up in unison, just in time for it to stop. The power went out with a click, plunging them all into the dark.

"Uh-oh," Alya said nervously. "Uh, Adrien, I don't suppose that you have a backup for your backup generator?"

"No," Adrien said, frowning in the direction of the now-silent generator. "No, I don't think we do."

There weren't any potential akuma victims. How were there no potential akuma victims?

Gabriel scowled as he stood in the middle of his lair. This was absolutely ridiculous. The roads had to be a mess, he was sure of it. And the power was clearly out for their area, if the flickering lights earlier was anything to go by. How was no one upset enough about any of that to be akumatizeable?

It was insanity.

Nooroo was huddled near the baseboard heaters, staying warm enough that he would be able to transform in case a target ever showed up. Gabriel was starting to wonder if it wouldn't be a good idea for him to do the same. After all, despite the work that he had had done on the dome, it was still metal and didn't have the best insulation in the world. All of the space between the outer roof and the inner wall had been filled with his missiles and machinery, which held very little heat.

At least he had the backup generator. Their electricity would keep running for the whole night, keeping them warm enough to not be entirely uncomfortable and making sure Gabriel wouldn't get trapped up in the lair.

The thought had only just passed through his head when the lights flickered and died, leaving Gabriel in total darkness. Below, the faint hum of the generator had stopped.

"Master, I think the generator died," Nooroo commented, as though that weren't completely and utterly obvious.

"I see that," Gabriel snapped, already irritated. "I'm sure that Nathalie will deal with it quickly. I don't know how it died, though. We keep it fueled up."

"But power has gone out during akuma attacks," Nooroo pointed out. "So it's not like it never gets used."

Gabriel's expression and stomach dropped as he realized that Nooroo was right. Their generator got routine maintenance once a year, after winter was over. It got refueled after being used overnight during winter storms. But short outages- like what would happen during akuma attacks- never prompted any work with the generator. It was too much fiddling to warrant a small top-up every single time.

But even short uses added up, when they were as frequent as they had been.

"I'll text Nathalie," Gabriel decided, pulling out his phone. It was running low on battery, which was frustrating, but it had enough juice to exchange a few texts. "She can find more fuel and fill the machine back up. We might not have much, but surely there's enough gas in the garage to run the generator for half an hour or something. If I can get back downstairs, that'll be good enough." He would have to drop the idea of akumatizing someone that night, but that was fine. In the future, he would be more prepared.

Text sent, Gabriel paced back and forth to stay warm. Now that the electricity was off and the baseboard heaters were off, the lair was fast becoming chilly.

It was strange that Nathalie hadn't responded yet. Normally when she was at work, she responded to his text within minutes.

…..if she was at work. Surely she hadn't left yet, not with Adrien's friends still there? Unless she was escorting the teens home, in which case…

Well, conditions on the road would be slow-going, he could tell that much from the limited view that he got from inside the lair. How slow-going he wasn't sure- his view wasn't that good- but surely she would check her phone as soon as she got back to the house.

So he waited.

"Nooroo, go check the office," Gabriel ordered after ten minutes had passed with no response and no sign of the generator getting restarted. "See if Nathalie is there. If she's returning Adrien's friends to their houses, her coat will be gone but her purse will still be there. Just wait for her return."

"Of course, Master."

A quiet pop told Gabriel that he was alone. He was shivering now, the last lingering heat in the lair leaving quickly. He continued pacing, doing his best to stay warm. As he paced, he tried not to think about worst-case scenarios.

If Nathalie was downstairs, she would have already dealt with the problem. So she was either in the car… or already gone home.

But surely she wouldn't have gone home with him still upstairs? She normally at least waited for him to return to the office. Gabriel's pacing picked up.

Something had to give. Nathalie would come back, or the Gorilla would fill the generator as soon as he returned. Maybe the electrical company would do an emergency run to get the power up again.

Hopefully it would happen soon.

(Two blocks away, Nathalie was already asleep in bed. She had been working hard, after all, and there was no shame in taking advantage of an early night, as mandated by the weather.

The next morning, she would wake up to thirty-seven texts from Mr. Agreste, all progressively more panicked before cutting off completely, and the feeling of rest from her full night of sleep would flee completely as she scrambled to reply and head back over to the mansion.

After all, it simply wouldn't do to tick off Mr. Agreste by ignoring him. If she wasn't fired already, she would have to act quickly to save her job.)

It didn't take the Gorilla long to appear in the dining room with flashlights. He handed them out to each of the teens, looking somber.

Apparently the generator had run out of gas, and they didn't have any extra in the house. And, naturally, it was impossible to go out and get more. They would have to do without power for the night.

"Well, I guess we're not going to do any more work on the project," Alya said, looking excited. "We can find board games or something to do!"

Adrien winced. "I'm not sure if I have board games."

"Dude."

"Well, our computers do all have good batteries on them," Marinette pointed out reasonably. "We could finish our project, but just use one computer instead of several. And then we could use a different computer to play a movie or something. They'll all be out of battery by the time we go to bed, but…"

"Let's do that," Adrien agreed. There probably were board games somewhere in the house, but he didn't want to look. Not in the dark. There were too many places to get lost, and Adrien didn't want his father to stumble across them and get mad about them being somewhere where they weren't meant to be. Besides, there were areas of the mansion that looked absolutely creepy in the dark. "Get our project finished, and then we can goof off and not feel bad about it."

"When did the two of you get so weirdly responsible?" Despite his words, Nino didn't sound too upset as he set up his flashlight next to his plate so that it would shine light across the table. "I'm fine with doing that, I guess."

Adrien grinned. "And Alya?"

"We might need to look some stuff up once the internet comes back on and add it in, but it makes sense to do as much as we can."

The four of them lingered over dinner, taking their time before finishing up and leaving their dishes in a neat pile for the chef to take back downstairs. Alya, Marinette, and Nino all sent quick texts off to their families, letting them know that they would have to stay the night at Adrien's place, and then they tromped up the stairs to his room to finish their work, laptops under one arm and flashlights in the other hand. The lights bounced around the large room, corners illuminated one seconds and black the next.

Outside the windows, it was white.

"Yeah, we're not going anywhere until the streets are plowed," Nino commented as soon as they entered Adrien's room, making a beeline for the windows and peering out. His flashlight glinted off of the glass. "I don't think I've ever seen a storm this bad."

"If it weren't for the weather forecast predicting it, I would have thought that it was an akuma," Alya agreed, peering over Nino's shoulder. "At least we didn't get stuck at the library or something."

"Yeah, we get equipped with food, flashlights, and blankets here," Marinette said, nodding towards Adrien's bed. He turned to look, and sure enough- a whole mountain of blankets had been piled on his bed, along with several pillows. Clearly the Gorilla had predicted what they would need and had already been by. "The heat might be off, but we'll be plenty cozy."

It didn't take long for them to get settled down with Alya's laptop and a few notebooks with their notes about the project. With a deadline- the computer battery wouldn't last forever, after all, and neither would the flashlights- the last few pieces fell into place quickly and they even got in a practice run of their presentation before Alya announced that she had to save everything and shut her computer down, or else risk it running too low on battery and turning itself off.

"Movie time!" Nino announced, stretching and cracking his back before settling back down in his seat. "I volunteer my laptop, since it has the largest screen. What movies do you have, Adrien?"

"Oh, everything," Adrien told him, grinning. "C'mon, I'll show you guys. I've got an insane collection."

Gabriel was going slightly mad, he was sure of it. Trapped in the dark lair, no light at all- his phone had died after a series of only slightly panicked texts to Nathalie- in the increasingly chilly space, he had no way out. Without electricity, the elevator wouldn't run. Without the elevator, there was no way to get back down into the main house, not unless he wanted to try to force the metal shutters on the window open, break the glass, and try to climb down.

He should have installed an emergency staircase after all. Nathalie had told him to, back when he had the elevator put in, but he hadn't wanted to do that. The more entrances there were, the more chances there were of someone (namely Adrien) accidentally stumbling across it and figuring him out. But he could have figured out some way to hide the stairs effectively enough that no one would notice a thing, surely.

Nooroo had returned an hour prior with the news that Nathalie had evidently gone home. Now the kwami was shivering somewhere on the floor of the lair, probably feeling as frozen as Gabriel.

This wouldn't have been a problem if- well if pretty much anything had gone differently. If Nathalie hadn't gone home. If the staff had done their jobs properly and thought to refill the generator on a regular basis, since it was being used frequently. If there had been an adequate akuma victim, even. Nathalie wouldn't have gone home then, and she would have thought of a solution to the problem.

But none of that had happened, and so Gabriel shivered.

And shivered, and shivered. His teeth chattered as he tried to will the electricity back into existence. His thoughts were becoming muddled and circling as he waited, trying not to let the dark get to him.

The dark would not bother him. He was stronger than the cold. He was a supervillain, and that super meant that he should be better, less susceptible than the average person.

Except he wasn't transformed right now. That- that could be fixed, and then he would be fine. Uncomfortable, maybe- he would have to sleep eventually unless he kept himself up by pacing the entire night, and the floor was not comfortable- but fine.

"Nooroo!" Gabriel barked, uncovering his brooch. "Transform me!"

"But Maste-" Nooroo started, but his unbearable babbling was cut off as he was pulled into the pin and Gabriel transformed. He had one moment of triumph before unbearable cold gripped his bones, turning them to ice. Hawkmoth fell to his knees, gasping for breath and only finding the chilled winter air to fill his lungs. All thoughts were cut off as he hyperfocused on the one thing overwhelming his thoughts.

Cold. Cold. Cold.

Freezing.

The four teens had piled into a little nest of blankets and pillows on Adrien's couch, all snuggled together for warmth. While the storm windows had kept in most of the heat, the Agreste mansion was never kept that warm to start with and it had been several hours since the power shut off.

But they didn't care. The movie played on Nino's computer, set up in front of them on Adrien's coffee table, and the four of them were sitting close enough together that they could share body heat and stay toasty warm. The Gorilla had stuck his head in to check on them at one point, and had come back ten minutes later with two huge bowls of popcorn for them to share.

Apparently their gas-powered stove still worked, which was good. They could still make food, though they would probably have fewer options of what to cook with since some of the ingredients were likely to spoil after the fridges and freezers were out for several hours.

"I'd ask about another movie, but I am exhausted," Nino announced as their movie drew to a close. "And my computer is about to die, too."

"Time for bed, then?" Adrien suggested, leaning forward to collect the emptied popcorn bowls and setting them aside. "I think I have enough extra pajamas, but they might be a bit big."

Marinette groaned, cuddling further into the blankets- and, coincidentally, into Adrien's side. "Don't wanna move."

Adrien laughed as he settled back down next to her. "Marinette, if you don't move now, you're never going to get up."

"Ugh."

"I'm gonna get ready while I still have the motivation to move," Nino announced. "So, what's the plan for sleeping?"

Adrien thought about it. Normally at a sleepover, everyone would probably have their own pajamas and toothbrushes and maybe even sleeping bags, but they didn't have that. People probably wouldn't want to sleep on the floor, so… "Could we all fit on my bed? It'll be warmer that way."

Marinette let out a quiet squeak, but didn't actually look opposed to the suggestion when Adrien glanced at her. Of course, it was kind of dark in the room, so it was possible that he was reading her wrong.

"Sure, we could do that," Nino agreed, exchanging a glance with Alya. "And washing up? We could probably just do the old toothpaste on a finger trick if you tell us where to find it."

"No, no, I have plenty of toothbrushes! They're just in the cabinets under the sink," Adrien hastily assured them. "And I have combs under there, too. And my extra pajamas should be there, too."

"Righty-o." Nino extracted himself from the tangle of blankets, reaching for his flashlight and flicking it on. Shadows were thrown up the walls of Adrien's room, dancing as Nino wriggled out of the tangle of blankets. "Dibs on the bathroom. I'll be fast, promise."

Adrien nodded, settling back into the warmth of the blankets. He could tell how much his room had cooled down already, and suspected that it would be pretty chilly by morning. Having all four of them in a pile in his bed….

His inner cat purred at the thought. It would no doubt stay nice and cozy there, and none of them would want to get up in the morning.

As promised, Nino managed to be pretty fast. He was out of the bathroom in only a few minutes, freshly dressed in an extra pair of pajamas.

"I put out stuff for everyone else, too," Nino reported, his flashlight bobbing closer to the couch as he watched. "I figured that it would be faster that way, 'cause it was dumb luck that I found some of that stuff as quickly as I did."

"Sweet!" Alya hopped up next with flashlight in hand, accidentally jostling Marinette in the process. "I'm next!"

"You can go after her," Adrien told the half-asleep lump of blankets next to him. "And then I'll finish up?"

"Mmph."

"Same order in bed that we were on the couch?" Nino called over as his flashlight bobbed closer to the bed. "Does that sound all right?"

Adrien considered that. It would put him and Nino on the outside and Alya and Marinette in the middle. While it would probably be warmer in the middle, Adrien was fine with being on the outer edge. He always seemed to be running a little warmer than usual, and poor Marinette seemed to get chilled easily. "Sounds good to me!"

"I second that!" Alya called as she headed towards the bathroom. "I am so glad that your room is so clean right now, Adrien, because I think my flashlight is getting dimmer and I hate it when I trip over stuff on the floor in the dark."

"We could trade," Nino offered from the bed. "Mine was still working pretty well."

"Eh, I'll survive. I'll be fast."

"Are you still with us, Mari?" Adrien asked in amusement as Alya's dim light headed into the bathroom and the lumpy blankets next to him leaned against him even more. "Just a few more minute, and then you can wash up. And then you can sleep."

"Just wake her up when it's her turn," Nino suggested. His flashlight had been turned off, which suggested that he had gotten situated in bed. "Or wake her up now, and we can move all of the blankets over on the bed."

Adrien had honestly forgotten that that was something they had to do. "Are any of them left over there?"

"A couple." There was some shuffling around. "Like, three? But I'm pretty sure that we have six and some pillows over there."

"Right, I'll move them." Adrien wriggled his way out of the tangle of blankets, reaching back to give Marinette's shoulder a gentle shake. "C'mon, Marinette. Help me with these?"

Marinette grumbled some more, but eventually crawled out to help Adrien haul the blankets over to his bed and drape them across. One blanket stayed wrapped around her shoulders like a cape, warding off the chill. She tripped over it several times, but somehow managed to catch herself each time, only dropping the flashlight in her hand once.

Adrien wasn't sure how, really. She looked really sleepy, which by all accounts meant that in theory she should have had slower reflexes. Adrien was glad that she wasn't wiping out on the floor, really, but he wished that he had those reflexes when tired and fighting akuma.

"I'm out," Alya announced as the bathroom door opened and the dimming light of her flashlight appeared. "And just FYI for anyone who hadn't figured it out already, there isn't any hot water. It's all freezing cold."

Nino laughed at that. "Yeah, the boiler runs on electricity, presumably. Of course it's going to be cold."

"How large of an area do you think has been affected by the power outage?" Adrien asked as Marinette shuffled towards the bathroom. He snagged her blanket from her as she passed. "If there's more people, the company is more likely to respond sooner, right?"

"I think they have to wait for the storm to end no matter what," Nino told him as Alya clambered into bed. Her flashlight was nearly dead now, only casting a faint glow as she settled down. "And then yeah, they probably go for the areas with the largest outages first. But I bet that the Gorilla will probably go out and buy gas for the generator as soon as the streets have been cleared, so you'll probably get power back before the rest of the neighborhood."

"It's too bad we didn't get stuck at Marinette's house," Alya commented, switching her flashlight off and passing it to Nino to set on the ground alongside the bed. "Her family has a generator, too, because of the bakery. And I know that they've been refilling it pretty regularly, because I heard Mr. Dupain talking about it last time I was over there."

Adrien frowned, puzzled. "Because of the bakery? What, are their ovens electric instead of gas?"

"No, dude, because of the fridges," Nino explained. "They have butter and eggs and milk and creams and everything in the fridges, and those have to stay cold or else get thrown out. And then if the power goes out in the morning, when they're mixing up the doughs, all of their mixers and rolling machines and everything would go out if they didn't have backup power."

"As you can probably tell, Nino has been in the proper bakery part of the bakery," Alya told Adrien dryly. "The back kitchens. I've not been yet, mostly because there's never been a reason for me to be back there."

"It sounds interesting," Adrien commented. He had to admit that he was pretty curious. "So the generator goes up to the rest of the house too, then?"

"Yeah, but they're always careful to not use too much electricity in the house, since people probably wouldn't notice if the generator went out during the night." Adrien heard more than saw Nino shrug. "That mostly means no TV or electronics, really. And turning lights off that they don't need. All common-sense stuff, really."

"And my parents always check the fuel level before going to bed," Marinette added, and Adrien jumped. He hadn't realized that she had come out of the bathroom. "Just in case. It would be really expensive if the fridges went down and we had to throw stuff away."

"I'm surprised that your father doesn't do the same," Nino told Adrien. "That just seems like something he would be really strict about, you know?"

Adrien couldn't hold back the snort. "He's strict about everything, but I know what you mean. My guess is that he assumed that the staff would take care of it. I'd be surprised if someone doesn't get fired tomorrow." He glanced over at Marinette and grinned. His friend was swamped by the pajamas. "I'm sorry I didn't have anything smaller, Marinette."

"This is fine," Marinette said through a yawn. She ambled towards the bed, the legs of the pajamas- folded up, but still long- dragging on the floor behind her as she walked. "They're comfy."

"Just don't trip," Adrien cautioned her as he picked up his flashlight again and headed for the bathroom. "I'll be right back!"

His bathroom looked so different shrouded in shadows. The flashlight threw odd shapes against the wall as Adrien washed up quickly, changing out of his day clothes and into pajamas. The water from the tap was freezing- he was glad for Alya's warning, because Adrien totally would have tried to wash his face in the sink without thinking about it and ended up with a frozen nose. When he was nearly done, Plagg floated in.

"Oh, your cheese is going to spoil, isn't it?" Adrien realized as soon as he saw his kwami. "Drat. Sorry about that, I'll get more soon."

"There's not that much left," Plagg told him. "And it can't spoil if I eat it!"

Adrien tried not to sigh at that. Plagg was impossible, he really was. "I suppose that's true."

"And I can get to it just fine, so no worries there," Plagg added. "It's not ideal sitting somewhere cold and dark to eat, but your room is like that now too, isn't it?"

"It is, a bit," Adrien admitted. "Though there is some light from outside and some lingering heat. There's not much of either, though."

Plagg gave him a sharp look. "Will you be okay?

"Aww, you do care about me!" Adrien grinned at the disgruntled look on Plagg's face. "I knew it!"

"Look, kid, I was trying to be nice-"

"I'll be fine," Adrien assured him, becoming more serious. He couldn't deny that he was a little bit worried, since the mansion was large and always felt a bit on the chilly side even when the heat was on, but if things got really bad, maybe they could make it over to Marinette's place and stay there instead. The Gorilla wouldn't let them freeze. "We have flashlights, and between the four of us and all of the blankets that we have, we'll be warm enough. There's no way that we won't be."

Plagg sniggered and zipped around Adrien's head as he started to brush his hair. "Uh-huh. You'll enjoy that, won't you? You'll be sleeping next to your girlfriend. Maybe you can even snuggle!"

"Just because Marinette said that she was in love with Chat Noir doesn't make her my girlfriend, Plagg," Adrien said with a sigh, pushing his hair back out of his face. It had turned messy now that it was knocked out of its normal style "I turned her down, remember? We're friends."

"Friends to lovers is the best trope, though! Isn't that what you said when you were reading fanfiction about that anime?"

Adrien chose not to dignify that with a response.

With the chill spurring him on, it didn't take long for Adrien to finish up in the bathroom and hurry back to the bed. Even breathing told him that someone had dropped off already, so he was careful not to jostle the bed too much as he crawled in next to Marinette.

"G'night, Adrien," Marinette murmured sleepily as he settled down and turned off his flashlight, plunging the room into darkness. Adrien smiled over at her, even though she wouldn't be able to see it.

"Good night, Marinette."

The wind howled outside and the snow continued to fall, but the bed was cozy and warm. Adrien snuggled in, pulling the blankets up high around his head.

This was the best way to spend a cold night, it really was.

On top of the house, Hawkmoth was left in a huddled lump, shivering and spitting out curses whenever he could pull together his thoughts for long enough to vocalize anything at all. The floor was ice, the air not much better.

It truly was the worst kind of place to be during a snowstorm, Hawkmoth decided during one of his few moments of clarity as he shivered and shook. No heat, no warmth, nothing at all. He was freezing cold, and it would be dangerous to stop moving at all. But it would take so much energy.

Do not sleep. Do not sleep. Do. Not.

...sleep.

(The next morning, after an emergency order of gas was delivered and the generator was up and running again, Nathalie would find Gabriel on the floor of the lair, shivering and unresponsive. He had detransformed partway through the night after Nooroo's powers gave out, robbing him of his largest protection against the cold. Both man and kwami would get sick, Gabriel with a cold and other side effects from his brush with hypothermia, and Nooroo going down ill because of the long exposure to cold. It would be over a month until Hawkmoth attacked again as kwami and human recovered, time which Ladybug and Chat Noir would take advantage of to train and learn how to access and use some new powers, and Gabriel would never really recover all the feeling in his hands and feet.

But for now Hawkmoth slept uneasily, delirium from the cold dragging him under. Frost formed on the floor under his cheeks, moisture from his breath freezing only seconds after it left his lungs. Frostbite nipped at his fingertips, waiting for skin to be revealed and vulnerable to the cold once more.)

In Adrien's bedroom, cozy under three layers of blankets and with a stomach stuffed full of cheese, Plagg smirked as he nestled down under Adrien's pillow with Tikki. It probably sounded strange, since there was a round and a half of cheese left in the mini-fridge right now that could easily spoil before morning, but Plagg was rather pleased with himself at the moment.

The rest of the house would no doubt assume that the generator's fuel had run out naturally because of the frequent use during akuma attacks, which was partially true. It had run low, but it had also been given a small helping hand to completely run out when it did.

Because Plagg had been sensing Nooroo in the house recently, on a very frequent basis. Once he properly paid attention, it hadn't taken much to figure out that Adrien's father was Hawkmoth. The man clearly didn't care that he was endangering his own son with the akuma attacks, far too focused on his goals to mind. It had made Plagg boil to bring him to justice.

But Ladybug and Chat Noir weren't ready to face off with Hawkmoth yet, and Adrien wasn't ready to deal with that kind of betrayal from his father. Even though it would be better for Paris if Hawkmoth was stopped immediately, Plagg knew from past experience that it was unwise to rush into major confrontations without being properly prepared. Doing such things tended to result in- well, supremely unpleasant things.

Still, there was nothing that said that Plagg couldn't mess with Hawkmoth in the meantime. When he had sensed the hidden elevator headed upwards in the middle of a snowstorm, Plagg had decided to jump on the opportunity to cause a little havoc and destroyed most of the remaining gas in the generator.

Hopefully Mr. Agreste knew how to deal with frostbite.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #Adrien Agreste #gabriel agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng

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softspideys · 7 years ago

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Snowstorm (Peter Parker x reader)

summary: when the heat goes out during a snowstorm, you and peter find a way to stay warm.

warnings: none

words: 2.5k

pairings: peter parker x reader

prompt: “We always share blankets on the couch, I’m sure sharing the bed for the night is fine too,” and “why’d you let go of me?” from this prompt list

a/n: shoutout to the anon who requested those prompts!!! hope you enjoy:)

“It’s really coming down out there,” Peter said worriedly, looking out the window for the millionth time that night.

“Peter,” you said with exasperation. “Step away from the window. It’s not gonna make the snow stop.”

“I know that,” Peter said with a scowl. The two of you were holed up in his apartment while his aunt and your parents were at a dinner party. May and your mom had been friends in college and stayed close after they graduated. As a result, you and Peter had grown up together.

“May will be fine, okay? She’s with my mom and dad,” you tried to reassure him. No sooner had the words left your lips when the phone rang. “See? I bet that’s her right now.”

Peter picked it up in a flash. “Hello? Hey May,” he said. You could see his entire body relax. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

As you watched him speak, you felt your own phone start to vibrate. It was your mom. “Hi Mom,” you said.

“Hi, honey,” your mom said. “How’s your night going?”

“Good. What’s up?”

“Well, not sure if you’ve looked out the window lately, but it’s snowing pretty bad out there,” your mom joked. “So it looks like we’re stuck here until they plow the roads.”

“Bummer,” you said, wincing.

“Oh, it’s no big deal. We’re among friends. I’m just worried about you. Are you alright with staying at the Parker’s for the night?”

You hadn’t thought about that. It made sense, obviously; the weather was too bad to drive in, much less walk home in. Of course you’d stay at Peter’s for the night. You just never had before.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you said.

“Good. You know what to do in case the power goes out?”

“Yup.”

“Okay. I’ll call you in the morning. Tell Peter I said hi.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too. Have fun.”

You hung up and turned back just as Peter was getting off the phone with May. “Okay. Yeah, I do. Yeah. I love you too. Bye.” You smiled a little at his words.

“Looks like you’re stuck here,” Peter said jokingly. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“I’ll live,” you said with a grin. “What do you want to do?”

“Might as well finish our movie, right?” Peter suggested. The two of you had been halfway through a movie when the loud wind made you realize just how bad the weather was outside.

The two of you sat down on the couch and Peter turned the movie back on. He picked the blanket you’d been sharing off the ground and tossed it over both of you. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you said. It was sort of an inside joke for the two of you to share a blanket whenever you sat on their couch; you’d been doing it ever since you were kids and had never stopped.

“Do you think the power will go out?” Peter asked. You detected a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“I doubt it,” you said, rubbing his shoulder. “The heat, though . . . that’s another story.”

He glanced down at your hand and you quickly removed it, clearing your throat. Once upon a time, small gestures like that wouldn’t have meant anything. But now that you were getting older and going through puberty and whatever, things were . . . weird.

You weren’t nearly as smart as Peter, so while you went to your local public high school, he was busy being a genius at Midtown. You didn’t get to see him as often as you used to, and it seemed like every time you did, he looked taller and more well-built than the last time. He was no longer the little boy you used to play Legos with, that was becoming evident.

As you watched the movie, you snuck glances at Peter every now and then, taking in the strong lines of his jaw and the way his hair curled behind his ears just so.

At one point, he looked at you out of the corner of his eye and noticed you staring. “What?” he asked, his cheeks flushing.

“Um, nothing,” you said quickly, feeling your own face burning. The two of you finished the movie in awkward silence.

You hadn’t noticed that you were subconsciously pulling the blanket closer to you until the end credits began to roll and you realized you could see your breath. “Um, I think the heat went out,” you said slowly.

Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh God. Are you kidding me?” He stood up, rubbing his arms.

“I think I jinxed it,” you said guiltily. “Sorry.”

“No, this happens at least once every winter,” Peter said, huffing. “The heat in this building sucks and the landlord won’t fix it.”

“We still have power, at least,” you said, trying to look on the bright side.

“Don’t jinx that too. Here, c’mon, let’s block all the windows so no drafts will get in.”

The two of you turned off all of your electronics and sealed the windows and doors. You opened the cabinet under the sink so the pipes wouldn’t freeze. The Parkers didn’t have a wood stove or a fireplace, but you found a space heater and plugged it in Peter’s room.

You were wearing just a long sleeved shirt and sweatpants, and had started to shiver a little. “Do you want one of my sweatshirts?” Peter asked.

“Oh, no, I’m okay,” you lied.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid. I mean, not that you’re stupid, you’re not, just . . . take my sweatshirt.” He pulled one out of his closet and tossed it to you before grabbing one for himself.

“Thanks,” you muttered. You pulled it on. The sleeves came down over your hands and it was a little big, but it was comfortable. You noticed Peter staring as you rolled the sleeves up before he cleared his throat and looked away.

It was getting late, and there was really nothing else to do but go to sleep. You were pretty tired anyway. “Okay, so you sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch,” Peter said decisively.

“What? No way, it’s freezing out there! Plus, this is literally your apartment!” you said. Peter’s room was being warmed by the only space heater, which meant that everywhere else in the apartment was cold.

“Yeah but you’re the guest. So you should sleep here. I’ll be fine.”

“Peter, you’re not sleeping out there.”

“Well, you’re not either!” The two of you glared at each other for a second. Peter was stubborn, but you were far worse and he knew it. “Fine,” he relented. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Oh my God. Look, why don’t we just share the bed?” you asked.

Peter blinked at you. “I—what?”

You tried to act nonchalant. “What? You’ll be freezing on the floor. The bed’s big enough. It’s not a big deal.”

“No, I—I know, I just—are you sure?” Peter asked nervously.

You nodded, hoping you didn’t look as embarrassed as you felt. “Yeah. We always share blankets on the couch, I’m sure sharing the bed for the night is fine too.”

“Uh, okay.”

The two of you awkwardly brushed your teeth and got ready for bed. Peter gestured for you to climb in first before he slid in next to you, keeping a safe distance between you. You had to admit, with the combined heat of the extra sweatshirt, the space heater, and Peter himself, you were pretty warm.

“Well,” Peter said stiffly. “Uh, good night.”

“Good night.”

You lay there in silence for a while. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force yourself to sleep, but it refused to come. You were exhausted, too, which just made it even more annoying. You listened to the sound of Peter breathing next to you and wondered if he’d managed to fall asleep.

You got your answer when he asked, “Are you still awake?”

“Yeah.” You both giggled and rolled over to face each other.

“I don’t get it,” you complained. “I’m so tired.”

“Me too,” he said. “I can’t get my brain to shut up.”

“Might as well kill some time,” you yawned, propping yourself up on your elbow.

The two of you talked for a while, filling each other in on your respective schools and friends. You asked him a few questions about his Stark internship, but he clammed up almost immediately.

“Sorry,” he said apologetically. “I just, you know, I’m not really supposed to talk about it.”

“Nah, I get it.” You waved him off. “But just tell me: have you met that Spider-guy?”

“Spider-Man? Um, yeah. Once or twice.”

“Is he nice? He seems so cool.”

“Yeah, he’s solid. Why, do you like him?” Peter’s voice sounded strange, but you chalked it up to him being tired.

“I mean, I don’t know what he looks like. And you know Captain America will always have my heart, war criminal or not,” you said teasingly. “But yeah, I don’t know.”

“Hmm.” Peter was quiet. Then, “I’ll find out if he’s single for you.”

You laughed, punching his shoulder. “Yeah, do that.”

Eventually the topic turned to college. You were coming up on the end of your junior year of high school, and it was all pretty much any adult in your life wanted to talk about.

“I still have no idea what I want to study,” you said with a sigh. “And I know I have some time but it’s just stressful.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Peter said. It didn’t sound dismissive like it did when other people said it; it sounded like he really meant it. “You’re great. You’re . . . awesome. No matter what you do, it’ll be the right thing.”

“Thanks,” you said, feeling your cheeks turning red again. Peter nodded, scratching his nose awkwardly, and you quickly tried to change the subject. “So, um, do you know where you’re gonna go?”

He made a face and shook his head. “Nah. I mean, Mr. Stark is always saying how he has some pull at MIT, but I don’t know. I don’t even know if I want to go to college.”

You sat up a little, looking at him incredulously. “What? What do you mean?”

“Well, MIT is too far, for starters,” he said defensively. “I can’t leave May. I won’t leave May.”

“So go somewhere local,” you said. “I’m sure you could get into Columbia or Fordham or NYU or something.”

“I just . . . I don’t think school is for me anymore. I got other stuff I wanna do, you know? And the more everyone tries to plan my future for me the less I want to go.”

You could understand that. “I know how that feels,” you said. “My mom and dad really want me to go to their alma mater. They won’t even consider the option of me going anywhere else. But it’s my life, you know? I can make my own decisions. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Yeah,” Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly. That’s it exactly it.”

“But,” you continued. “You’re so smart, Peter. You could do amazing things with that mind of yours if it was put to the right use.” He shrugged. “No, really. You’re like the smartest person I’ve ever met. The rest of the world deserves to see that.”

“Me,” Peter said flatly. “What’s so good about me?”

“Everything,” you said, with a little more force than necessary. “Everything. You deserve to be seen.”

He stared at you, his eyes wide. You closed your mouth immediately, cursing yourself for getting so carried away. But being in the dark, so close to him like this, made you feel vulnerable.

“Do you—do you really think that? About me?” Peter asked quietly. He sounded almost in awe.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding a little. “I’ve always thought that about you.”

He was silent. You could see the outline of his face, but you couldn’t tell what his expression was. It only made you even more nervous.

Suddenly, he inched forward, lifting his head a little. You did the same just in time for his lips to meet yours.

The heat was still off, but you were warm all over. There was something about kissing Peter Parker in the dark that made you feel like time had stopped and it was just the two of you existing. The snow howled outside, but inside you’d never felt calmer.

“Wow,” was the first thing Peter said.

You had to stifle your laugh into a pillow. “Wow what?”

“I just didn’t think—I just kissed you,” Peter said, like he couldn’t believe his luck.

You laughed for real this time. “Yeah.”

The two of you were quiet for a second, letting the magnitude of the situation sink in, before he said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t want to go to your parents’ alma mater. Where do you wanna go?”

You didn’t even need to think. “NYU.”

“Huh.” Peter hesitated. “I, uh. I liked NYU.”

You smiled slowly. “Did you?”

“Yeah. I think I might like it a lot better if you were there.”

“I think I would too.”

You could tell he was smiling even in the dark. “Good. That’s . . . that’s good.”

You moved closer, pressing a small kiss to his nose. “Good night, Peter.”

“Good night.”

This time, you fell asleep easily.

_____________________________________

When you woke up, it was to way too much heat. In addition to the sweatshirt and the space heater, Peter was curled up behind you, wrapped around you like a koala and snoring into your hair.

It was nice though, and you didn’t make any effort to move. A few minutes later, you felt him stir, and then he pulled away from you almost immediately.

“Hey,” you frowned. “Why’d you stop holding me?”

“I—I wasn’t sure if that was okay,” Peter said.

You rolled over to face him. He looked so adorable in the morning light, his hair messy and sticking up in odd directions. “Yeah, it’s okay,” you said with a grin. “You know, sharing body heat and all.”

“Oh, right,” Peter said sarcastically. He lifted his head to look out the window and let out a low whistle.

“How much did it snow last night?” you asked.

“Enough to have a snowball fight and beat you,” Peter said, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, you’re so on, Parker.” You got up, swinging your legs out of the bed and standing up.

“Hey, wait.” You stopped as Peter got up too. You looked at him questioningly as he came over to you, put his hands on either side of your face, and kissed you quickly.

You blinked, caught off guard, as he darted past you. “Last one outside has to buy breakfast!” he called over his shoulder.

“Hey, no fair!” Laughing, you chased him around the apartment.

Neither of you noticed that the heat was back on.

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storyboxlibrary · 6 years ago

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200 Stories. WOW!

Did you know that when we launched in 2013 we started with just 20 stories?

It would have seemed unimaginable that 5 years later, we would have a library that has grown so vast with a list of outstanding authors, illustrators and storytellers.

Of course, it’s all due to the phenomenal team behind Story Box Library who work exceptionally hard to give our valued subscribers such a superb range of quality Australian children’s literature in such an engaging and accessible way.

Our stories and storytellers are first rate, and there truly is something on Story Box Library for everyone.

Whether it’s Ali McGregor reading Tashi and bowling you over with her beautiful singing, or Andrew Hansen’s reading of What’s Wrong with the Wobbegong. Andrew’s voices are absolutely hilarious – just how does he remember each voice for the numerous characters in the story?

Possibly Boori Monty Pryor’s reading of his and Jan Ormerod’s book, Shake a Leg made your heart swell? After all, Boori is a master storyteller and an exceptional human being.

And speaking of master storytellers, Danny Katz’s readings of his and Mitch Vane’s Little Lunch stories are a delight. No matter how many times you watch these, Danny continues to make you laugh out loud.

But which stories are the favourite of the Story Box Library team?

Asked to choose only one favourite proved to be an almost impossible task, or in the words of our Educational Consultant, Jackie Small:

“OMG! I don't think you've ever set a harder task. I'm really having trouble. I love so many for so many different reasons. I THINK I've narrowed it down to Bella's Bad Hair Day, I Got this Hat or My Dead Bunny. BUT I NEED MORE TIME! I'm going to take a walk and clear my head and hopefully then I'll have one favourite for you!”

In the end we came up with a very special list of stories that have touched each member of our team in some way. In fact, Mat wanted two. Well, everyone did, but Mat was the only one who assumed I would add his second choice and sent it through to me anyway. Cheeky!

Nicole – Director/Founder

The Bunyip of Berkley’s Creek Read by Nick Cave

As a child, I adored this book and still consider it one of the best Australian picture books of all time. My adolescent years saw me as brooding, gothic teen enamoured with Nick Cave. His music continues to be a part of my life, with one of his songs being played at my and my husbands wedding. Nick Cave was hands down my ultimate storyteller. So imagine the shock and delight I experienced when Nick agreed to read this book for us. Our library has many, many wonderful stories, but nothing quite beats this perfect pairing. And Nick kissed me on both cheeks. Winner!

Mathew – Videographer

“Can I have 2?”

1. Rodney Loses it Read by Lyall Brooks

Sometimes we really nail the combination of the right book with the right reader. I love how Lyall brings all of Rodney’s craziness out. This was the first story we shot with Lyall and had no idea what we were going to get and about half way through I was just thinking, “OMG, OMG, OMG, this is great, this is great, this is great!”

2. The Queen with the Wobbly Bottom Read by Dolly Diamond

I’ve had so much fun shooting for Story Box library over the years and this shoot was absolutely hilarious, Dolly Diamond really brought the “Queen” to "The Queen” her voices are absolutely amazing. Her voice, especially for the Poet character is magical.

Del – School Liaison

Bear Make Den Read by Anne Edmonds

I love everything about this. From the simple and heart-warming story by Jane Godwin and Michael Wagner, to Anne Edmond's hilarious reading, costume and props, combined with Andrew Joyner's delightful illustrations, and the surprise bear party at the end, this story is truly divine.

Amy – Public Library Liaison

Home in the Rain Read by Zahra Newman

I love this story because it reminds me of driving in snowstorms when I was little. My dad always navigated his way through the fiercest of conditions with ease, making our family car seem like a haven of warmth, comfort and quiet togetherness despite what we witnessed outside. Zahra Newman’s reading of Home in the Rain takes me right back to those moments. Her voice is so peaceful and melodic, lending a contented feel to this sweet time between Francie and her mum.

Fiona – Production Manager

Mopoke Read by Tim Rogers

It goes without saying that Tim’s reading is absolutely hilarious and completely sublime (we were barely able to keep it together in the room while we were filming him!) but I also adore the simplicity of the book, as well as the brilliant way our videographer, Mat, edited it with the split screen. A first for Story Box Library!

Shannon – Videographer

The Brothers Quibble Read by Aaron Blabey

I just love this book and I always thought the way Aaron reads it is exactly the way he wrote it. You get to hear the characters come to life and his reading adds an extra layer to the book. From then on that's exactly how I read the book to my kids too.

Bronwen – Digital Manager

Hark, It's Me, Ruby Lee! Read by Isabella Clarke

Ruby was very high on our shortlist of baby names so we almost had our very own Ruby Lee! I love Ruby's imagination and sense of adventure, that she's eager to help out and try new things, and is a (mostly) great friend. Lisa Shanahan's story is great fun, Binny's beautiful illustrations and colour palette always catch my eye, and it's a lovely reading by storyteller Isabella Clarke.

Jo – Finance & Admin Manager

The Dark & the Ducklings Read by Darren Hanlon

Stephen Michael King and Glenda Millard are my favourite author/illustrator combination and I love this book. Lyrically written about a not so distant future, remembering the past, hope for the future and letting go. Watching the book being read, “sorry drops fell from my eyes” just like in the book. Darren’s reading is simple and warm, allowing the words to weave their magic. The story reminds us that there is always light in the dark.

Jen – Publisher Liaison

When The Wind Changed Read by Colin Lane

I have vivid memories of borrowing and re-borrowing this book from my primary school library, it is one of my all-time laugh out loud childhood picture book favourites.

Seeing those familiar illustrations after all those years, while watching and listening to the story being told with such animation (those expressions!) by Colin Lane, I got totally swept up and felt like a kid again!

Jackie – Educational Consultant

I Got This Hat Read by Anne Edmonds

I just love the way we brought this short and sweet story to life on the digital screen with clever filming and editing, sound effects and an expressive storyteller (who’s such a good sport too). This story segment is also a fabulous model for extending stories through play with the use of a few simple props. I really think this story encapsulates Story Box Library perfectly.

#favourites staffpicks

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hmcvirgo92 · 8 years ago

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Bart Gets an F (7f03)

Alright! It's time to start summarizing episodes of Season Two! The reason this season started with a Bart-centric episode was because Bart was the star of the show at the time. The original premiere was going to be “Two Cars in Every Garage, and Three Eyes on Every Fish.” Homer didn't get his time in the spotlight until circa Season Four. This is also a groundbreaking episode because it's full of cries, laughter, and feel good moments. Let's begin.

Blackboard Gag: "I will not encourage others to fly."

Couch Gag: The Simpsons sit on the couch, but it falls through the floor, leaving a crater.

At Springfield Elementary, Bart's fourth grade class is giving out their book reports. Martin has concluded his report Ernest Hemingway, and Mrs Krabappel loves it. Next up is Bart, and his report on Treasure Island. However, it is clear that Bart did not read the book, because his report consists of this:

"Well, as Mrs. Krabappel already mentioned, the name of the book that I read was Treasure Island. It's about these... pirates. Pirates... with patches over their eyes... and... shiny gold teeth... and green birds on their shoulders. Did I mention this book was written by a guy named Robert Lewis Stevenson? And published by the good people at McGraw Hill. So, in conclusion, on the Simpson scale of one to ten, ten being the highest, one being the lowest, and five being average, I give this book... a nine. Any questions? Nope? Then I'll just sit down."

Class and Krabappel:

Krabappel then asks Bart if he really did read the book. Bart says he's insulted! Is this a witch hunt or a book report? So Krabappel asks Bart to name the main pirate, so Bart seeks through his memory to answer: "Blackbeard... Captain Nemo... Captain Hook... Long John Silver... Pegleg Pete... Bluebeard..." he guesses the last one, which is wrong of course.

This is the only Bluebeard I've ever heard of:

As punishment, Bart has to write "I will not fake my way through life" on the blackboard after class. While he does this, Krabappel tells Bart that his grades are slipping, then she asks if he's aware that there is a Colonial history exam tomorrow. Bart is obviously not paying attention, and just says "yes" at Krabappel. Krabappel then tells Bart that he isn't paying attention to her, but Bart denies this. When Krabappel asks him what she said, he replies with, "Straighten up and fly right." Lucky guess!

Later, Bart wastes his time playing "Escape from Grandma's House" at the arcade, and watches an episode of Itchy and Scratchy with his sisters.

Today's Itchy and Scratchy episode is entitled "Let Them Eat Scratchy." The cartoon features Scratchy dressed as a musketeer chasing Itchy. Itchy then runs under a curtain, and Scratchy looks through. However, he accidentally puts his head in a guillotine, and Itchy beheads him. Itchy then puts some dynamite in Scratchy's mouth, which explodes and leaves Scratchy's skull.

Bart then plans to study after dinner, but Homer ruins Bart's plans by inviting him to watch movies for Big Gorilla Week. Much later, when the movie is over, Bart goes upstairs to study. Unforunately, he falls asleep shortly after.

Reminds me of when I fell asleep in the middle of study hall, and my teacher had to wake me up.

When Homer and Marge catch a glimpse of Bart sleeping at the desk, they put him to bed. The next morning, Bart is like:

So when he gets on the bus, he asks Otto to get into an accident, but Otto says he can't do that on purpose. So Bart goes over to Sherri and Terri, and asks them to give out some answers for the test. They give him wrong answers to screw him over. Here's what they answer:

1. What was the name of the Pilgrims' boat? The Spirit of St Louis (actually the Mayflower) 2. Where did they land? Sunny Acapulco (America) 3. Why did the leave England? Giant rats (persecution)

When Bart gets off the bus, Martin warns him that the answers are all wrong. Fucked, Bart fakes illness when test time begins. When in the nurse's office she asks what symptoms Bart has.

Bart: Sharp stabbing pains in my stomach. Nurse: Oh dear, I've heard of this. (gets a book on Amoria Phlebitis) Do you feel a shooting pain in your arm? Bart: Both arms, ma'am. Nurse: Temporary loss of vision? Bart: Who said that? Come closer.

Anyway, Bart is sent home where his parents take care of him. Bart even asks for the TV, much to Homer's chagrin. Lisa on the other hand knows that Bart is faking it. Bart then calls Milhouse and asks for his answers.

The next day, Bart uses some of these answers for his test, but these answers are all wrong! Krabappel tells Bart that this is the last straw, so after school, she calls in Homer and Marge to discuss Bart's bad grades. Krabappel then brings in Dr J Loren Pryor and he recommends that Bart repeat Fourth Grade. Bart however, doesn't want to do this so he vows to study harder.

The next day, Bart bemoans to Otto about his troubles. Otto isn't much of a consoler because he says he got held back twice, and "now he drives the school bus." Later, during class, Bart has a daydream where an elderly Krabappel asks a middle aged Bart what the name of the pirate was in Treasure Island, but Middle Age!Bart says this:

"Look, lady. I got a peptic ulcer, my wife's hocking me for a new car, and I need a root canal. Willya quit buggin' me about the stupid pirate?"

Middle Age!Bart's son then says, "It's Long John Silver, dad!" Elderly!Krabappel then asks to see them both after class. (Thanks a lot, son!)

Later, Bart runs into Martin and asks if he tutor him for a price: Bart will help Martin be cool instead of nerdy. Martin agrees to the bargain. Martin examines Bart's study area and says it needs to be gussied up. So the desk is cleaned off and a fern is added onto the desk.

On the bus, Bart tells Martin to sit in the back because apparently, that's where you can do mischief without anyone noticing. This also goes with classrooms and church.

We then see a montage of Bart and Martin teaching each other their ends of the bargain. One day, Martin is egstatic over the latest prank he played. Bart then asks Martin about helping him study, but Martin backstabs him by saying that "Life is too short for tests."

That night, Bart is diligently trying to study, but Marge tells him that's it's bedtime. Before he does so, Bart prays to God and asks him for a snowstorm or a power outage, even a teacher's strike. Meanwhile, Lisa pities this and says to herself that prayer "is the last refuge of a scoundrel."

Anyway, Bart thanks God in advance and finally goes to bed. Outside the Simpsons house, a single snowflake falls to the ground, followed by more snow and a church choir singing, "Hallelujah."

The next day, Bart doesn't want to get up, but Marge shows him the snow that fell last night.

Bart is stunned and he rushes down to the kitchen where the family is attentively listening to the radio on closures. Homer is happy because the Nuclear Plant is closed. When it's time to announce school closures, Bill can't announce because he's too excited. Marty then takes over by saying Springfield County schools are- Wait for it- Closed! Homer and Bart are so happy, while Marge and Lisa just smile at them.

Bart is about to play outside, but Lisa stops him and reminds him of why he wanted a snow day. Bart then goes upstairs when he realizes that he asked for a snowstorm to have an extra day of study.

Unfortunately for Bart, everyone in Springfield is having the time of their lives out in the snow, even the grown ups. The people of Springfield then hold hands in a circle a la How the Grinch Stole Christmas and sing "Winter Wonderland."

Doesn't this look like a nice Christmas Card photo?

Anyway, Bart snaps out of his yearning to join in the fun and gets down to work. He studies in the basement and slaps himself to motivate himself to study harder.

The next day, Bart takes his test. When class is over, Bart asks Krabappel to grade him now. Bad news, Bart got an F. Bart is so devestated that what happens next is one of animation's most heartbreaking scenes. Just as bad as Twilight Sparkle being fired from being her brother's Best Mare, just as bad as the ending to Sailor Moon R episode 15, just as bad as the climax to Toy Story 3... you get the idea. Bart breaks down right now and then and cries really loudly!

Bart, me, and anyone else who has a heart:

Krabappel asks what's wrong, and Bart said he really DID study this time. Krabappel says that the F is higher than usual, but that doesn't help Bart. Now he knows how George Washington felt when he surrendered Fort Necessity to the French in 1754. Krabappel is intrigued, so Bart clarifies what he was referring to. Krabappel checks a history book, and lo and behold, Bart is right! Krabappel then bumps Bart's grade up to a D-. Know what that means? He barely made it! Bart is on top of the world,

and in blind joy, kisses Krabappel.

Bart then dances out of the school celebrating is victory.

He suddenly pauses and starts spitting, realizes that he kissed his teacher.

Later, Bart's family puts his test on the refrigerator. Bart then proclaims that "part of this D- belongs to God."

The End

My Thoughts: This episode really struck a chord with me, since I struggled in school a lot. I even failed two high school classes (though I took them again) and didn't graduate from college.

#7f03 #The Simpsons #Bart gets an F

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greenlandhollerpets · 6 years ago

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Part 1 of 3. “Things Change in A Moment!” Greatest News of my life in the morning/ and a bomb on my soul at 3:33 p.m. (August 2, 2018) Last Thursday, one week ago today, with great dreams being realized, I was given devastating news. Okay first of all on Wednesday, August 1, 2018, MIchael and I met with the head of marketing for Dos Lagos to review and finalize details to pursue our idea of having one day a month, preferably the first Sunday, be a PET SOCIAL at their beautiful location. And, get all the paperwork finished, i.e. contracts. Insurance secured, and details of the planned itinerary for each show from time to activities. Swirling in my head has been to create a day not about us, but about bringing together our community of dog, and pet lovers, to share their animals, enjoy some quality speakers from vets, to trainers, to people with books or TV shows sharing new ideas on pet care, and even have some neighborhood kids singing to entertain all. And have raffles, a bake shop, and other fun little entities. The entire event is about bringing our community together, and also let people know about our dogs in need of new homes, plus the animals waiting to be saved in our shelters. So, upon leaving there, I was in the clouds. Now, however, on Tuesday, when we had our first appointment, I was unable to walk that morning, and had to postpone the meeting a day, however it was all working out. The marketing professional has bigger ideas than me! That says a lot about this creative man. He plans in a few months, because he’s sure we will be packed to close off streets. YES YES YES. This man gets it! Completely, and greater than we do ! Im designing dog Costumes for our young people volunteers. We can be just like Disney. I began working on the itinerary the moment we got back to the Sanctuary. Then the next morning, Michael and I had to get up really early as I had a long awaited appointment with the top spinal neurologist surgeon at USC. I had seen him before; he did not think he could redo my four botched back and sacrum surgeries; suggested I get a spinal NEURO transmitter, kind of like a pacemaker for the spine. I cant walk, my left leg is nearly all dead, and each day the pain is excruciating. His EMG test showed my L4, L 5, and S 1 in my spine were severed. But I felt in my heart the NEURO deal was just a bandaid. I don’t need a bandaid. I need a solution. Everyday I cant walk, and the pain is excruciating. Well, this man had been working trying to figure out what was the real problem. And he found out the issue, My sacrum is not straight. He sent all my records, and tests, to John Hopkins and other outside resources too. Well, 12 years ago, I broke my sacrum ice skating in northern Minnesota on Christmas Eve day, Dressed up in a winter wonderland dress, new skates, and rolling along with my cousins on an area all the boys had cleared for us girls. Hot toddies were at our pit stops, Im with my cousins that have been in my life since born, its Christmas and just like all our Christmas Holidays as children, we were together, and skating . . . . . Oh let the Minnesota wind blow! Plus I looked so cute. Well, the rink was a little bumpy. Hey the guys are older now too, but who cared; not me! But thirty minutes out I went down on my ribs, yes I broke a couple of those too, but I did not care. I got up and flew off to skate more. Im nearly flying. Happy? I was in heaven! However THEN I fell on my back. Oh brother! I could not get up! OOPS. And dear Michael comes over to me, my pretty dress ripped at the bottom, I can’t get up at all, and he says, “I thought you were a really great skater?.” Yeah, yeah, well guess Ive lost some of my flight with age. Us kids skated hour after hour as children. But those years had long passed, and I knew I was in trouble. The boys, now men, had to carry me back to the house. Good grief! And pain, I think I drank an entire bottle of Minnesota Brandy! It was interesting though, I was still having the time of my life. I was with my dear dear cousins, we played Bingo for Christmas Eve, nearly killing each other over getting the extraordinary gifts, of ducks carved by one of the guys, blankets hand made, and just precious gifts. You toss dice, and when the gifts are all opened, you toss the dice among you, and when you get doubles, you can take a gift from another person. That’s when the fun begins. As kids we were dangerous over the gifts mostly hand made. No wonder I have such a diligent drive to WIN! And never give up. So all my childhood memories I was reliving. Little did I know I had SHATTERED my SACRUM. Shattered! I had destroyed my sacrum. But with cocktails, laughter and a MInnesota old-fashioned blizzard, just like when I was a child, I was on a cloud. Michael and I had driven to Minnesota to fix up my aunt’s home. She was found murdered, oh thats another story, she was MURDERED. I was her executor and niece. She and my mom were very close, and Nancy spent all her summers with her children, same age as me, at our supper club. Now she was dead, and it was and still is a horror. Another day I will tell all, but not right now. But we are in a truck, 400 miles north of the cities, and thousands of miles north of our home in California. The day after Christmas, we still had celebrating to do, the usual meal, And just sharing all our tales. But the following day MIchael and I headed down to Minneapolis, in a a severe snowstorm which for me made the trip bearable, and memorable, and fun! Im easy to please! We decided we would go to the hospital in the cities, as if I had to go into a hospital MIchael could be working on the my aunts house that had been stripped and nearly destroyed by a stranger she had befriended. A lonely woman in need of love! Well Edina hospital informed me my tail bone was broken, and just needed to heal. And gave me I think 250 20 mg. Of Percocet. Yikes. And my many other relatives made sure we had liquor. I love being in Minnesota! We had a balloon bed on the floor. I hurt so bad, and could not lift my legs at all; couldn’t really walk, but I supervised! We were thinking of moving back there at this point. My aunts home was beautiful, it had just been harmed, but it was coming together so elegant, and I thought I would finally get to go back home. A dream in my heart for years. But it did not happen. I was too sick, and we did what was critical, well Michael did, and headed home to California. We set up pillows and tried to make me comfortable, it was a horrible ride though. We met Michaels mom, dad, sister and family in Arizona. They were celebrating a family anniversary. I tried to attend the dinner, but we had to get up and leave. We got on the highway. I needed to be in a hospital, and we needed to get home. At the dinner table, I asked everyone for their drinks . . . .told them not to worry they should order a couple more. The pain had become excruciating. And then we were home, we did not even go home, Michael drove us to our Corona hospital, where they told me to study yoga, and within minutes Michael took me to UCI. Immediately I was given Morphine. I had never had morphine, that I knew about, and I made them flush it out, I hated the feeling, but other drugs were acceptable. Then I was told my sacrum was shattered. However by now, it had started to heal. I was placed in the hospital for a few days, but made a decision to just let it heal. I COULD NOT GO THRU the PAIN again! For eight months I could not walk. But I exercised faithfully and hard core daily, and finally I was at least able to walk. I thought I was going to be okay. I didn’t realize my sacrum made the structure of my body unstable and unbalanced. Well, that fall and the damage is my entire problem today. UCI with my four surgeries never fixed the sacrum. My back sticks out which is not acceptable. My doctor at USC says you can’t walk for long with the position of my spine. You lose all stability. I only have a few months to get things fixed, or I can become paralyzed. This doctor was haunted by what he had seen in my tests. He told me on this morning, August 2, 2018, that he could fix me or at least give it all he has, as I DONT HAVE A CHOICE. I was beyond happy, I now had hope and a real solution. I can be fixed. Then I had a CT Angiogram with contrast. Remember I had a heart attack and have congestive heart. failure, with a definite constricted heart. The new back surgery is dangerous, so all has to be cleared. I have the test done, and found out my veins are just not working at this time.. They had to use my hand for the IV for the contrast. What else can go wrong. But moving right along, test all done, Michael and I are almost home after another long journey now from LA USC to home in Corona; it’s about 3:30. My cardiologist phones: “You need to turn your car around and come back here. We need to put you in the hospital immediately. You have clot in you lung. You have a critical pulmonary embolism!” “WHAT?” No. Michael turned the car around, but the traffic was absolute grid-lock. He said we needed to go to Corona.....NO NO NO! Anyway, no choice I could die taking the ride. So We went to Corona. First thing I am told is this hospital no longer has a cardiac department, oh goodness. But they did have lung doctors. Get me to USC. “You can’t travel!” I am told. Visit us at www.greenlandhollerpets.org

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readbookywooks · 8 years ago

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At one side of the clearing three tiny red points of light-glowed momentarily and there was the sound of a chesty cough, abruptly silenced. 'Shut up!' hissed a third rank wizard. They'll hear us!' 'Who will? We gave the lads from the Brotherhood of the Hoodwink the slip in the swamp, and those idiots from the Venerable Council of Seers went off the wrong way anyway.' 'Yeah,' said the most junior wizard, 'but who keeps talking to us? They say this is a magic wood, it's full of goblins and wolves and —' 'Trees,' said a voice out of the darkness, high above. It possessed what can only be described as timbre. 'Yeah,' said the youngest wizard. He sucked on his dogend, and shivered. The leader of the party peered over the rock and watched the cottage. 'Right then,' he said, knocking out his pipe on the heel of his seven league boot, who squeaked in protest. 'We rush in, we grab them, we're away. Okay?' 'You sure it's just people?' said the youngest wizard, nervously. 'Of course I'm sure,' snarled the leader. 'What do you expect, three bears?' 'There could be monsters. This is the sort of wood that 45 has monsters.' 'And trees,' said a friendly voice from the branches. 'Yeah,' said the leader, cautiously. Rincewind looked carefully at the bed. It was quite a nice little bed, in a sort of hard toffee inlaid with caramel, but he'd rather eat it than sleep in it and it looked as though someone already had. 'Someone's been eating my bed,' he said. 'I like toffee,' said Twoflower defensively. 'If you don't watch out the fairy will come and take all your teeth away,' said Rincewind. 'No, that's elves,' said Swires from the dressing table. 'Elves do that. Toenails, too. Very touchy at times, elves can be.' Twoflower sat down heavily on his bed. 'You've got it wrong,' he said. 'Elves are noble and beautiful and wise and fair; I'm sure I read that somewhere.' Swires and Rincewind's kneecap exchanged glances. 'I think you must be thinking about different elves,' the gnome said slowly. 'We've just got the other sort around here. Not that you could call them quick-tempered,' he added hastily. 'Not if you didn't want to take your teeth home in your hat, anyway.' There was the tiny, distinctive sound of a nougat door opening. At the same time, from the other side of the cottage, came the faintest of tinkles, like a rock smashing a barley sugar window as delicately as possible. 'What was that?' said Twoflower. 'Which one?' said Rincewind. There was the clonk of a heavy branch banging against the window sill. With a cry of 'Elves!' Swires scuttled across the floor to a mousehole and vanished. 'What shall we do?' said Twoflower. 'Panic?' said Rincewind hopefully. He always held that panic was the best means of survival; back in the olden days, his theory went, people faced with hungry sabre-toothed tigers could be divided very simply into those who panicked and those who stood there saying 'What a magnificent brute!' and 'Here, pussy.' 'There's a cupboard,' said Twoflower, pointing to a narrow door that was squeezed between the wall and the chimneybreast. They scrambled into sweet, musty darkness. There was the creak of a chocolate floorboard outside. Someone said 'I heard voices.' Someone else said, 'Yeah, downstairs. I think it's the Hood winkers.' 'I thought you said we'd given them the slip!' 'Hey, you two, you can eat this place! Here, look you can —' 'Shut up!' There was a lot more creaking, and a muffled scream from downstairs where a Venerable Seer, creeping carefully through the darkness from the broken window, had trodden on the fingers of a Hoodwinker who was hiding under the table. There was the sudden zip and zing of magic. 'Bugger!'said a voice outside. They've got him! Let's go!' There was more creaking, and then silence. After a while Twoflower said, 'Rincewind, I think there's a broomstick in this cupboard.' Well, what's so unusual about that?' This one's got handlebars.' There was a piercing shriek from below. In the darkness a wizard had tried to open the Luggage's lid. A crash from the scullery indicated the sudden arrival of a party of Illuminated Mages of the Unbroken Circle. 'What do you think they're after?' whispered Twoflower. 'I don't know, but I think it might be a good idea not to find out,' said Rincewind thoughtfully. 'You could be right.' Rincewind pushed open the door gingerly. The room was empty. He tiptoed across to the window, and looked own into the upturned faces of three Brothers of the Order of Midnight. 'That's him!' He drew back hurriedly and rushed for the stairs. The scene below was indescribable but since that statement would earn the death penalty in the reign of Olaf Quimby II the attempt better be made. Firstly, most of the struggling wizards were trying to illuminate the scene by various flames, fireballs and magical glows, so the overall lighting gave the impression of a disco in a strobelight factory; each man was trying to find a position from which he could see the rest of the room without being attacked himself, and absolutely everyone was trying to keep out of the way of the Luggage, which had two Venerable Seers pinned in a corner and was snapping its lid at anyone who approached. But one wizard did happen to look up. 'It's him!' Rincewind jerked back, and something bumped into him. He looked around hurriedly, and stared when he saw Twoflower sitting on the broomstick – which was floating in mid-air. 'The witch must have left it behind!' said Twoflower. 'A genuine magic broomstick!' Rincewind hesitated. Octarine sparks were spitting off the broomstick's bristles and he hated heights almost more than anything else, but what he really hated more than anything at all was a dozen very angry and bad-tempered wizards rushing up the stairs towards him, and this was happening. 'All right,' he said, 'but I'll drive.' He lashed out with a boot at a wizard who was halfway through a Spell of Binding and jumped onto the broomstick, which bobbed down the stairwell and then turned upside down so that Rincewind was horribly eye to eye with a Brother of Midnight. He yelped and gave the handlebars a convulsive twist. Several things happened at once. The broomstick shot orward and broke through the wall in a shower of crumbs: the Luggage surged forward and bit the Brother in the leg: and with a strange whistling sound an arrow appeared from nowhere, missed Rincewind by inches, and struck the Luggage's lid with a very solid thud. The Luggage vanished. In a little village deep in the forest an ancient shaman threw a few more twigs on his fire and stared through the smoke at his shamefaced apprentice. 'A box with legs on?' he said. 'Yes, master. It just appeared out of the sky and looked at me,' said the apprentice. 'It had eyes then, this box?' 'N—,' began the apprentice and stopped, puzzled. The old man frowned. 'Many have seen Topaxci, God of the Red Mushroom, and they earn the name of shaman,' he said. 'Some have seen Skelde, spirit of the smoke, and they are called sorcerers. A few have been privileged to see Umcherrel, the soul of the forest, and they are known as spirit masters. But none have seen a box with hundreds of legs that looked at them without eyes, and they are known as idio—' The interruption was caused by a sudden screaming noise and a flurry of snow and sparks that blew the fire across the dark hut; there was a brief blurred vision and then the opposite wall was blasted aside and the apparition vanished. There was a long silence. Then a slightly shorter silence. Then the old shaman said carefully, 'You didn't just see two men go through upside down on a broomstick, shouting and screaming at each other, did you?' The boy looked at him levelly. 'Certainly not,' he said. The old man heaved a sigh of relief. Thank goodness for that,' he said. 'Neither did I.' The cottage was in turmoil, because not only did the wizards want to follow the broomstick, they also wanted to prevent each other from doing so, and this led to several regrettable incidents.The most spectacular, and certainly the most tragic, happened when one Seer attempted to use his seven league boots without the proper sequence of spells and preparations. Seven league boots, as has already been intimated, are a tricksy form of magic at best, and he remembered too late that the utmost caution must be taken in using a means of transport which, when all is said and done, relies for its effectiveness on trying to put one foot twenty-one miles in front of the other. The first snowstorms of winter were raging, and in fact there was a suspiciously heavy covering of cloud over most of the Disc. And yet, from far above and by the silver light of the discworld's tiny moon, it presented one of the most beautiful sights in the multiverse. Great streamers of cloud, hundreds of miles along, swirled from the waterfall at the Rim to the mountains of the Hub. In the cold crystal silence the huge white spiral glittered frostily under the stars, imperceptibly turning, very much as though God had stirred His coffee and then poured the cream in. Nothing disturbed the glowing scene, which — Something small and distant broke through the cloud layer, trailing shreds of vapour. In the stratospheric calm the sounds of bickering came sharp and clear. 'You said you could fly one of these things!' 'No I didn't; I just said you couldn't!' 'But I've never been on one before!' 'What a coincidence!' 'Anyway, you said— look at the sky!' 'No I didn't!' 'What's happened to the stars?' And so it was that Rincewind and Twoflower became the first two people on the Disc to see what the future held. A thousand miles behind them the Hub mountain of Cori Celesti stabbed the sky and cast a knife-bright shadow across the broiling clouds, so that Gods ought to have noticed too – but the Gods don't normally look at the sky and in any case were engaged in litigation with the Ice Giants, who had refused to turn their radio down. Rimwards, in the direction of Great A'Tuin's travel, the sky had been swept of stars. In that circle of blackness there was just one star, a red and baleful star, a star like the glitter in the eyesocket of a rabid mink. It was small and horrible and uncompromising. And the Disc was being carried straight towards it. Rincewind knew precisely what to do in these circumstances. He screamed and pointed the broomstick straight down. Galder Weatherwax stood in the centre of the octogram and raised his hands. 'Urshalo, dileptor, c'hula, do my bidding!' A small mist formed over his head. He glanced sideways at Trymon, who was sulking at the edge of the magic circle. 'This next bit's quite impressive,' he said. 'Watch. Kot-b'hai! Kot-sham! To me, o spirits of small isolated rocks and worried mice not less than three inches long!' 'What?' said Trymon. That bit took quite a lot of research,' agreed Galder, especially the mice. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes . . .' He raised his arms again. Trymon watched him, and licked his lips distractedly. The old fool was really concentrating, bending his mind entirely to the Spell and hardly paying any attention to Trymon. Words of power rolled around the room, bouncing off the walls and scuttling out of sight behind shelves and jars. Trymon hesitated. Galder shut his eyes momentarily, his face a mask of ecstacy as he mouthed the final word. Trymon tensed, his fingers curling around the knife again. And Galder opened one eye, nodded at him and sent a sideways blast of power that picked the younger man up and sent him sprawling against the wall.

#LightFantastic

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yo-mk · 8 years ago

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#17: On generosity, the worst years and sunny days again

Last week, I mentioned having little motivation, and this week I find I have little energy as I'm scrambling to finish everything I need to get done. I'm a bit drained of attention, emotional energy and time. On a personal level, I've had a decent 2016 but many of the people around me are going through some heavy stuff, so I've been trying to support them to the best of my ability. On top of that, what's happening in the world lately has taken a toll. There's always some big world event or catastrophe around the holidays and 2016 has been no different with this week already full of tragic news from around the globe. In an effort to not be completely be consumed by grief or immobilized by fear (and to avoid throwing more fuel into the dumpster fire of 2016), I've been reminding myself that this year is not the worst ever. No year is the worst ever. Worse things have happened and even more atrocious things have yet to come. We also have plenty to celebrate and be grateful for. Humans have a tendency to ruminate more on negative events, and bad impressions leave more of an impact than positive ones, so it's no wonder that we seem to only remember the bombings, shootings, attacks and deaths of the year. I came across this piece by Jia Tolentino about how this year was the worst ever, that is until next year rolls around. She writes, "Perhaps 2016 feels so terrible partly because so many of us felt like we'd come so far." She worries about how news is delivered through social media, channels that are supposed to connect us but have instead spawned fear and alienation through the relentless emotional bombardment. That kind of aggressive and intimate delivery is bound to be taxing on us. She continues that, "Hope is elusive, but it will return eventually," and I'd like to cling to that sentiment heading into 2017. This is the last newsletter of the year, and I have some changes planned for next year, so stay tuned. Until then, I'm delighted to end on a cheery note. We're about to nosedive into winter, but it also means that after tomorrow's solstice, the days will slowly get longer again! This month's interview is courtesy of entrepreneur, father and all-around-good-vibes dude, Adrian Fenty, who has one of the warmest smiles around. Born and raised in Toronto, the 35-year-old recently completed Run for Change, a cross-province run designed to spark "collective conversation around creating positive movements" in response to challenges people face. Starting off in at Toronto's City Hall, Adrian ran to Parliament Hill in Ottawa over nine days, encouraging others to join him for stretches along the way. Run for Change isn't about a single issue and Adrian was motivated to create awareness around cancer as well as to speak up about the social injustices and violence that has happened in the U.S. as well as Toronto this year. "Run for Change can stand for whatever you want it to be," he says. [It's about] improving yourself so each day you can get up and try to do better than yesterday." Adrian got into running about six years ago, through the encouragement of a friend who was a marathoner. He grew up playing basketball but after losing his father to cancer, he decided to try running and found it was a good outlet for his grief. "I started doing 1k, and I remember how it was such a struggle." But he kept at it and eventually signed up for a 10k race in Yorkville (an area in Toronto). "After that race, I caught a bug and continued", running his first marathon in 2013 in New York. He cites Terry Fox (and even mentions Forrest Gump!) as inspiration for Run the Change. "I saw the action of someone taking the courageous step to sacrifice their body and time to get people involved and aware." He wants to move others to make positive change and to get others to consider that normal everyday folks can make a difference as much as a celebrity. "You don't have to be a superstar or athlete or artist. Everyone always thinks those are the only ways you can change the world but a normal individual like myself can take it upon [themselves to create change]." Toronto to Ottawa is over 450 kilometres and he worked with a coach to get ready. His training regimen had him running morning distances of 20-25km, then after a full day at work, he would come home and do another 15-25km run. "I knew it was going to be nine days in a row of 50-plus kilometres, so it was really intense--it's crazy what the body can do once it gets accustomed to all the training," he says. Adrian enlisted the help of his dear friend Kiana, who drove the car behind him and provided support along the way. "When I had this idea in my mind [I was] thinking about who was going to come on this journey with me, who was not going to get bored driving at eight miles an hour," laughs a grateful Adrian. Kiana played a key role along the way. "She was always smiling when I look[ed] at the car, looking out for me with lights, had the drinks and snacks ready." Not only was the experience life-changing for Adrian, he says it changed Kiana too. She didn't know how to swim before but always wanted to learn and since returning has been learning. He also made sure the two enjoyed themselves especially since people don't show the fun side of running enough, being too focused on chip times and pace. "We gotta have fun with this because you don't want to put this thing on that looks daunting and that only elite people can do. Everyday we got up, did a little prayer, were thankful, listened to some music to start the day and ran." The planned route was along Kingston Road, starting from Toronto's Queen Street up to Scarborough and then hitting towns like Ajax, Newcastle, Bowmanville, Belleville, Napanee, Kingston, Brockville, and Kemptville along the way. He was blown away by people's hospitality, opening their doors and inviting them in for meals and offering them a place to crash. He chuckles about an incident in Port Hope when he posted a photo of a burger joint on his Instagram. A friend recognized the place and messaged him. "He was like, 'Hey, is that Olympus Burger? I'm 10 minutes from there!'" Adrian and Kiana were able to connect with his friend and stay with him and his family. People not only opened their wallets, they offered their homes as well. "Each day was filled with such new experiences and meeting new people, and you just felt the generosity of human beings." They also had luck on their side with no mishaps--the car didn't break down and there were no accidents or injuries. Even the weather cooperated. Other than a couple days of rain, it was mostly dry. The day after Adrian reached Ottawa, there was a snowstorm. People often ask me what I think about when I'm running, so naturally I asked Adrian what he thought about since he ran the equivalent of approximately 10 marathons in nine days. That's a lot of time on the road and a lot of time for reflection. "Honestly some days I just ran. It sounds silly but you don't think about other things," he says. There were days where he was exhausted but he just put one foot in front of the other. "It's one step after another and you get to your destination." Whether it was through brands offering gels and gear, encouragement from the Parkdale Roadrunners and the Toronto running community or strangers offering up their couches, Adrian is thankful for all the support he received, both in real life and through social media. "[That's something that's] different from Terry Fox's time. He was out there on his own unless he was doing a news conference." Adrian was able to connect with people and let friends and family follow along the way using social media. Adrian is planning to do another Run for Change event next year, working with the Terry Fox Foundation. They also plan to work with school boards--during his run several schools wrote him letters with messages of encouragement and inspiration from the students--to elicit change and positivity in others. To donate to Run for Change, check out their GoFundMe page. Their website Runforchange.ca should be up in the new year.

Fuel for the mind Yeezy's been cozying up with Trump and this essay from 2013 speculates on his motives. Stuffed animals are getting softer and here's why. This profile of Barack Obama by Ta-Nehisi Coates had me crying on several occasions and is an excellent analysis of his rise and legacy. Anyone who knows me, knows I'm obsessed with seltzer/fizzy water. Anyway, there's an episode of Gastropod that is dedicated to the history and appeal of seltzer. Was Tilda Swinton's "conversation" with Margaret Cho about the erasure of Asian-Americans from Hollywood films just white guilt seeking to be absolved? Jay Caspian Kang's open letter to fellow minority journalists. Running as the thinking person's sport and as therapy.

Fuel for the ears I've fallen into a music video rabbit hole this week. Seth Scriver's new video for New Fries' "JZ III" is a visual treat! The loose narrative behind Mndsn's new album Body Wash is a man who washes in a special body wash, and as he soaks and sinks deeper into the thick lather, he finds himself transported to an alternate dimension. Dance around to "One Last Time" by Evan Gordon featuring LCON. Never forget that "Truth is the Freshest Fruit." Enter a dream world with the sparkly sounds of Maylee Todd's "Homegurl." A lil' novelty rockabilly from 1959. Phèdre's ZASTROSZY is a fun and neurotic time and the music vid is chock full of cool costumes, spacey hairdos and twinkling lights. As is "World Gong Crazy" by Han Han with DATU and HATAW. There's so much to take in and celebrate in DJ Shub's "Indomintable" video featuring Northern Cree Singers.

Sweet fancy Moses, another year gone by! So long 2016!

#hotknees #newsletter #solong2016 #running #writing #runnersnotrunning

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