#bye glorious winter coat

[islenskihesturinn]

So it begins…

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: There The Heart Stays Buried, Part VIII

Sequel to Where The Crossroads Meet

Read on AO3

Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

Fandom: The Great Wall

Ships: Pero Tovar x you/reader (cishet female)

Tags/warnings (chapter specific): Yearning, breastfeeding, Pero has a motherhood/fertility kink if you squint, fingering, unprotected PiV sex, Pero wants to be a dad so badly.

Words: 3,690

Summary: In the cold midwinter Pero visits you and your daughter again.

Taglist: @amneris21 @etenax @harriedandharassed @iamskyereads @inkededucatednnerdy @pazizz @rambling-in-purple

The bitter cold grows frost on your eyelashes despite the shawl you have wrapped around your head. The bright midday sun reflects on the white snow, blinding you on your short walk from the cowshed to the cottage. The day is glorious but the chill is not to be played with, neither are the deep drifts of snow that hinder any expeditions beyond the homestead. It is not your first time being stuck where you are, and your pantry and cellar are still stocked, but it is always unnerving to be so utterly cut off from the rest of the world, especially now that you are responsible for a child.

Mariposa is asleep in her shawl nestled against your chest, layers of wool protecting her from the cold. She has grown much during the past few months; a testiment to your rich diet. Thank the heavens that she was born in early autumn when you have been able to keep your strength up and the milk flowing, not early spring when your stocks dwindle to nearly nothing.

The heat from the fireplace greets you when you step into your home, fragranced by firewood, dried herbs hanging from the low ceiling along with rods on which round, flat loaves of bread are strung up through a hole in the middle. You peel off the layers of outer clothes before untying Mariposa’s shawl and putting her down in her basket, which is placed on a bench by the window. The baby needs the sun to prevent the rickets. You need the sun for energy, so you sit down next to the basket with your knitwork, working the needles around the yarn while cooing to the baby.

Winter always brings with it a certain kind of peace. Everything slows down, your chores are cut down to a minimum. You sleep a lot and spend most of the short days cleaving firewood or taking care of the animals: chores that keep you warm. Mariposa follows you where you go although being bundled up is not always to her liking anymore. She is beginning to show an interest in the outside world, a characteristic that, together with her dark brown eyes, clearly comes from Pero.

You think about Pero Tovar a lot. It has been months since he last visited you, slept with you, kissed first you good-bye before brushing his lips to Mariposa’s wispy eyebrows. He never made any promises but you always knew he would be back.

Maybe on a day like today. Your heart skips a beat when a movement outside the window catches your eye. You look up only to see a rabbit jump over the snow. You knock on the window to scare it off, or it will find its way to the apple trees and start gnawing.

Later, when you’re preparing dinner, you get your wish: a heavy knock on the door, Pero on the threshold when you go to open.

You breathe his name and then his lips are on yours, cold and frosty, wet when your hot breaths mingle and melt the frost on his mustache. You shiver from the cold of his clothes and he notices.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, taking a step back. “Let me get these off.”

He sheds his fur coat and the layers until he’s down to his breeches and shirt.

“Where is the baby?” he wants to know, and you take him by the hand and lead him to the Mariposa’s basket by the window. Dark brown eyes gaze up at the two of you and Mariposa stops suckling on her tiny knuckle, instead waving her hand at you.

“She’s happy to see you,” you smile as Pero reaches down to softly touch the baby’s hand. She grabs hold of his big pointer finger and laughs. Pero inhales sharply, eyes shrouded as he stares down at his daughter.

“Is she well?” he asks in a low voice. You nod.

“She’s perfect.”

“She really is.”

Mariposa starts to wave both arms at Pero and slowly, hesitantly, he reaches down and picks her up, cradling her little head in the palm of his hand. Carefully placing her on his arm, he looks down at the sweet little face, and you know that he’s taking note of the same things you always do when you hold you daughter: the puckered little mouth, the pink fat cheeks, the long lashes framing her brown eyes. The tufts of dark hair. The unfathomable miracle of this being a real person, so small and helpless and utterly enchanting. The result of short encounters between two people of completely different worlds. Half you, half him.

The baby is inspecting Pero with wide open, round eyes. Silence is descending over your little cottage along with the dusk, and you leave Pero and Mariposa to put a few more logs on the fire. Your breasts feel strained and you know that she is going to start fussing soon. Without asking if Pero is hungry, you start to lay the table, cook potatoes and carrots. Soon, just as you predicted, Mariposa starts to whimper and Pero looks at you, his features tight with unease.

“What is wrong?”

“She��s just hungry.” You reach for the baby and he hands her over willingly. With practiced moves you sit down, pull the drawstring in front of you dress, and take out a breast to offer Mariposa. Her crying stops when she smells the milk and a moment later, she’s suckling peacefully. You sigh in relief as the pressure eases, and start to direct Pero around the kitchen. He washes while waiting for the potatoes to cook and soon, you’re both eating dinner. When the baby is full, Pero asks to hold her again. He finishes his meal with one hand, the baby on his other arm.

You watch him from across the table and cannot help but wonder what this is, where it will lead. Is Pero going to stay now, be a father, a farmer? I can never be a farmer, he has told you in the past. Has that changed? You need it not to change. You do not need him here, you are not supposed to need him here. His visits are welcome but that is all.

After the meal, Pero sits with Mariposa in his arms, quietly observing the baby grab hold of his fingers and babble inquisitively. You leave them for a while to check the animals and use the privy. When you return, Pero is leaning back in his chair, relaxed and soft, with Mariposa asleep in his arms. Darkness has descended and you light a few candles.

“Her basket is over by the window,” you tell him in case he wants to put her down. Pero only nods but does not get up. You collect the dishes and start to clean them with water from the big cauldron on the stove. The silence that is so familiar to you is cut by the low hum of Pero’s presence. You can feel it in the base of your spine as you rinse the plates, back turned against him. The scrape of the chair against the wooden floor is almost deafening, his feet falling heavily over the boards when he takes the baby to her basket and tucks her in. The warm dishwater seems to heat up even more when the steps come up to you. Pero’s warm, broad body crowds you against the sink, his hands coming to rest on the edge on either side of you. His breath is on the nape of your neck, then your ear.

“I’ve missed you.”

You wet your lips. “And I have missed you.”

Your breath hitches when he presses up against you, trapping you against the hard cabinet and the stiff outline of his cock. His hands land on your hips from where they start to wander, reclaiming your stomach, breasts, arms. You feel him hold back on his thirst for you, trying to be respectful, maybe waiting for you to reciprocate? But you’re frozen solid where you are, not from fear or indecisiveness but from the sheer joy of being touched by him again. The titillation between your legs starts to soar into an almost painful throb. When Pero starts to gather your skirt in his hands, pulling the fabric up, you take your hands out of the dishwater and help him. His fingers find you and his breath is scorching against your ear when he sighs.

“Woman... so wet for me already.”

You whimper and turn your head back, finding his lips.

“Please,” you whisper before kissing him, raising your hand to rake your fingers through his hair. His tongue slides in between your mouth’s lips as his fingers push through the slick lips of your cunt. Your mouth falls open in a moan that Pero greedily feeds on as his fingers scissor and twist inside of you, finding the angle that will give you the most pleasure. He knows he has discovered it when your back rounds and your lips are torn from his with the little scream that escapes you.

“That’s it, hermosa,” Pero growls against your neck before letting his teeth scrape against it in one toothy kiss after another. His free hand finds one of your breasts, cupping it and pinching the nipple. You feel the front of your chemise turn wet as the milk starts to flow, and for a moment you worry that Pero will find it disturbing but before you can protest, he speaks to you again in a low, heated murmur.

“You are so beautiful when you feed our child, woman. So soft and good. You take of her so well, now let me take care of you...”

Thumb against your sensitive bud, he makes you moan out loud as he pushes you towards your climax. When your moans threaten to get too loud he stifles them by covering your mouth with his hand. Your eyes fall shut when the trembling begins and you clutch Pero’s lower arms, feeling the tight muscles underneath the tawny skin as you hold on to him desperately, your pelvis moving against his hand, his pelvis moving against your bottom, the burning intensifying higher, higher, higher before you plummet through pleasure and become limp in his arms.

Pero supports you while whispering tender things into you ear, things you don’t hear but understand solely from the softness of his voice. When you find your footing, he whisks you off your feet and carries you to the bedchamber. When he puts you down on the neatly made bed you pull him down next to you and scramble to straddle him. You take a moment to gaze at him through the dark, seeing the outlines of his face, his eyes when he blinks. You don’t speak, neither does he, but he cups your cheek and brings you down for a long, heated kiss that reminds you of how much you need him. You undo the buttons at the front of his breeches and pull them down. His cock springs free, thick, veiny, and glistening at the top in search of your cunt. You take a moment to shamelessly stroke him, feeling the heft of his member in your hand before Pero grunts impatiently. You bite your lower lip and smile even though you know he can’t see it, and let go of his cock to pull up your skirts and position yourself. Finding him again, you lead him into you, sinking down on him with a low groan. Pero’s hands are on your thighs, gripping the soft flesh through the fabric of your clothes and when he’s fully sheathed in you he releases the breath he had been holding.

“Ride it, woman.” The words are harsh but his voice has a tender, pleading tone that you cannot resist even if you wanted to. You place your hands on his chest and start to move your hips, your mouth falling open from the intoxicating sensation of fullness. It’s like a madness coming over you as you start chasing the high again, riding him harder and faster, the bed’s creaks and Pero’s huffing breaths mingling with your own rising moans. He palms your breasts through the fabric of your chemise, searching for the drawstring to free them up but not finding it in the dark. He eventually settles for just cupping your breasts through the garment as you ride him to a desperate release that makes you arch your heart to him, baring yourself although neither one of you can see, for which you are now grateful because you are weeping. Tears are running down your cheeks and you don’t know whether they are from joy of being with him again, or sorrow because you know you are going to lose him in the morning.

There is no time to ruminate because Pero is now sitting up, grabbing you by the waist and turning both of you around, slamming you on your back against the threadbare old mattress and groaning against your neck.

“Where do you want me, hermosa?” His voice is tight, like a coiled spring, and you know he’s close from how his whole body is vibrating with his impending release.

You know what he’s asking. If he finishes in you, and you become with child again, he will be all the more connected to you. Mariposa is already the living embodiment of your passion. What would another child mean to the witch and the sell-sword?

“Inside,” you whisper, your voice thick but determined. “As deep as you can, Pero, all the way in.”

He growls at that and lays down over you, hooks one arm around your thigh to lift it up, gaining even deeper access. The other arm goes around your neck, pulling you into his chest so tightly that you can barely breathe. He buries his face against your neck as he pumps into you roughly and you wrap your arms around him, fisting your hands into his shirt as you crane your neck up and back in order to breathe. You’re pinned under him as he fucks his release into you, and you could not be happier when he floods you with his seed, filling you up and staying inside you when his body goes limp on top of you. The wilderness is raw inside you when his chest and stomach are glued to you, and your eyes fill with tears again.

Is this love?

You barely finish the thought before Mariposa lets out a cry that startles Pero into rolling off of you. You sit up, a little dizzy at first before you find your bearings and leave the bed, hasting over to the kitchen and your crying daughter who is flailing her arms.

“There, there, my love,” you coo as you lift her up and hold her against your chest. “Mama is here, there’s no need for that.”

Rocking her gently as you hum a song older than yourself, you manage to stop her crying. The bed creaks and you look up when Pero appears. He has stripped his shirt and tucked himself in, but his breeches are unbuttoned. The candlelight casts long, dark shadows over his naked chest and the strand of hair trailing down from his navel into his pants. The map of scars on his chest is familiar to you but there are a couple of new marks that you want to kiss. You should be scolding yourself for leaving the candles burning: not just a safety risk, candles are also precious. Instead, your heart misses a beat at the sight of Pero half dressed. You feel his seed trickle down the inside of your thigh, bringing a flush to your cheeks.

He comes up to you, bending his neck to kiss Mariposa’s head.

“Is she hungry again?”

“No,” you shake your head, “I think we just... woke her up.”

You see the corners for his mouth tug upwards in an amused, slightly chagrined smile.

“Should have thought about that. It’s just that... it feels so good to be inside you.”

The last words are whispered into your ear before his lips trail over your cheek, pausing at the salty wet on your cheekbones.

“Hermosa?”

“I’m okay,” you assure him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I promise.”

“Did I hurt you? I know I wasn’t careful.” His eyes are cast dark, the scar rendering his gaze frightening to anyone but you. A tender kiss on his lips softens his features slightly.

“You did not hurt me. It was good, Pero, you made me feel so good. That’s where the tears come from.”

He wipes your cheeks with his thumbs before pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Can we go back to bed...?” he murmurs against your lips. Your smile tells him all he needs to know. He puts more logs on the fire, you blow out the candles except two that you bring with you when you return to the bedchamber with Mariposa. You both undress before hiding under the covers with the baby between the two of you. Mariposa has warmed to being awake and is enjoying the attention of the visitor, laughing her sweet baby laugh when Pero tickles her tummy and kisses her bare little feet. When she soils herself you get up to wash her and when you return, you find Pero stroking himself as he watches you with glassy eyes. You quickly put down Mariposa in her basket and give her a piece of leather that she likes to chew on, before you join Pero in bed and let him ravage you again.

You have to see to the animals after. Bundling up, you leave Pero and Mariposa in the kitchen, and step out. The night is cold but when you look up at the sky, the stars are gone. The bite against your cheeks comes from the wind which has emerged during the evening, and you hurry to the cowshed where you are greeted by your little herd. You feed the chickens and the cows, clean out the pens and put in fresh hay while talking to them. You tell them about Pero’s visit. The animals do not seem to pay you any mind but you know they are listening. Animals are always listening. You scratch the cows’ ears, caress the silky feathers of the chickens and wish them a good night.

It is snowing when you step out. Small, sharp flakes sting your face as you hurry to the cottage. The warmth welcomes you, as do Pero’s dark eyes and Mariposa’s happy gurgle. You feed the baby one more time before rocking her in your arms while singing to her a song that your grandmother sang to you. You even have a faint memory of the words in your mother’s voice, before she passed away.

North of where the crossroads meet

You’ll find a home where the air smells so sweet

There I was born and there did I grow

There I have field, there I have meadow

There I love you with all my heart

There we will never be apart

There on a spring day we were married

There in the winter my heart stays buried.

The baby falls asleep and you put her down for the night and crawl into bed. Pero moves around the kitchen like a shadow, putting out the lights and feeding the fire with more wood before joining you. The darkness is total but so is the warmth of his body, crowded against you as he is in the narrow bed. You’re sleepy but his touch rouses you as he pulls up your nightgown and reaches up between your legs.

After, you lie awake with Pero snoring lightly next to you. Despite being dead tired from the physical pleasure and the long day, you are too excited to sleep.

You are happy, quite ridiculously so. This is more than the satisfaction you feel at a job well done. This is addictive and dangerous, the way you want the rest of your winter to be spent exploring the world of physical pleasure with Pero, taking care of your daughter together, caring for the animals, and sleeping in his arms at night. You don’t want him to leave in the morning, and you’re secretly hoping that you will be snowed in so that he has to stay.

This is not how things are meant to go. But you also remember what you told him when he visited in autumn and begrudgingly told you his shameful secret of cowardice: the two of you are meant to enjoy each other. There is no shame in wanting him, taking pleasure from him, giving him pleasure. And if that pleasure should result in another baby, well... then so be it.

You move your hand over your belly, still slightly rounded from having accomodated Mariposa. None of your foremothers had more than one child, at least not that you know of. Why would you be different?

But you already are different. Pero is different. And you want it to be like this.

When Mariposa cries for her midnight feeding, Pero lies awake with one hand on your thigh as you sit in bed, nursing. You decide to be brave.

“Pero?” you ask quietly.

“Yes, hermosa?”

“Would you stay for a few days?”

He’s quiet for a long while and you regret your foolish question. He cannot be caged, you should have known that.

“I don’t want to crowd you,” he eventually confesses. “You have your own life.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want you to.”

“There’s not much I can do on a farm.”

“I don’t need your help with anything, I just... like your company.”

You hear the smile in his voice. “I like your company too.”

“The roads will be difficult after the blizzard anyway, Pero. Stay for a few days.”

“I will.”

With Mariposa back in her basket and you tucked into Pero’s side, you finally find rest, your hand resting on his chest, directly over his heart.

[myhusbandsasemni]

OC Associations Tag Game

Thanks for the tag @writingonesdreams I am heccin excited about this one

I want to do some stuff for Of Magpies and Mages so I’ll do Aiden, Haphik, Riften, and Keith who are basically the only real characters I have at the mo XD

⏳ TIME

-- Late morning - Aiden (Not too early, but not late either, the perfect warmth of the earth just finishing waking up, plenty of time to get everything done that needs to be)

-- Sunset - Haphik (The golden glow that warms your skin as a last good bye to everyone sitting on their porches with a good pipe before the world become blue and then fades into twilight, the last heat from the day rising up from the ground, already missing the sun.)

-- Sunrise - Riften (a dark sunrise, the sun is rising, but hiding behind the clouds. It smells like rain and books.)

-- Afternoon - Keith (the sun beating down on a field, working and knowing you only have a few more hours until you can leave the field and take care of chores around the hours, sitting underneath a tree now and again for a quick break before getting back out under the sun.)

🤝 RELATIONSHIP

-- Son - Aiden (the teenager who is just now realizing how much trauma they have stored inside of them, the loving kid nonetheless, the potential wrapped up in a single body.)

--Uncle - Haphik (loving and smart, careful and wise, passing out advice as well as opportunities to gain some grit out in the garden with him, as well as have a treat afterwards. An empty hole now that he is gone.)

--Stranger - Riften (you may have only seen him in the street with a feather in his dark hair, or you may have thought you knew him, but either way, he is rather hard to get to know. It is difficult for him to open up to other anymore.)

--Brother - Keith (he will be there to beat up your bullies, loving and helpful. He will take you under your wing if you look like you’re lonely enough. Hides his problems from you so he can help you with yours.)

✨ SEASON

-- Winter - Aiden (sitting inside, reading the books that your mentor needs you to read, warm drink in hand and notebook by your side where you take notes quickly before hiding your hands back in your blanket or against your drink as the snow gently falls outside and piles on the window sill.)

--Summer - Haphik (Walking down the lanes to visit neighbors, sitting outside on the porch, waving at passersby, sitting in the shade of trees and watching the kids run around and play out in a field as the light filters into speckles between the leaves above.)

-- Spring - Riften (long coats to block the rain and wind, careful of where you step as mud appears along every part of the ground, the smell of the world awakening, and the chance to go about the world in a new way.)

-- Autumn - Keith (Going out to the fields and hurrying to harvest everything, hours spent picking beans or moving gourds, kids asking if they could help eat-I mean help pick the berries and letting them do so. The soft rustle of dead stalk against dead stalk and the glorious sunsets where all of the world is bathed in warm light and clouds are painted in bright splashes of color.)

🌀 DESTRUCTION

— Whirlpool - Aiden (Small and beautiful from a distance, but as soon as you come in too close, you will be dragged in, drowned and embraced all the way down.)

— Drought - Haphik (Hot and burning, a glare that will dehydrate you completely when on his bad side. Ominous in a clear sky sort of way.)

—Plague - Riften (A creeping painfulness, quiet and slow, but inevitable. A pain that spreads with too much contact with other people.)

— Landslide - Keith (A quiet rumble, followed but a horrifying realization that the land is moving. All you can try to do is get out of the way as you watch the landscape changing right in front of your eyes, trees and boulders being swallowed up by the tons of mud and dirt.)

🌄 LANDSCAPE

— Koi pond - Aiden (Beautiful, but in need of constant care and maintenance to keep clean and heathy. Potential for many different shapes, sizes, and looks.)

— Mountain Range - Haphik (Strong and steadfast, sometimes very mysterious, but beautiful in the mornings. At once loving and dangerous, protective and destructive. Welcoming and forbidding.)

— Snake River - Riften (Yes, this very specific river. Long and weaving, large and inviting. Dangerous in certain places, but also a good place to hang out and make memories at. Standing on an observation deck and looking down at the river of water, making its way through the world in a hesitant and weaving course, but making it nonetheless.)

— Plains - Keith (Wide and open. Often windy, but hiding no secrets. Waves of plants, living from the wide expanses, open to the sun. Easiest to travel, earth below, sky above.)

Holy crap that took way too long to complete. I’ve been picking away at this for, what, a week now? That was fun though. I’m not really going to tag anyone for this game (I mean go for it if you want) so I’m just going to put in the Magpies and Mages Taglist

Of Magpies and Mages tag list: @thepotatowriter @thethistlegirl

[lastbluetardis]

Chemical Potential, epilogue

Summary: Slightly homesick and stressed about her abysmal chemistry grade, Rose Tyler meets quirky James Smith, the boy who sits in front of her in their chemistry class. They become fast friends as James makes it his personal mission to help Rose get through the semester.

Ten x Rose University AU

This chapter: ~2800 words, teen

Notes: This was written for the lovely @thegreenfairy13 as part of the @dwsecretsanta gift exchange. Also tagging @doctorroseprompts.

That’s all she wrote, folks! I hope you've had as much fun reading this story as I've had writing it. I would love to hear from you one last time to know what you thought. And if you've been lurking this whole time or binged this in one sitting, I'd love to hear from you, too :)

AO3 | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10

Two Years Later

“Jeans… jumpers… socks…” James rooted through his suitcase one final time, sifting through the clothes to make sure he had everything he would need for a four-day trip.

“Nearly finished?” He spun at Rose’s voice and saw her leaning casually against door frame of their bedroom, her thick winter coat draped across her arm.

He nodded, zipping the suitcase shut. “Yep, just double-checking. I packed enough pants as though I'm planning to wee myself every day on this trip.”

Rose wrinkled her nose at him but giggled. “You're so gross.” She skipped up to him and draped her arms over his shoulder to peck a swift kiss to his cheek. Lingering with her mouth close to his ear, she murmured, “But now I know I can do other, sexier things to you to make sure you go through all those pants you've brought.” She nipped at his earlobe, making a shiver ripple down his spine, before she pulled back, an impish gleam in her eyes.

“You menace,” he said, his voice was hoarser than he'd like. She just waggled her eyebrows a him, and held out her hand. He hefted the suitcase off the bed and asked, “Is yours already in the car?”

“Yep.”

James followed Rose down the hall to where his Aunt Sarah was standing by the front door.

“Thanks for doing this,” he told her.

“Of course,” she said. “Now go. Have fun. I’ll see you two next week.”

“Kicking me out of my own house?” James raised an eyebrow.“Thanks for doing this,” he told her.

“Of course,” she said. “Now go. Have fun. I’ll see you two next week.”

“Kicking me out of my own house?” James raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, shut up. You’ll want to get on the road to miss the afternoon traffic. Don’t you worry about a thing. Just have fun.” She reached out to him, and he dutifully stepped into her arms to accept her embrace. “Good luck,” she whispered in his ear, giving him a squeeze that didn’t at all settle the butterflies that were suddenly churning in his stomach. Then she pulled back and kissed his cheek. “Go, go. Drive safely. Let me know when you get there.”

“Thanks again for taking care of the cats,” Rose said, skipping up to Sarah for a goodbye hug.

“It’s no trouble at all,” she said, kissing Rose’s cheek.

When Rose pulled back from his aunt, James rested his hand on her lower back. She leaned into his touch and beamed up at him with a smile that inflated his heart a few sizes.

“Ready to go?” he murmured, bending down to press his lips to the top of her head.

“Yep! Bye Aunt Sarah. Bye babies,” she cooed to the line of four cats pacing in the foyer. “Bye Gollum, wherever the hell you are.”

Sarah had driven in from Michigan earlier in the week along with her two cats in order to take care of their three cats while James and Rose went up to Cherry Springs State Park. It was one of the best places in the country to stargaze, and it was only a few hours upstate.

James was excited to spend a few days alone in the middle of nowhere with Rose so they could both decompress after this latest round of final exams. For James, since he was graduating early, it was his very last round of exams. This trip was a way for him and Rose to celebrate privately for a few days, even though his graduation ceremony wasn't until the springtime. 

And, if all went well, he and Rose would be celebrating something else, too.

James carried his suitcase to the car, tucked it into the back next to Rose’s, then settled into the driver’s seat for the next few hours. He kept his hand twined with Rose’s for most of the drive, and they passed the time listening to an audio book that neither of them was really invested in.

Four hours later, only narrowly missing rush hour traffic, he pulled into the parking lot of the guest services building.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. He saw she was unbuckling her seat belt. “You don’t need to come in with me.”

“I need to stretch out my legs. My bum went numb from sitting for so long.”

“Need me to rub it?” he asked, winking.

She snorted and smacked his chest lightly before she stood up out of the car.

It was a simple matter of signing a few forms then receiving the key to their cabin rental. When he returned to the car, he saw Rose bent over touching her toes. He was given a glorious view of her arse, and he let out a low, appreciative whistle.

She snapped up and whirled around, fire simmering in her eyes. It was extinguished when she realized who was ogling her.

“Just me,” he said, holding his hands up. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”

“Thought you might’ve been some wanker catcalling.”

“Nope. Only your wanker.”

Rose rolled her eyes fondly, then they both reluctantly got back into the car so James could drive them to their cabin. It was a small rental unit, only two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen, but it would suit their needs for the next several days.

They passed the evening uneventfully, walking arm in arm around the campground before retreating back to their cabin to make dinner with the food they’d packed. When the sun had set, they bundled up against the cool December air and went outside to sit on the porch swing. The air wasn’t unbearably bitter, but it did have a crisp sting to it that was made manageable with hats and gloves and, of course, a good cuddle.

James wrapped an arm around Rose and tucked her in to his side, enjoying the feel of her next to him. She turned her body into his, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his middle.

He rocked the swing slowly, using only the tips of his toes and heels. The motion was soothing, and managed to calm his sudden rush of nerves. The small velvet box that contained a small platinum ring seemed to weigh a ton in his coat pocket, where it had been resting all day.

The elation he’d felt when buying it hadn’t gone away, but nerves had cropped up too. He was fairly certain Rose would say yes, so he didn’t know why he was so anxious. Nevertheless, he was. And what was even more terrifying was finding a way to ask her. Surely he couldn’t simply blurt out, “Hey, so I was thinking… d’you want to get married?”

Soft, warm lips grazed his jaw. He hummed and looked down.

“Penny for ‘em,” Rose said gently, giving his waist a small squeeze.

“Oh, just thinking.”

“Obviously,” she said, sticking her tongue out as she grinned.

He rolled his eyes, then rested his cheek on top of her plum-colored beanie.

“I was just thinking… tomorrow’s one of my favorite days of the year.”

“Mmm,” she agreed, and he could hear the impish grin when she said, “It’s the day we went from study buddies to fuck buddies.”

He choked on a laugh.

That wasn’t quite true. Tomorrow was the anniversary of their first kiss, and the day they entered into their relationship. Becoming Rose’s boyfriend had been the best thing to ever happen to him. If he’d thought their first kiss had been brilliant—and oh, it had been brilliant—it was nothing compared to the rest of their courtship.

If he thought he had loved her when he’d first confessed his feelings to her, that was a mere drop in the ocean to what was in his heart now. He and Rose had grown even closer over the last two years as they fumbled their way through dating. The first few months had passed by like a dream as they spent nearly every waking (and sleeping) moment together. They’d gone on dates, told each other every little trivial fact about their lives, and started exploring a physical relationship.

Despite his inexperience, he’d caught on quickly and, to his unending relief, had not made a complete fool of himself the first time he and Rose had made love. It was slow and tender, full of laughing and teasing, and so perfectly them. Their ardor and desire hadn’t cooled a degree in the past year and a half; he desired Rose as much as he did their first night together.

Even when the high of a new relationship had worn off, the magic was still there. Even if some days were harder than others.

James’s stomach hurt when he remembered the strained month when Rose had hidden the fact that she’d been in communication with her ex-boyfriend, Jimmy. As it turned out, she had only been talking to him to repeatedly let him know that she was never coming home and that she wanted nothing to do with him. But James hadn’t known that, and he’d thrown some awful accusations at her, which led her to throwing some back at him. After spending two days apart, they came together and cleared the air, shedding many tears interspersed with apologies and affirmations of their never-ending love for each other.

That had happened just a few months in to their relationship and was one of their worst argument to date. But they’d made it through together and came out stronger on the other side.

Of course, they'd had disagreements and arguments since then, but nothing that a deep breath and a calm conversation couldn't sort through. More recently, however, some hiccups had arisen earlier in the month when James began receiving acceptance letters from the various graduate programs he’d applied to. Now that he had a stack of acceptance letters to sift through, it was becoming all too real that, come next August, he would be moving away from Rose for at least a year, until she graduated and decided if she wanted to join him in whatever city he ended up.

However, his wonderful, brilliant, compassionate Rose had reassured him that there was not a distance long enough that would ever make her stop loving him. The confidence and vehemence in her declaration had made him fall in love with her all over again. And, incidentally, had been the catalyst he’d needed to pull the trigger on the engagement ring he’d had his eye on for months.

 “Hey.” James was abruptly jarred back to the present when Rose knocked her elbow into his ribs. “I’m just teasing.”

“No, I know,” he answered quickly. “I guess I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

And here he was, back to wondering how the hell he was supposed to ask the love of his life to become his wife.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rose offered. “Are you worried about grad school? Because you know that we’ll make it work, no matter where you decide to go. We’ll always be all right, you and me.”

He exhaled, his breath clouding in front of him, and he kissed the top of her head. “I know.”

“Always remember that I love you more than anything, James,” she said quietly, but the weight of her words resounded into his very soul. “I love you more now than I did two years ago. I fall in love with you a little more every day we spend together.”

“So you didn’t fall in love with me during that week I spent at a conference in California?”

She smacked his chest. “You arse.”

He giggled, and suddenly he didn’t feel nearly as terrified anymore. Leave it to Rose to manage to calm him down when she didn’t even realize he was panicking.

They lapsed back into a comfortable silence, rocking together on the porch, until a few minutes later, Rose squealed. “Ooh, shooting star!”

James looked up and scanned the skies in the general vicinity she was pointing to. He finally saw the fading streak of light disappear into the darkness. He looked down at her and saw she had her eyes closed in concentration.

A moment later, they popped open.

“Did you make a wish?” she asked, snuggling back into his side. Even though he hadn’t, he nodded. “What’d you wish for? Unless you’re worried it won’t come true.”

His mouth went a little dry as a knot clenched in his belly. This had been the opening he’d been praying for all night.

He swallowed, buying himself time to figure out what, exactly, he wanted to say to her.

“I wished for a hundred more years like the last two we’ve had,” he whispered into her ear, slowly worming the hand not holding her into his coat pocket. “I wished I would always fall asleep and wake up beside you.” He managed to one-handedly remove his glove inside his pocket, then grabbed the velvet box with trembling fingers. “I wished to love you and be loved by you forever.” He took the box out of his hand, flipped it open, and held it out in front of Rose. She gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. “But more than anything… I wished to become your husband, and that you’d become my wife.”

James pressed a hard kiss to the side of her head, then let go of her so he could slide off the swing and kneel before her. Tears glistened in her eyes, lining them with silver as he looked up at her, trying to slow his heartbeat. It was thudding in his ears, making him a little dizzy.

Rose was staring at the sapphire and diamond ring nestled into the silk padding of the box. Her gaze kept darting between his face and the ring and back again.

“I don’t think you can have that many wishes on one shooting star,” she said faintly, but she was wearing that teasing grin he loved so much.

“Well, I figure we’d see more than one this weekend,” he drawled, trying to not panic that she hadn’t yet given him an answer. “I’ll cash them in later. So what’d’you say, Rose Tyler? Will you do me the extraordinary honor of marrying me?”

A little sob bubbled up her throat, and suddenly she was in his arms. She’d launched herself off the swing to crash into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she hugged him hard enough to almost be uncomfortable. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

He exhaled a shuddering breath, and then he was hugging her as tightly as she was hugging him. He buried his face into her neck, his eyes prickling with emotion. Love, relief, more love, and a pure, unending joy.

Rose pulled back first, her eyes red and puffy and her cheeks wet with tears. It made him feel better about the moisture he could feel burning behind his eyes. She sniffled, then broke into tiny, beaming giggles, and he couldn’t help but echo the sound.

They were soon laughing somewhat hysterically on the front porch of a rural, northern Pennsylvanian cabin in the middle of the night as a cold December wind picked up around them. But James didn’t feel the chill, not when he was the happiest, luckiest person on Earth.

“I love you,” he said, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face where it got caught at the corner of her mouth. “So much, Rose.”

“I love you, too,” she replied. She ripped off her gloves and shoved them into the pockets of her jacket, then wiggled the fingers of her left hand. “Put it on me?”

He did. The fit was perfect, and Rose cooed in admiration at the beautiful ring adorning her finger.

“This is so perfect,” she sighed. “How did you know that this is exactly what I would love?”

“I creeped on your Pinterest account,” he admitted sheepishly.

Rose burst out laughing, but she continued holding her hand out in front of her, admiring the way the porch light shimmered off the gemstones.

“I love it,” she said, turning her head to look at him. “I love it.”

“I’m glad.” He leaned forward to brush a kiss to her cheek.

His lips glided down her jaw before skating over to cover hers. She parted her lips for him automatically and tilted her head to the side to free up their noses. He sighed against her mouth and wrapped one arm around her shoulders as his other went to her hair. His fingers met with her hat instead, making Rose grin.

He yanked her hat off and dropped it to the side so he could twine his fingers through the silky strands of her hair. She groaned when he scraped his fingernails across her scalp.

“I love you,” he murmured between frantic kisses. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” she panted when he pulled her head back gently to give attention to her neck. Her hands went to his hair—he’d somehow lost his hat, too—keeping him where he was as he bit and licked and sucked at her neck. “Forever.”

“Forever,” he agreed, latching his mouth to the corner of her neck and shoulder.

She shuddered in his arms, but he couldn’t tell if it was from arousal or the cold. A steady breeze had picked up and was biting through their clothes.

“Want to go inside?” he mumbled into her skin.

“Yes please,” Rose gasped, arching into his touch and gripping his hair tighter when he nipped her again.

James chuckled, then planted a parting kiss to the red mark he’d been making on her neck. After pushing himself to his feet, he reached down and helped Rose stand, then he guided her inside the bright, warm cabin.

The End

[silviasutton1989]

T.T.K. Chapter 20.2 “Shock waves”

A/N: Hey guys here it is! I’m not going to say much about it but I really do hope you guys are still reading and I hope to post more over time.

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2200

Summary: Everyone is affected by the death of Constantine

Catch Up: MASTERLIST

"Good, morning Cordonia. I am Jade Perro, reporting to you live at the state funeral of former King Constantine I. As you can see behind me the procession has made it up to the chapel where the former King has now made his final journey. Walking close behind are his sons Leo and King Liam. As you can see the two men are showing great strength though the circumstances of their father's death was a great shock to us all. Sources say that he suffered a heart attack during the wedding of the Duke and Duchess of Valtoria, yet there has still been very little information of that fateful night from the monarchy. However, today let us focus on his life and his accomplishments as king. King Constantine:  the only child of King Leonard III and Queen Mother Maria, he worked to make his reign of over 30 years one of the most innovative in Cordonian history. He...."

"Uh...I can't watch this anymore!" Riley turns the tv on mute then tosses the remote aside. Keeping her eyes on the screen watching her Liam as he watched his father's coffin enter the church.

"Then don't." Drake counters. He knew a fight was coming so he braced himself against the nearest wall, his eyes closed his breaths deep and steady to calm him.

"We should be there with them. How can you call Liam your friend and you're not even by his side right now?" 

"I'm doing what's best for us Riley!" His tone was louder than he knew it needed to be so he took another breath. Look, just because the media doesn't know how Constantine died doesn't mean we should act like we don't. He was killed...hell he was electrocuted! Riley you're pregnant there's no way in hell I'm letting you anywhere near that chaos. Besides I talked to Olivia everyone is fine. Until we hear otherwise we should --we will stay where it's safe."

"Drake...." She wanted to say more, but she knew he was right. And any other time in any other situation she would have left the second she heard about the attack. But her child came first and so did Drake. Yet and still knowing that gave her little ease as she watched her friends all walk into the church. None of them together, all of them with the same fearful look on their faces. Nausea grew as she looked around her glorious mansion and she didn't know if it was morning sickness or the growing sense of guilt she now had.

Olivia walked three steps behind him. It was far enough for him to seem alone yet close enough for him to know she was still there. He hadn't spoke in days since the funeral. Other than the speeches she had written for him to during his several press conferences, he mostly stayed silent not even telling the staff good morning. She had also noticed he barley ate. She made a mental note to ask the cook to make lemon chicken soup for dinner tonight. Liam loved that as a kid. 

Liam opened the door of his chambers and like clockwork off went his tie and suit coat with his pants and shoes before he crawled into bed.

And just like the last passed few days it was up to her to clean his mess. In all honesty last week she loved it. Planning Constantine's funeral, handling the non disclosures of everyone that witnesses the electrocution. She knew she could run the country but actually doing it just made her feel that more accomplished. But as the days went on and the funeral well over Liam's daze never seemed to pass. Empathy was never Olivia's strong suit she was more of a "get things done cry never" sort of girl so as she picked up his dirty socks from the for she couldn't hold her tongue any longer.

"Look Liam we need to---"

A wrap at the door stops her short. It opens, not waiting for an answer and Leo storms though.

"Just thought I'd let the great king know I'm off." He looks at the large lump in the bed rolling his eyes before turning to walk out.

"Wait you can't just leave him like this. He needs you!" Olivia takes his arm. 

"Let him go!" his voice from the covers yell. "He didn't give a damn about this country before why once father's dead would he now!"

"Oh like you gave a damn about father?!"Leo charges towards the bed, yanking back the covers revealing his brother. "My father died because of you because you weren't there because your a horrible king and no one wants you here! I blame you for all of this! And...and if this country goes down by your hands then dammit I don't want any part in it."

"Yeah?! Well get the fuck out!" Liam shoot out from the bed shoving Leo. "I don't need some coward how couldn't fill the shoes I have to walk in every damn day tell me what the fuck I'm doing wrong! Who the hell do you think you are? Who the hell do you think you were to him? You were a disappointment! You were a screw up and out of the words of the great Constantine he always knew you couldn't be king. He was relieved when you abdicated Leo!"

Olivia could only watch as the men stared each other down. She could see Leo's hurt, his anger, and in some ways his guilt, but there was nothing in Liam's eyes, no hurt, no guilt, not even anger just...nothing. She clutched the clothes she had picked up off the floor to her chest, in that moment she had never noticed how much Liam looked like his father. In that moment he resembled Constantine more than Leo ever could.

"As king I order you to leave the grounds...my grounds immediately." The men straightened their spines in sync and Leo turned towards the door.  He looked to his brother one final time before slamming the door behind him.

Liam grabbed the cover from the floor wrapping it around him before landing back into the bed. And then the room was silent.

"Liam..." 

"Olivia. Don't."

"You just kicked your brother out of the palace. What if he never comes back?"

"I told him to leave now not forever. And trust me he will be back. Either he'll run out of money or we will have some function that he will weasel his way back to be in. He doesn't do anything but leave when things get tough...that's all he's ever been good at."

"Liam you don't mean--"

"It's my fault he's dead, Liv." he says quietly.

"No, it's no--"

"I went looking for you that night. You had ran off and you looked so scared and confused I just...I wanted to help you. It should have been me. They weren't trying to kill my father they were trying to kill me!"

She sat next to him on the bed and he pulls her underneath the covers. His lips crashing against hers, more pain than pleasure. Almost on purpose, as if he waned to hurt her. His hands rough pull at her pants yanking them as far down as he pleased.

"Liam..." Olivia breathes trying to slow him down but his tounge is intrusive as if to silence her.

"This is what you want, huh? Nobody else is here but you? You're all I have left Liv. " he kisses her neck and chest with his chapped dry lips. His body was warm, so warm warm against her own. 

"Liam I'm leaving." The words somehow seems to just flow right out. The kissing stopped and he stayed quiet. "I have to go Lythikos... tomorrow."

"You don't have to go. You want to go." turning his back to her as if she wasn't even there.

"It's both. I want to go and I have to. The winter festival is Lythikos' biggest event. Our ski lodges are all booked up.  Reports are coming back that this will be the highest amount of tourists we've ever seen and Lucretia has planned the entire thing. I have to go as duchess I have an obligation to--"

"No one is stopping you.  Good bye." 

"Liam..." she sighs trying to find the right words. "I know your father's death is weighing on you right now. But your country needs you more than ever. You have to get up. You can't lay here and--"

"Why are you still here?!  I will be fine...without you."

She wanted to slap him. But also to kiss him. To tell him to suck it up and that this feeling of loneliness he is feeling she has felt since she was 5 years old. But she also wanted to lay his head in her lap run her fingers through his hair and let him cry. She wanted to make love to him to make him happy to see that smile in his almond shaped eyes again. But instead she slowly walked out of his chambers wondering how far gone was that smile, and would she ever see it again.

Once Olivia made it to Lythikos there was only one thing she wanted to do...no she needed to do.

The sounds of the water trickling down onto the tile floor was the best sound she'd heard in months. The steam filled her bathroom and soon she was surrounded by fog. She let the water run down her her long red locks letting it drip down her body letting it wash away everything: her mother's past, Isaac's betrayal, Liam loosing himself, not to mention Boss being oddly silent since Constantine's death. She was home now and home isn't just a safe place to run to when the world reveals it's darkness, it's also a place to start over regroup to collect her thoughts and figure out how to fix it all.

She stood underneath the large shower head playing out her next moves, unaware of the large figure so close behind her. He had been waiting for her missing her almost.  He pressed himself against the shower glass just watching as she washed her body, her hands cleaning the places he couldn't wait to touch. 

Mick had been so patient with her. His days for the last few months had been nothing but labor getting ready for the festival. He learned a lot about Lythikos, and Olivia. He learned about her family and how they died when she was young, he learned of her accomplishments and her tenacity, but all of that meant little to him compared to the day he found her bedroom. There were many nights he spent in there imaging his hands around that porcelain neck just one more time. 

Ugh... it's so frustrating watching her. Her eyes shut so tight. He glues his waist to the shower glass needing it to feel like her body. Maybe he didn't have to wait. Just take her now right here. No! He could wait. And as he steps back from the shower his hand prints begin to fade away, hidden beneath the steamy fog.

"Your Majesty I must speak with you, urgently."

"Yes Bastien?" Liam straightens his tie once again, the damn thing had never felt so stifling before.

"It's the matter of the upcoming Winter Social, in Lythikos." Bastien had a look on his face as if he was walking in a minefield. "As you know I have been looking into the attacks starting with the very first one last year. We still believe the attackers were hired and more likely foreigners."

Bastien could hear Liam's knee bouncing against the table he sat at and knew he should just spit it out.

"Well we did obtain some surveillance from the night of the first attack and  were able to pin point those who were actual staff members from those who were probably the attackers."

He hands Liam a photo a large build man in a waiters suit. 

"As you know with the past riots and other invasions especially recently I have been more proactive with vetting the venues in which you will be attending. So it is no surprise that I have already researched Lythikos and.."

"What are you trying to say Bastien?" Liam's impatience was quick his voice sharp.

"I'm saying that this man here is most assuredly one of the attackers from the Homecoming Ball and he is also most assuredly an active staff member of Duchess Olivia Nevarkis."

Bastien hands him another photo one of the same man carrying wood into the Nevarkis mansion.

"No I don't... I can't believe this. Olivia wouldn't..." no other words came out. His forehead wrinkled in confusion as if the two photos in his hand made no since, as if nothing in the world made any sense. 

"Your Highness we must consider the facts and since the last attack against you resulted in the death of a former monarch, we must take action. I hate to say this but I am almost certain that the person who has been actively trying to kill you is none other than the Duchess of Lythikos."

Tagging: I tag randomly so if you would like to say tagged let me know if you never want to be tagged again let me know.

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[reifromrfa]

Magic Moments: A Weasley Twins One-shot

Happy New Year, everyone!!! 

This is my Secret Santa gift to @rozenwaffle ! <3 Not MM, but I really love the Weasley twins! I hope you like it <3 

It was glorious.

The slow graceful motion of their youngest brother as the snowball thwacks against his cheek, the skin of his face rippling like a million ocean waves. The way his body free falls into the powdered snow, his open mouth being stuffed with beautiful white ice.

Fred and George snicker as they lean against the opposite sides of a tree, watching Ron fumble around, lifting his head and spitting snow out of his mouth.

"Fred! George! You foul gits!" Ron scrambles to his feet, eyes scanning the premises for the twins. When his eyes zone in on them, he's too late. Another snowball arcs across the air and lands on his face, the impact and his unsteady footing making him fall into the icy sea again.

The twins let out a sigh and shake their heads in mock sadness.

"What do you think, George?"

"I dunno, Fred. This one seems to be lacking in the brains department."

"Could it be because--"

"--we dropped him when he was a baby?"

Ron hobbles to his feet but the twins raise their wands and flick them towards their brother. Snow hovers into the air, forming two round balls before zooming towards the youngest male Weasley. Ron dodges one, but gets slammed right on his forehead with the other.

Fred sighs. "What."

"A."

"Disappointment," both twins say together.

"Oh leave him alone. You two are bullies." Ginny says as she passes by from feeding the chickens.

"We can't help it." Fred speaks up.

"He's an easy target." George pipes up.

"And besides..."

"He needs to toughen up."

"Be a man."

"Well he can also be a woman."

"We'd still accept him."

"Little Rona."

"Ronnie."

"Rosemary Alexandria Maria Dorothy Elizabeth Wumpykins."

"The Third."

Ginny shakes her head but she can't help the smile at her older brothers' antics. They are so silly, so outrageous. Two identical trouble-makers. Some twins strove hard to be different. But with Fred and George, they seemed to want to be identical in every way possible...if only to confuse and play pranks on the gullible victims.

Ron finally manages to get up and he scoops up a handful of snow, eyes focused on the two smirking faces gazing back at him. The twins aren't even moving from their position, their postures relaxed as they stare down their brother, watching as Ron decided who he would aim for.

Ron's gaze finally lands on George, but as the ball flies towards the younger twin, George merely ducks and straightens, the frozen slush landing on the ground behind him.

"Going to have to do better than that, Ron."

Fred chuckles but suddenly his face feels cold, the shock of the cold ice making him push himself off the tree, running a hand down his face. Ginny is already scooping up another handful of snow, rolling it around her hands traditionally, without the use of magic.

"SABOTAGE!" George bellows, kicking off the tree and running to the side of the yard. He bends down as he runs, filling his hand with snow before chucking it behind him, at his sister.

But Ginny dodges it easily, sprinting across the snow in chase of her brother. She gasps though when ice hits the back of her neck, some of it rolling down her shirt.

"Don't let your guard down, sis!" Fred snickers behind her, rolling another ball and aiming for Ron. Said Weasley is scooping up handfuls of snow, rolling them together to create a bigger counter-attack. However, when he throws it, Fred runs diagonally. Thus, Ron's ball meets the ground once again.

Ron is further annoyed when he hears Fred and George's laughs being carried by the wind. Quickening his pace, Ron closes the gap then hurls his body forward, tackling his older brother to the ground.

"Man down!" George shouts, doing a U-turn and running towards his two brothers, who were rolling around. Ginny hurls an attack at her brother and George lets out a strangled cry as the small round ball of ice hits his arm. “Another man down! Ahhhhh I’m hit, Fred!” George does a dramatic twirl then proceeds to free fall onto the powdery snow, making Ginny laugh at her brother's antics.

"George, NOOOOO!" Fred exclaims just as dramatically. With renewed energy, he hurls his younger brother off him and crawls to his twin, the entire scene making the two younger Weasleys snort and chuckle.

"Go on without me, Fred." George says, feigning a cough.

"No! Don't talk like that, George! We still need to nick that singing cauldron from Filch's office and place under Snape's bed!"

"No...I...I can't, Fred. It's too late for me. You need to finish our lifelong goal...solo."

"I won't accept it! I won't!" Fred clutches his brother's body and Ginny is howling in laughter, clutching her stomach as tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Good...bye...Fred." George closes his eyes and his body goes limp.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Fred roars in exaggerated slow motion, shaking his fist at the sky.

"Oy! Stop screaming I'm trying to sleep!" George tells him. In a heartbeat, the younger twin's fingers form into a fist, snow trapped in his hands. Then he slams the ball into his brother's face with a war-cry. Fred drops his twin's body, the cold slush jolting his system. He spits out the snow that got into his mouth and scrambles to his feet, George already running towards the house.

"I'll get you for this, George!"

Ron finally manages to land hits on his brothers, but by this point, the siblings are all laughing, tossing balls at each other.

There's nothing particularly amazing about the moment. Having a snowball fight in the middle of winter is actually the most cliche activity that teenagers could do. But to the siblings, everything in that exact moment feels magical.

After sometime, the four Weasleys lay on their backs in the snow, each looking at the twilight sky. They're catching their breaths, cheeks flushed, their clothes and hair dusted with snow. Fred found himself wishing for more moments like this…there’s something extraordinary in the most ordinary acts. And everyday should always be made into an extraordinary one.

“We should head back inside, mum will be calling for us soon.” Ginny remarks, sitting up and brushing off her coat.

“Yeah. I’m starving.” Ron adds, getting to his feet.

Fred and George are about to do the same when they hear a voice.

“What are you all doing there? You’ll drag snow into the house and you’ll have to clean up the mess,” comes Percy’s annoyed tone.

The twins look at each other. A mischievous smile is mirrored in each other’s faces —identical deviants.

“Say Percy…” Fred says, his hand slowly closing on the snow beneath him. George does the same.

“…would you care…”

“…for a…”

“…snowcone?”

The twins sit up, reel back their arm and throw their balls. Right into Percy’s irritated face.

It was glorious.  

The slow graceful motion of their uptight brother as the snowball thwacks against his cheek, the skin of his face rippling like a million ocean waves. The way his body free falls into the powdered snow, his open mouth being stuffed with beautiful white ice.

“Run for it, Fred!”

“Right behind you, George!”

Happy 2019, guys! :D Cherish every moment with loved ones <3 

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[takespaceblog]

#10yearchallenge: Obama’s Inauguration

January 20, 2009, Washington, DC — I stood shivering in two winter coats for hours, alone but not truly, as thousands gathered to watch the first inauguration of President Barack Obama. It’d been an epic journey to get to that point, for all of us. Waking at 3:00 am, almost dying on the Metro when the train sped away and my feet were neither on the platform or the car—too many people and not enough room for another body, a friend’s brother held me while yelling to make room. Hours of lines and crowds and security, frigid temperatures, some complaints but nothing in comparison to what it took Obama to get there. Centuries of sacrifice were finally paying off and I was there to witness it. Having voted in my first election and begged my representatives for tickets hours after he won, I was there to see it—a moment where the world changed for the better.

In many ways, the inauguration marked the beginning of adulthood for me. Just months before my 20th birthday, everything of import seemed to happen in 2009 as I galloped into my twenties without any idea of how little I knew. In the months to follow that glorious day, I’d have my first real break up and say good bye to my first love. I’d live alone for the first time. I’d study abroad in a country where I didn’t speak the language and manage to get around on my own (privet, Russia). I’d somehow convince my classmates I was mature enough to lead them on a service trip to South America. I’d get drunk and smoke pot (kind of) for the first time. A friend would die suddenly. New loves would come along and I’d learn just how complicated love (and lust) could be.

So many things happened and yet it was the before of so many others. Swine flu hit the world and I was quarantined in multiple countries without ever getting sick. Michael Jackson died. Amy Winehouse was still alive, I remember because it seemed appropriate to dressed up as her for Halloween. I learned about Lululemon and Angry Birds and sustainability for the first time. I did not have an iPhone, most people didn’t. I started my first blog. I still ate meat and drank vodka, both have long since fallen by the wayside. Instagram did not exist. Twitter did, but it wasn’t a thing. Blockbuster was still alive, but dying—I remember going to a fire sale, excited to buy DVDs. Now trendy neighborhoods in San Francisco were still up-and-coming, studios could be found for under a grand.

How could I imagine what was to come? How could any of us? Anyone could have told me that’d my twenties would be rough, they probably did and I ignored them. But what was to come politically? No one was thinking Donald Trump. How absurd. If someone had come on stage at the end of that cold January day in 2009 and said, “Donald Trump will be the next person to stand here and be sworn in as President,” we would have laughed in their face, or worse. A Donald Trump presidency was incomprehensible at that moment. Even now, if it weren’t real, it’d be too far-fetched to warrant a fictional story. And yet here we are.

As I think back, I’m sure someone told me my twenties would be hard and I definitely ignored them. Twenty is that forgotten birthday between 18 and 21 that means very little, only signaling further excitement to come. But thirty? A whole sub-genre of self-help literature exists around that birthday. My father says my mother cried. On days I’m feeling particularly bitter I think, “but at least she were already married!” I’m almost thirty and alone. And unemployed; another thing they don’t tell you when you’re twenty and still in college—a career in the arts (even if you have a Masters) is impossible. Actually they did say that, but I was almost twenty and ignored them.

Years passed dizzyingly fast and so too came the good and bad of Obama’s presidency: the first year or so when we worried he’d be a one-term president, the never-ending wars in the middle east, the Affordable Care Act, Bin Laden, the slow improvement of the economy. I watched as I struggled through my twenties—thankful when Obamacare was there to save my life, happily surprised when results were called early the night of the re-election, but mostly Obama was the one thing I could count on in my twenties, a reminder that no matter what happened at least we elected him into office.

During a recent “I’m almost thirty” freak out, I realized my twenties sucked; they do for most people. College does little to prepare us for the real world. Even if my thirties don’t get any easier at least I’ll be used to the uncertainty, the letdown, and the confusion. Why am I worrying? Because society and pop culture tell me too. But my thirties will be better. A lot of my firsts are finally over. I can’t be sexually assaulted again for the first time. I won’t be diagnosed with anorexia or sent to treatment for the first time derailing the plan I’d had since high school. I’ve already been put on antidepressants and taken a job I hated just to get health insurance. I’ve asked the man I thought I was going to marry to move out. I’ve stood at friends’ weddings feelingly utterly alone and I’ve lost a family member I truly loved. I’ve already realized the profession of my dreams is probably not going to work out and I still have no idea what I want to do with my life. I know other firsts will come but at least I have these shitty ones (mostly) under control.

Ten years ago, an underdog took the White House from whom many considered to be the worst president of our time. It won’t be easy to do it again, but at least we’ll know we’ve done it before.

[jimfromsales]

The next Avenger Part 1 Warnings: Literally none          Word count: 1720

So it’s my new fic!  This one will be a series, not sure how long yet, but I hope you guys like it!  Let me know what you think :)

The next Avenger Part 1

STEVE’S POV

“Come on, Steve, keep it up!  Only two more to go, you can do it! Yes, yes!  There’s my winter soldier!”    My training partner, Roy, grabs my hand and gives me a solid lift up.  He’s big and burly, the perfect partner for my workout, because the only other person who can spot me on the muscle machines is Thor.  Hulk could, but not Bruce Banner, and I don’t think that the Hulk could actually be persuaded to stand by a lift machine calmly waiting for me to give up without smashing something first.    “So you’re all done for the day, what’re you going to do?”  Roy asks in his booming voice.    “I might take a nap later, I’m feeling pretty tired after lifting all that weight.”    Roy socks me in the arm and I can feel my muscles groaning in protest.  “You’re just getting started, you can’t be tired yet!  What about dinner?”    I sigh inwardly. Roy is a nice guy, but he’s a little slow on the social cues. “Not today, but maybe another time, okay?”    “No problem Steve!  Have a good one!”  I watch him retreat to the locker room before walking towards my towel and water bottle.      Suddenly the doors to the gym swing open and a man who looks vaguely familiar walks in. “Hi,” he says breathlessly, as if he’s been running the entire way here.  “Are you the only one in today?”  He asks, pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose.    “Yep.”  I know him from somewhere, but I can’t put my finger on it.    “Oh well.” He looks disappointed for a moment but then puts on a cheerful grin.  “Anyway, I’m from the front desk, you’ve probably seen me before- but I do work the night shift most days, so it might be easy to miss- well I’m blathering- anyways, there’s a new Avenger and so Headquarters was wondering if you could show her around?  Yeah, that’s great, and I have to get back to work, so I’ll let her introduce herself.  Bye!”  And he pops back out of the room before I can process everything that he’s said.    “Hey, wait!  Who sent you from Headquarters?”  There is no answer.  I see a face peer around the door.    “Come on in,” I sigh, wishing that I could go home instead of staying here to provide the grand welcome for some new Avenger that we DON’T need.    I realize that I have been mistaken in thinking that we don’t need a new Avenger.  As soon as I see her face, my brain lets me know quite clearly that this is someone we can not have the Avengers without.  “Hello,” I say, abruptly ceasing my pacing of the room.      “Hello,”  she replies, giving me a soft smile.  “I’m Y/N.”  She grins as she looks around the room, taking it all in.  I can tell that she’s not in this for fame, and she’s not going to be hard to work with either.  She looks just happy.  Her eyes are sparkling the way the rest of ours used to, before we had to kill people, and watch people be killed.      “I’m Steve Rogers.”  I reach out my hand and she bounds down the stairs towards me to grasp it tightly.  A strange sensation flutters throughout my whole body as we touch, and I feel a bit weakened as we let go of each other.    “Well, are you going to give me the grand tour, Mr. Rogers?”    “Steve is fine, thank you.”  I laugh.  “I’m not that old, am I?” She grins at me.  “Well, technically speaking you are…”  I roll my eyes. “You’ll have a blast here.  Everyone else razzes me about it too.” “Sorry,” she says quickly, looking at me nervously, like she thinks she may have taken the joke too far.  It’s strange, because ordinarily I might have gotten secretly offended at this point, but she has such an innocence about her that I don’t believe she would try to cause real insult. “It’s really no problem, I don’t actually mind that much.  Now, where are you sleeping?  Are you living here, or…?” Y/N turns red.  “I’m not actually sure, to be honest, the details were a little sketchy on everything.  It was a bit rushed on their part.” “Who’s they?”   She gestures into the air.  “Them! I don’t know, they didn’t tell me a lot, only that I was coming here.” “That’s odd.”  I frown.  Why wouldn’t they have warned us first?  And why doesn’t Y/N know who sent her?  You’d think that we’d be more prepared for situations like this.  My only thought is that there must be some imminent danger that we have to train for, otherwise we would take longer to gather recruits. “Can we start the tour?  Or is this a bad time?”  Y/N interrupts my inner monologue.   “Yes, of course, sorry, where should we begin? Here, perhaps?  This is the training gym.  A lot of weights and a lot of sweat… Not super interesting.  And then in this room here…”

***********************************************************************************************

That night I meet up with Nat for coffee downtown, after having escorted Y/N back to her makeshift room that we decided on while we waited for a real decision to be made by Headquarters.    “New recruit, huh?”  Natasha stirs her coffee with a spoon, while I slowly tear off pieces of my doughnut and drop them into my mouth.    “Yeah, she seems nice,” I say, swallowing my mouthful as I talk.  “A little on the naive side, but Tony’ll beat that out of her eventually.”    “The way he did to you?”  Natasha gives me a teasing smile.    “Exactly like that.”      Natasha doesn’t say anything for a minute.  Then, “so what can she do?”    “What?”  I choke on my doughnut.    “What can she do?  What’s her special thing?  Why is she in the Avengers?”  I give her a blank stare, and she glares at me. “So you think she’s a great person, but you have no details of what she does, or why she’s in the Avengers?”  I slowly shake my head.  “So, theoretically, she could be a Russian spy sent to take down our first line of defense with her ‘endearing naivety,’ is that it?”    “Come on Nat, we already have a Russian spy!”  She kicks me under the table.    “I’m serious, Steve!  You can’t be so trusting all the time, you’re gonna get yourself killed someday.”      I give Natasha a long look, and she returns it.  “You ask her, or I will.  And she better hope she has an answer.”  Natasha looks like she’s getting up to go and kill Y/N this instant, but I stand up alongside her.      “I will, I will,” I sigh.  

   *********************************************************************************************** BRUCE’S POV        I slip off my lab coat and move out into the hallway, ready to head to bed.  Living a few doors down from my work has some benefits, such as being able to work until awful hours of the night because it will only take me a few minutes to get ready for bed, but it also has some drawbacks, such as being able to work until awful hours of the night because it will only take me a few minutes to get ready for bed.    My eyes are already beginning to close as I reach for the handle on my door, when I suddenly hear shuffling behind me.  I live alone on this floor, so I spin around rather quickly as my heart rate elevates.  “Hello?”  I shout, a little bit louder than I’d intended.  Sometimes the Hulk does get out a bit, even when I’m not green.    “Hello, I’m sorry, I’m just going to bed.”  A figure that resembles Natasha lurks in the shadows, but as it steps into the light, I can see that the person looks nothing like Natasha, except for the fact that they are both women.      “I’m Y/N.  I’m sorry to disturb you, I’m the new recruit and I’m staying on this floor for the night because I don’t know which room they’re going to put me in.”    “No trouble!  Sorry, I just get a bit jumpy at night.  I’m Bruce Banner, by the way.”  I reach out my hand to shake hers, and I see a moment of pause in her before she accepts.  As she steps forward to shake my hand, her face comes into the light, and I stare at her.  She is beautiful, not in a sexual way, but her face is so contented, so peaceful.  Like there’s never been any hurt in her world. Tony’s gonna eat her alive.  I feel an odd sensation through my body, and when we release our grip, I know that I really need to head to bed now, as I can barely keep my eyes open.  “I’d love to talk more, but I really do need to sleep.  Tomorrow perhaps, we can discuss what you’re doing here, and you can meet with the other members of our team.  Have a good night!”  I give a small wave, and she returns the favour.  “Goodnight Bruce,” she whispers.     Y/N’S POV

   I take small, hurried steps back to my room and latch the door behind me once inside.  Sliding down the wall to the floor, I begin to shake, my hands clutching at each other, trying and failing to find comfort.  What is happening to me?  I try to breath slowly, but I can feel the pain ripping at me.  I didn’t think it would be this bad or this sudden.  My skin feels like it’s stretched to the limit, like it’s about to rip open, but I can’t reach my needle to stop this.  I can see the stupid thing on my drawer, too far away to grab easily.  I begin crawling towards it, whimpering as my entire body convulses with this urge.  I’m going to lose control over it, I can feel it coming, I have to stop it, now.  I reach up, and grasp at the needle; it’s in my hands, at my neck,  somehow I manage to stab myself with it.  The relief is almost immediate.  I get up and lay down in the bed as my body begins to melt away into unconsciousness.  Mind-numbing, glorious unconsciousness.

[imagine-fairytail-dorks-blog]

if the boys saw you in a bikini/swimsuit:

Natsu:

Holy macarroni, is that ___?! I didn’t know she had such a nice figure under those clothes!

As soon as you step out clad in your bathing suit/bikini, his cheeks are turning pinkish but he will not falter, refusing to show his weaker side. He will try although very (in)discreetly touch you either with hugs or throwing into the water, or playing catch. Oh boy and if you play volleyball or some other sport that will cause your breasts to bounce? he’s a goner and he’s probably drooling at you from a distance.

     “ Gyahaha! i -i wasn’t looking at you or anything, i was just spotting a crab that was right beside you! “

    “ then, why weren’t you looking downwards?... “

  “ .....!!!! “

# rip Natsu.

Gray

Huh, is that ____? omg it is, .... why DID SHE CHOOSE SUCH A SWIMSUIT, OH MY GOD.

The ice mage would freeze in spot, once he saw your figure deliciously toned by the lining of your swimsuit .... and he would probably be already clotheless  -which was more the reason that you approached him already, tone apprehensive as you were ready to ssermon him but as soon as he saw you coming towards his direction, and his feet seemed rooted to the ground, his cheeks flushed with red, it suddenly seemed like a fire bursted within him as he took off running in the opposite direction before you could actually catch him, and his...rising boner.

   “ Huh, yeah, I gotta go, bye ______ !”

  “ Gray, wait..! “

Sting:

what is life even? I’ve been blessed by a goddess! thank you world.

This dragon slayer will probably be averting your gaze once you first find out that he’s been ogling you ever since you came into sight in your swimsuit, finding all those curves and the way the clothes were hugging them way too appetizing. Not to mention Rogue takes notice of this and purposedly teases him, even going to the length of pushing him towards you, and he does try to make some talk with you but it comes out as a lightly jumbled mess.

 “ hahaha! so, nice hot sunny day we’re having, right? though I know some other things which make it hotter even! “

 “.....? “

Sting please be quiet before you bury yourself. please stop, child.

Rogue

Is that.... ____? wait, no! Why did she have to come here?! and that choice of swimsuit?! Only I should be able to see her like that! i don’t want others to see her too ! 

Once he spots you sported in your bathing suit, he will be initally mesmerized and a small nosebleed making its way, but as quickly he will probably be sermoning you for yor choice of outfit, saying it’s distracting for his eyes. Rogue why you gotta be this way. But really he feels blessed that your choice leaves not much to his imagination as it defines your body well.

 “ ___! why did you choose such an  outfit?! “

“ Rogue, ...you didn’t expect me to actually come with a winter coat did you ? “

“........” 

# sassed out

Lyon:

Heavens...Is this a Goddess?! Is this an angel of seduction and purity in its all forms?! I do not deserve such sight, may my poor soul rest in pieces.

The moment you come clad up in your bathing outfit and he spots you in all of yourcurveous glory, he’s actually holding himself towards his guildmates because he might faint anytime soon - either due to the nerves or the blood loss on his nose. However if you try to approach him yourself, he will probably be all over you, idolatrizing you to the bewildermenet of other bystanders thus causing a light commotion as you become the center of attention (shamefully)

but please do give him a tissue.

    “  What have I done to be as lucky as to deserve your glorious presence, _____-san?! “

   “......Huh, thank you ? “ o.o’

[imaginesmylife]

if the boys saw you in a bikini/swimsuit

Natsu: Holy macarroni, is that ___?! I didn’t know she had such a nice figure under those clothes! As soon as you step out clad in your bathing suit/bikini, his cheeks are turning pinkish but he will not falter, refusing to show his weaker side. He will try although very (in)discreetly touch you either with hugs or throwing into the water, or playing catch. Oh boy and if you play volleyball or some other sport that will cause your breasts to bounce? he’s a goner and he’s probably drooling at you from a distance.

    “ Gyahaha! i -i wasn’t looking at you or anything, i was just spotting a crab that was right beside you! “

   “ then, why weren’t you looking downwards?… “

 “ …..!!!! “

# rip Natsu.

Gray Huh, is that ____? omg it is, …. why DID SHE CHOOSE SUCH A SWIMSUIT, OH MY GOD. The ice mage would freeze in spot, once he saw your figure deliciously toned by the lining of your swimsuit …. and he would probably be already clotheless  -which was more the reason that you approached him already, tone apprehensive as you were ready to ssermon him but as soon as he saw you coming towards his direction, and his feet seemed rooted to the ground, his cheeks flushed with red, it suddenly seemed like a fire bursted within him as he took off running in the opposite direction before you could actually catch him, and his…rising boner.   “ Huh, yeah, I gotta go, bye ______ !”

 “ Gray, wait..! “ Sting: what is life even? I’ve been blessed by a goddess! thank you world. This dragon slayer will probably be averting your gaze once you first find out that he’s been ogling you ever since you came into sight in your swimsuit, finding all those curves and the way the clothes were hugging them way too appetizing. Not to mention Rogue takes notice of this and purposedly teases him, even going to the length of pushing him towards you, and he does try to make some talk with you but it comes out as a lightly jumbled mess.

“ hahaha! so, nice hot sunny day we’re having, right? though I know some other things which make it hotter even! “

“…..? “

Sting please be quiet before you bury yourself. please stop, child.

Rogue Is that…. ____? wait, no! Why did she have to come here?! and that choice of swimsuit?! Only I should be able to see her like that! i don’t want others to see her too ! Once he spots you sported in your bathing suit, he will be initally mesmerized and a small nosebleed making its way, but as quickly he will probably be sermoning you for yor choice of outfit, saying it’s distracting for his eyes. Rogue why you gotta be this way. But really he feels blessed that your choice leaves not much to his imagination as it defines your body well.

“ ___! why did you choose such an  outfit?! “

“ Rogue, …you didn’t expect me to actually come with a winter coat did you ? “

“……..”

# sassed out

Lyon: Heavens…Is this a Goddess?! Is this an angel of seduction and purity in its all forms?! I do not deserve such sight, may my poor soul rest in pieces. The moment you come clad up in your bathing outfit and he spots you in all of yourcurveous glory, he’s actually holding himself towards his guildmates because he might faint anytime soon - either due to the nerves or the blood loss on his nose. However if you try to approach him yourself, he will probably be all over you, idolatrizing you to the bewildermenet of other bystanders thus causing a light commotion as you become the center of attention (shamefully)

but please do give him a tissue.    “  What have I done to be as lucky as to deserve your glorious presence, _____-san?! “

  “……Huh, thank you ? “ o.o’

Source:  imagine-fairytail-dorks

[idornaseminary]

Chapter One-Hundred Twenty-Three: Calix and Beatrice

“You’re so red!”

Ryker’s big grin beamed at Calix, the rapturous laughter of his younger brother muffled by the the mercurial two-way mirror that rested in Calix’s lap.

“Shut it,” Calix huffed, looking down at the fiery redness of his skin that glistened in the late evening sunshine and painfully contrasted the white printed shirt. His wand grazed the soft skin of his elbow, a cooling tendril of mist washing the rubor from the surface, the fair skin beneath tanned a rare gold. “You know I don’t take to the heat well.”

“Well?” Ryker scoffed, “You simply can’t handle the sun at all! You never could. I hope you enjoyed the trip more than your skin did.”

Calix smiled softly, looking over his shoulder towards the eclectic house, the inhabitants within saying their last goodbyes and dishing out their last hugs.

“Yeah, I had a great time, Ry,” Calix said, picking up the two-way mirror and showing his brother the cerulean-blue waters, lapping lazily at the rocks by his feet. “I mean, how could you not like this place?”

Ryker made some ridiculous passing comment on Calix’s Rudolph-like appearance when Calix lifted the mirror, the boy’s laughter drifting into nothingness as Calix thought back on his trip to Samoa, his attentive mind meandering.

Since his prickly conversation with Lanuola the day before, the witch had grown cagey in his presence. She still showed him kindness, especially when Beatrice was close by, but Calix knew she was trying to assess him, without making her interrogation more obvious than her blatant questioning had revealed. She, and Keise, wanted Beatrice to be happy and Calix, after a lot of thought, accepted that, even if he felt constantly pressed for information.

“Fucking hell, Cal,” Ryker gushed, but he quickly blanched as Cassandra’s sharp shriek of disapproval hissed from the other room. Ryker shouted out an apology, turning away from the mirror for a second.

“Has it been like that all the time?” he asked, as he turned back again.

“Pretty much. I’ve been surfing every day and relaxing every evening until the sun goes down,” Calix said, rotating the mirror, “It’s a magical place. That said, it’s no Ireland, but it’s a place you wouldn’t mind living in.”

“You’ve been surfing!”

Calix chuckled, nodding his head and pointing towards the canary-yellow surfboard embedded in the sand not far from the cluster of earthen-gold rocks where he sat.

He had not expected to enjoy the sport, Calix’s passions being academic and logical, and he was worried he would make a fool of himself. But, Mahana had insisted, practically threatened to drag Calix into the water, and Calix - initially scared of the colossal man - was glad he had. By the end of the few days, Calix was able to stand up on the board and enjoy the exhilarating, adrenaline-fuelled thrill of catching a good break.

Mahana had taught him well and Calix was going to truly miss the giant; he had gone above and beyond the call of a father’s duty to his daughter’s boyfriend. Perhaps he could see Lanuola’s pensiveness or Keise’s agitation, or maybe it was simply his nature, but he made Calix feel welcome.

“So, when are you coming home?”

“Jesus, Ryker,” Calix chuffed, answering the question for the millionth time, “Today! I’m literally just waiting on Beatrice and we’re going to apparate home.”

Twirling his thumbs, Ryker looked away from the mirror: “Sorry. I’m just excited to see you again.”

“I know,” Calix said, his heart plummeting to his feet as guilt dragged it downwards. “We’ll be there within the hour, okay?”

“Okay. Promise?”

“Cross my heart, buddy. And, Ryker?”

“Yeah?”

“When we arrive, please be cool.”

Beatrice sighed softly as she glanced around her bright yellow bedroom, double checking that she hadn’t left anything behind or brought anything extra that she didn’t need. Keise sat on her queen sized bed, her short tan legs hanging over the foot, swinging back and forth like twin pendulums. “So lemme just make sure I’m getting this right. Cedwyn’s gone for good, and you think Cal could be the one?” she asked bluntly, watching her sister babble senselessly to herself under her breath.

Letting out a soft sigh, Beatrice shrugged and pulled out her black fur cloak, draping it over her purse, having decided to leave her duffle at home with the onset of winter. “Well, I don’t know if he’s ‘The One,’ but I dunno, I do see a future with him,” she admitted, ducking into the shared bathroom between her and her sister’s rooms to grab the little clear plastic bag of toiletries.

“And you didn’t with Cedwyn?” Keise asked, braiding her thick mane of wild wavy hair back in a cattail plaid.

Beatrice huffed and set her hand on her torn skinny jean clad hip, tugging her black halter tank top down over her chunky leather belt. “Kiki, why do you hate Calix so much?”

“I don’t hate him.”

“But you don’t like him.”

“I don’t like the fact that he just wants to take you away,” she admitted flatly, casting her gaze down at her lap. A tense moment of silence passed between the two as the Welsh witch weighed the words carefully in her mind, a gentle smile curling onto her lips.

“Kiki, you know I’m always gonna come back, right?” she asked, sitting down beside her younger sister, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders which she was proud to see her sister didn’t immediately shake off.

Keise smiled sadly and leaned in, resting her head on Beatrice’s suede clad shoulder, careful to keep her hair away from falling and getting caught on the zipper jacket. “I mean, I hope you do, but you spend so much time away from here, I’m worried I’m gonna lose you. Cedwyn at least was prepared to buy a summer home down the road so you could visit. Calix...I’m just worried that he’s going to keep you away like your dad did,” she said, stroking the worn daisy sheets on her sister’s bed.

Beatrice sighed and stood up, pulling Keise with her, enveloping her in a tight hug which was eagerly returned with a few tears shed between the two women as the reality of another goodbye set in. “I will always come home to you.” A soft knock on the door hanging ajar brought their attention back to the present as Lanuola sauntered into the room with a sad smile on her plump pink lips, her hair draw up into a tight bun as she adjusted her labcoat over a professional grey silk dress.

“It’s time to get going, Teuila. Don’t want to keep Calix waiting too much longer or he might start to fry under the sun,” she teased, though the joy refused to reach her despair filled irises, her hands clasped neatly in front of her.

Beatrice nodded and picked up her purse and her cloak, the soft warm fabric feeling heavy and unnecessary in the aggressive humidity. She leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to Keise’s forehead, waving goodbye as the younger witch sank back down onto the bed as her mother and sister walked out of the house once again. Swallowing tightly, Beatrice hung onto her mother’s arm, needing the extra strength with each step she took away from her childhood home, heading out to the beach where Calix sat in wait.

Lanuola sighed softly and patted her daughter’s hand, tenderly peeling it off her elbow as they reached the Irishman, holding it out to him. “If you ever get tired of working for my ex-husband and want to expand your knowledge about tropical magical maladies and more herbal ways of healing, there’s a spot waiting for you at my hospital,” she said with a kind smile, taking a small step back which caused her to sink into the sand.

Hearing voices, Calix placed the two-way mirror in his pocket and swung his legs off the rock formation, landing on the soft sand, his white over-shirt transfiguring into a soot-black, woolen coat, the small birds on the fabric taking live flight behind him as they peeled off.

He winked at Beatrice, the spectacle for her amusement, and took her delicate hand in his. He looked towards her mother, small tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. This was as hard for her as leaving Ryker was for him: “Lanuola, someday I might take you up on that offer. Who knows, my area is magical bugs - the tropics always have interesting critters. And thank you so much for everything you did over the last few days. I had a wonderful time.”

“Thank you for taking such good care of my daughter,” she said, smiling fondly as Beatrice tugged her cloak on over her jacket in preparation for the icy temperatures that surely awaited them. “I’ll see you soon, darling,” she added, watching as the younger woman took his hand in preparation to disapperate.

“Bye, mom!” Beatrice called seconds before a loud crack filled the place where she once stood, the only imprint of their presence left a barely discernable divot in the soft white sand.

I’ll always take care of your daughter. Don’t think anything less than that.

The air crackled viciously as Calix disappeared, with Beatrice pulled tightly to his chest, and apparated on Appletower Row. The thin layer of Samoan warmth that came with them vanished into the dense, cold-morning fog, the ever-changing orange sky casting a glorious glow over the quiet row of houses, the imperturbable facades staring down at him again.

Home once more.

He rubbed Beatrice’s arm quickly, building up heat, and pecked her whitening cheek: “You okay, love? I know it’s a bit chilly.”

She giggled and nodded, releasing her white knuckle grip on his shirt, inhaling the clean, crisp air fiercely trying to cut through her cloak to no avail. “I’m alright, darling,” she said looking down the cobblestone road at the grand homes that towered over them like great stone guardians watching over their inhabitants. “Which one is yours?” she asked her hot breath clouding in the frosty atmosphere.

“I’m the one all the way near the bottom, sweetheart,” Calix explained, pointing excitedly down the cobblestone road towards the evergreens that hugged his home and poked above the thick fog.

“Come on, my brother is dying to meet you!” Calix chuckled, a light spring in his step as he walked, taking Beatrice’s bag from her. “And don’t mind anyone who stares. The Irish like to stare. Especially at Galens.”

“Why’s that, my love?” she asked with a grin, following him down the road at a brisk pace, keeping the fur lined cloth taut against her jacket, protecting the delicate suede beneath from the light flurries that swirled about the air.

The two young men Calix had met when he first arrived home came towards them as they walked, their impertinent eyes following Beatrice and Calix as they rushed by. Calix smiled and nodded but continued walking. He was in no mood to speak empty pleasantries with them.

“Appletower is full of old-world pure-bloods,” Calix explained quietly, looking over his shoulder as the men stared unapologetically at their newest piece of gossip, “And, unfortunately, brother doesn’t sit well with their mindset.”

He rushed to the iron gate of his house, the glacial bite of the north wind harsh against his face, and shuffled towards the door.

Before he could knock, the red door swung open and Ryker appeared in the doorway, wearing a Christmas jumper and a huge grin: “Cal!”

He threw himself ferociously at his brother, wrapping his arms around him and unintentionally tugging Beatrice into the welcoming embrace too.

“Heya, buddy!” Calix shouted, wrapping his free arm around his brother and pulling him close.

Beatrice let out a small yelp as she was thrown hastily in between the two wizards like the filling in an ice cream sandwich, equally as sweet and cold in the brisk winter air. She chuckled and opened her arms, wrapping one around Calix’s waist and the other around his brother’s, fully embracing the delightful moment. “Nice to meet you, Ryker!” she said, grinning up at the easily excited boy she was unexpectedly pressed against.

Ryker jumped back into the house as Calix lifted him easily off the ground, the younger boy’s sock-covered feet wet and cold from the damp path. Ryker smiled brightly at Calix before looking at Beatrice properly for the first time.

His mouth fell open.

His eyes widened.  

“Woah… Holy fu...”

“Ryker,” Calix snapped, a cautionary warning not worth ignoring seeping into his chattering voice, “This is Beatrice. Be cool.”

At first glance, she would have easily mistaken Ryker for a younger version of Calix with the same dark wavy hair and bright grey eyes. He, however, unlike his older brother seemed more lanky and had a gauntness about him that made her wonder what specifically it was that put everybody on Appletower Row off.

He seems nice enough. Why is it people are wary of him and the rest of Calix’s family?

Swallowing tightly and pushing the questions back into the dark depths of her mind, Beatrice put on a bright, cheerful smile as they stepped out of the blustery winter wind and into the warm house, closing the door on the harsh world outside. “I mean, you don’t have to be cool, but ya know, just...cool?” she said, laughing nervously. “It’s wonderful to finally put a face to the name after all this time.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too,” Ryker agreed quietly, offering to take Beatrice’s coat. As he helped Beatrice slip the black fur from her shoulders, Ryker looked to his brother and mouthed: ‘She’s fucking hot!’

Calix shook his head and gave him a warning glance. He’s right though. “Is Cass home?” He asked, pulling off his own coat and hanging it in the hall.

“Yeah,” Ryker beamed, “Cass! They’re here!”

Beatrice chuckled and walked into the homey living room, admiring the exposed wooden beams in the walls and the ceiling as she approached the roaring fireplace, wanting to get a better look at the row of enchanted black and white photographs on the mantelpiece. It was a arranged quite like a timeline it seemed, a visual reminder of happier days long past though space still remained at the very end for the wonderful moments sure to come.

Minding the wrought iron gate sat at the edge of the slate hearth, Beatrice took a step closer, and admired an image of a handsome man she presumed was in his early forties standing beside a large Hebridean Black dragon whose tail was wrapped protectively around the man’s feet though he appeared perfectly at ease beside the beast.

Perhaps this is his father. I wonder if I’ll get to meet him.

“Cass! Come on!”

“Ryker, calm down, I’m coming,” Cassandra laughed, fixing her dark, wavy hair into a tight bun as she stepped from the kitchen into the sitting room. She sighed happily when she saw Calix, standing by the sparkling and starry Christmas tree, the faint light highlighting his golden-red skin.

“Welcome home, Cal,” she said, turning towards the young witch by the fire, a genuine smile of delight on her face. “And, my dear, you must be Beatrice, am I right? Cassandra’s my name.”

She opened up her arms and beckoned her guest, her brother’s girlfriend, towards her wide embrace, the importance of the day not lost on her.

Turning her back on the row of framed pictures and focusing her attention on the entirely stunning woman before her, Beatrice offered a polite smile and stepped forward into the welcoming hug. She shoved the slightly awkward feelings given life by a flock of nervous butterflies as Cassandra stood a good foot taller than herself in flats, forcing the Samoan Welsh witch to rest her head on her hostess’ chest as they embraced.

“You have a lovely home. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this at ease anywhere before,” she said as they pulled apart, allowing her the chance to get a good look at the Greek goddess who stood before Beatrice claiming to be a relation to Calix. It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to see the family resemblance, in fact is was as plain as if it were carved into stone. “And thank you so much for hosting me. It’s a true joy to be here and meet all of you,” Beatrice added, glancing at the staircase behind the woman in the hall. “If you don’t mind my asking, will your parents be joining us later for dinner or are they away?”

“Just mom, she should be down soon. But, please, don’t be so formal, sweetie, any friend of Calix’s is welcome here anytime,” Cassandra winked, glancing towards the couch where Ryker had driven Calix backwards, the boys locked in a laughter-wracked wrestle, “And, between you and me, if you ever need help getting your way with him or sorting him out, just give me a shout. He can be a handful, but we’ll break that.”

Beatrice raised an eyebrow, her ruby red lips curling into a curious smirk as she followed the woman’s gaze over towards the two brothers play-fighting on the couch. She opened her mouth, ready to say, ‘I don’t think I really need help in that department, but I appreciate the offer,’ before she thought better of it. “Thanks, Cass. So, Cal’s told me that you work with dragons. What’s that gotta be like?” she asked, peeling off her suede jacket as she went to sit down on the green corduroy loveseat beneath the large bay window overlooking the backyard.

“It can be challenging from time to time. Never work with children and dragons, you know,” Cassandra said, pleasantly surprised and impressed with the young witch. On first impression, Cassandra thought her a pretty little soul. Her brother had picked well. “But, I love it. There’s something exhilarating about working with dragons, something so naturally primitive and feral. Though, they’re easier to work with than those two.”

Shaking her head, she barked at Ryker, his arm locked around Calix’s neck, and scolded Calix for encouraging his younger brother, the tumbling boys hurtling towards the floor.

“Sorry, would you look at them. Like toddlers.”

Beatrice couldn’t help but laugh at the siblings’ wild antics, suddenly struck by the thought that she wished her own family was a little more like that. She let out a happy sigh and crossed her legs, draping one smoothly over the other as she made herself at home on the couch. This was what a home was supposed to feel like. “I don’t mind. It’s fun to watch, and then they tire each other out,” she added with a sly wink at Calix.

“Tire each other out?” Calix winked playfully, ignoring Cassandra’s disapproval and ruffling his brother’s hair wildly, “Nah, I think we’ve got pretty good stamina, huh, Ry?”

The boys hollered with laughter, slowly trying to stand on their shaky feet as a weak voice called from the doorway.

“Cal? Is that you?”

Calix looked towards the door, the whisper sending heavy shudders down his spine, his ageing mother sliding into the room, black rings of worry beneath her eyes and a worrisome shake to her shoulders.

“Oh, my Calix, you’re home.”

Uncrossing her legs and sitting up straight, Beatrice swallowed tightly, very aware of her all too casual attire for meeting his parents for the first time. I mean, he did meet your mother in a pair of khaki shorts and a Tommy Bahama button up. She delicately placed her hands in her lap, the finer points of etiquette her paternal grandmother Eira drilled into her brain from the time she was able to sit still resurfacing at an alarming rate. Though the rapid pace her heart thundered away at could also have had something to do with the frail woman standing in the doorway of the living room dressed in a simple black cotton gown, reminding Beatrice all too much of a grim reaper.

“Hi, mom,” Calix said softly, taking her skeleton-gaunt hands in his and delicately kissing her papery cheek, the colour long replaced by perpetual pallor. “I want you…”

“Cal, who’s the woman in my house?”

Calix squeezed his mother’s hands gently, his contact setting her restless and panicky eyes, wandering around the room: “Mom, that’s Beatrice. Remember, I told you about her before I left? She’s my girlfriend. She’s going to be spending Christmas with us.”

“Bea... yes, yes, I remember,” Lorelei Galen whispered, a painful lilt to her feeble voice as she reached for Cassandra’s hand, “I remember, I remember. But, I think I’ll go lie down, Cal. I don’t think I look my best for introductions. Your sister and I missed you so much.”

A sickening knot formed in Calix’s stomach as Ryker’s presence was ignored once again. He watched as his mother, guided by Cassandra, shuffled out of the room, repeatedly asking her daughter who the strange young woman in her house was.  

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The Curious Case of De Nga

The Curious Case of De Nga

View from the ridge above Longdo Nye (Panch Pokhri) lakes

Explorations on the watershed between Lachen chu and Ringi chu, North Sikkim

Text: Anindya Mukherjee Photos: Aloke Kumar Das

It was the third week of November,2015 and Kolkata was showing no signs of cooling down. Autumn was clearly gone and winter was still hesitating to enter into our space. Being gangetic, we understand this. Winter and Bay of Bengal are eternally engaged in a ‘cold’ war. Just like us Bengalis, they do not agree with each other- ever. But I could see and sense from experience that the weather pattern in the eastern part of the Himalaya was moving towards a clearer, stable state. News of new snow on the ridges of Singalila was bringing promises. I was getting restless. Long time, no mountain! And suddenly a plan was in the air.  

As soon as the plan did surface, I met Aloke Das, my companion on Nanda Devi East  in 2013[1]. I knew, Aloke, a senior mountaineer of Bengal belonged to a very different school and was new to this style I was about to propose. Preposterous, exploratory climbing is not blitzkrieg! Perhaps that will be his remark, I thought, but secretly hoped that he would be game. I said, 8 days and that is all we got in order to crack this thing and come back. We shall have to force our way through dense forest and rhododendron thickets right from the river bed, climb steep slopes covering nearly 1000m a day while sleeping under overhang rocks. There will be fewer leeches at this time of the year but be sure to expect plenty of deer ticks. But the good thing is the threat of ticks will be for the first 2 days only and then on the 3rd day we should be able go above the tree line and get near this 5000m mountain. And finally, if we do get there and if the weather gods are kind, we will try and climb this thing. I paused and looked at him. My old pal was smiling and I knew what that meant. Reassured, I resumed.

We shall have only one day at our disposal to climb. No rest days, no bad weather allowances. Since we will be starting our hike from a very low altitude of 700m approximately we should not worry too much about acclimatization I guess. But since time is of the essence and the approach march cannot be shortened really; we get only one shot at it. By the way, did I mention that I do not know what this mountain looks like? To be a little more specific I do not even know if this is a peak or a pass? Aloke seemed lost now. Lost but not surprised. There is not a single report or images published in any journal as presumably no mountaineer or trekker has been here. But in Kekoo Naoroji’s book ‘Himalayan Vignettes’ I saw a map[2]that referred to it as De Nga (5060m). ‘De Nga’ is definitely a Bhotia sounding name and must have had its influence from the inhabitants of Lachen valley lying to its immediate east rather than the Lepcha sanctuary of Dzongu that stretches to its south. In this map, it is shown on the watershed of Ringi Chu in Upper Dzongu and Lachen Chu. If you know where Lama Anden is then perhaps it will be a bit easier to imagine. It is on the ridge serpenting down south from Lama Anden (5868m).

Map with 'De Nga' peak marked

Toyoshima’s map shows this ridge in detail, but no peak named as ‘De Nga’ is marked here. What it shows instead in the same position are two passes with identical names-Thepa la. The northerly one is of 4575m and the other of 5064m[3]. Interestingly enough, this higher Thepa la is approximately in the same position and altitude as De Nga in Kekoo’s book. So, in short, the objective of this trip will be to locate De Nga and Thepa la and end this confusion of entity and title between peaks and passes. Pack your ice climbing gears nevertheless as we honestly do not know what to expect- a scramble or a climb. The meeting was over. I realized both of our smiles were turning into grins now. The glorious uncertainties of exploratory climbing in Sikkim have always been the ultimate lodestone for me. Now my old friend is about to get a taste of it. The spirit is contagious. If the medium is right it can pervade and permeate without much effort.  

Map with Thepa La (two of them) marked

The very next week after this meeting took place, a drive of around 5 hours brought us to Passingdong, a tiny village in the lower reaches of Talung chu valley. Parties that trek to Kishong lake via Tholung gompa has to drive past this village and proceed a bit further to the west till the unpaved road ends at Be. From Be, they more or less have to hike up north following the Ringi chu keeping the Lama Anden- De Nga ridge to their east. Coming back to our trip, while driving up from Siliguri; we had a short stop at Mangan and bought food and fuel for the trip from the local market. Neither the overnight sleeper train from Kolkata, nor the drive from Siliguri was bad. It took fewer hours on the bumpy road than we had imagined. At this time of the year the roads of Sikkim had less traffic as Durga Puja and Diwali vacations were over and the towns were quieter again till Christmas. No sooner than we had lugged our bags down from the car my friend Mingdup Lepcha appeared and lent us a helping hand to carry them into his house. Mingdup has been a close friend since we had forced our way up the Talung gorge back in 2011[4]. That evening we poured over copies of maps and its contours. I tried to explain to Mingdup the curious case of De Nga and Thepa la. It turned out that Mingdup had never heard of De Nga, but the name Thepa la rang a bell. Soon after close inspection of his description we understood that Mingdup had crossed the northerly Thepa la (4575m) before. But never went up its higher namesake.

Mingdup also mentioned that further down south on the ridge there are several lakes. Lepchas call them ‘Longdho Nye’, which means ‘pond upon a rock’. This reminded me that Lepchas call themselves ‘Mutanchi Rong Kup Rum Kup’, meaning ‘beloved children of mother nature and God’ and they are the original indigenous race of the region. Lepchas have language, literature and script of their own. In fact, before the Tibetan rule in Sikkim and British rule in Darjeeling, the language of the whole region was the Lepcha. Even during the early period of the British rule all administrative works of the acquired land were carried out in Lepcha[5]. There is also another name for the lakes in Nepalese however these days and that is ‘Panch Pokhri’. There is a faint trail up to Panch Pokhri. This was good news as this meant we do not have to hack our way up all the way from Passingdong. 

At the end of the discussion, with a deep and mysterious voice, Mingdup said to me, I knew you were up to something strange again. We all laughed. Mingdup’s remark however reminded me of Hercule Poirot’s statement in his last case Curtain. ‘Where you see a vulture hovering there will be a carcass. If you see beaters walking up a moor, there will be a shoot. If you see a man stop suddenly, tear off his coat and plunge into the sea, it means that there, there will be a rescue from drowning...and finally if you smell a succulent smell and observe several people walking along a corridor in the same direction you may safely assume that a meal was about to be served’.  And soon we were all walking along the wooden stairs of Mingdup’s house down to the kitchen ourselves. A delicious meal was on the table. I felt thankful for all the wonderful friends these mountains have given me. The blessing of friendship is all I have.

Next morning Mingdup bid us good bye and wished us luck. He could not join us as a close relative’s wedding was up around the corner of his calendar. We wished him a grand time and healthy ‘chhang’ drinking advices were exchanged. We crossed Talung chu and the started hiking up. After an hour we passed a deserted looking small village called ‘Leekh’. Another couple of hours of steady uphill hike brought us in the realm of Sikkim’s dense forests. The foliage and flora resembled strikingly with central African rain forests. We toiled up for another couple of hours and as soon as we found a little clearing and narrow stream nearby, we decided to camp. Across the valley we saw the village of Lingthem. Interestingly, this was the same village where Geoffrey Gorer had spent three months in 1937. Gorer’s observations and comments are an invaluable contribution to our knowledge of the Lepcha community even today[6]. 

At night Mangan’s lights flickered in a distance below and across the Teesta. Next morning we were up early and after a quick breakfast we were back on the forest trail. In places it became hard to find our way as the undergrowth had everything covered. Not a lot of trekkers hike up to Panch Pokhri, we thought. After a gruesome 6 hours climb we reached the top of a ridge. Crossing the ridge we traversed up north for another hour and then next to a beautiful waterfall and below an overhanging rock we made our second night’s shelter. Firewood was collected, water from the stream was as clear as it could be; and soon we had a fire going. A quick meal followed a few rounds of tea and soon we all found our private sleeping spaces below the rock and prepared for the long night ahead.

Morning of Day 3 began to show a lot of cirrus cloud accumulation high up in the sky across to the west. Climbing through the scree of a dry stream we could see the NE flanks of Pandim (6691m) and its ridge extending towards Tinchinkhang (6010m), Jopuno (5936m) and Narsing (5825m) in the distance.  At the end of the scree we reached the top of a sharp ridge. We figured, in Toyoshima’s map this point is marked as an unnamed pass of 3700m. We realized then that we were now on the ridge itself. On the same ridge further up north lies the higher Thepa la. We tried to see if we could spot a pass or saddle like feature from where we were standing. But our view was guarded by 3 rocky peaks. Further consultation of the maps revealed the these three peaks were respectively 4334m, 4593m and 4292m. They were obstructing the higher Thepa la (5064m) from us. To our immediate east was the deep valley of Rahi Chu. Looking alarmingly at the steady progression of the cirrus gathering we kept climbing north. Another good three hours of steep climb brought us higher up on the same but closer to the Panch Pokhri and we decided to pitch our tents. We were now just above 4000m. The evening transformed into a magical scene as the clouds decided to settle down in a low level stratus formation down the valley. The full moon appeared from somewhere over and above the mountain ranges of Tangkar la (4895m) and Dopendikang (5359m) to the east and south east. We knew just beyond that ridge was Chumbi valley. To our west were of course the great Kangchenjunga with all its majestic neighbour peaks. All the peaks in the map appeared before us. The peaks of the Singalila ridge starting from Talung (7349m) to the Kabrus (7338m and 7317m) lay to the furthest horizon. Proximal to that, were the peaks from Pandim (6691m) to Narsing (5825m). Then came the great east ridge of Kangchenjunga itself. We could make out distinctly the Zemu peak (7730m), the Simvu twins (6811m and 6812m), Siniolchu (6887m) and its Rock Needles (5712m). To add a sort of sense of completion to this map reading delight, the twin summits of Lama Anden (5868m) appeared further up north. We realized what a grand panoramic view point this was.

Next morning was a total anti climax to this. It seemed the valley clouds had an overnight change of mind and now they were determined to make life a little less rosy for us. It started snowing and within a couple of hours it was 4 inches deep. We knew we were pressed for time. We pushed further up north, along the ridge and as we got near peak 4334m, we dropped down to the east from the ridge and moving a bit further up north we decided to camp. We understood we were probably located a bit south of peak 4593m and hoped that this weather would change the next morning and if that happens we would climb peak 4593 and have a look at the higher Thepa la and the confusion of De Nga once and for all. The scheme seemed fine but the weather gods decidedly had other plans for us. It started snowing heavier that evening and continued all night. Morning brought no promises but 6 more inches of soft new powder. The intensity of snowfall lessened, but by then we knew that we were out of time. We packed our bags and wet tents and with a shrug of our shoulders headed back down. The curious case of De Nga remained unsolved. Well, until next time[7].

Observation: Approaching the problem of De Nga or Thepa La would be much easier from Lachen as the slopes are of easier gradient and almost devoid of the dense forest cover that one encounters while approaching from Dzongu. We also learnt ( and saw evidences) that the residents of Lachen do come in the vicinity of ‘Longdho Nye’ (Panch Pokhri) and the upper reaches of the Rahi Chu valley to gather Yarsa Gomba[8], not to mention the occasional poaching trips for Musk Deers and Himalayan Tahrs. This proved our presumption on the ease of access to this ridge from Lachen but increased our concern for the well being of the nature and wildlife nevertheless. We sincerely hope that the authorities of Kangchenjunga Biosphere Reserve will be a bit stricter in their regulations in near future as this area now falls under ‘Tholung-Kishong Conservation Zone’ as per a notification in the Sikkim Government Gazette Extraordinary dated 15 December 2006.

Postscript: Aloke seemed happy and satisfied with what we achieved as well. Well I will never know that for sure of course. As may be, deep down in his heart he is still screaming, didn’t I tell you so? Exploration climbing is not blitzkrieg after all!

[1] HJ 69 p.212

[2]See map 1, source: ‘Himalayan Vignettes- Kekoo Naoroji’, Page 232

[3]See map 2, source: ‘Sikkim Himalaya’ by Tadashi Toyoshima, 1977

[4] HJ 67, page 30

[5]‘Lepchas: Past and Present’- Dr. D.C.Roy, page viii

[6]‘Himalayan Village- An account of the Lepchas in Sikkim’-Geoffrey Gorer, First published 1938

[7]See map 3 for route described in this report

[8] Caterpillar Fungus, Ophiocordyceps sinensis, Chinese name: Dōng chóng xià cǎo, meaning ‘winter worm, summer grass’