#morning sun subdivision

[realtyhubph-blog]

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[sailtomarina]

Dog walk

In any other scenario, Hermione would consider today the perfect fall day. The grass still retained dew from the past several days of rain. She breathed in air that was crisp in the sun’s light. Fresh fallen leaves crunched underfoot. She loved autumn. She loved walks, when she could be bothered to shrug off her blankets and books to take them. The season reminded her of carving pumpkins, apple cider, and bundling up next to a bonfire.

Today would be perfect, if not for Aspen.

Aspen was Harry’s dog, or, more precisely, Albus’ dog. As is the case with most children and pets, the responsibilities ended up falling on the parents, Albus only claiming the dog when convenient, which was never at the same time as walks or meals.

She cursed the Potters under her breath as she struggled with the leash and the 6-stone dog threatening to yank her off balance.

“I’m so sorry, please, just keep walking,” she gritted out with a pained smile, the couple walking by with their twin Staffordshire terriers looking at the pair of them like they were both hell dogs out to drag them to their deaths.

Aspen was inconsolable at not being allowed to run straight up to the other party as they scurried by. “Leash reactivity,” Harry had called it.

What a fat load of bollocks.

Oh, she believed there was a term for the way their super mutt rescue went completely ballistic every time he was on the leash and saw another dog, but it had been years now since they’d adopted him. Surely, by now, they should have trained the behavior out of him?

Now here she was, barmy to have accepted not only house sitting for her best mate and his family while they were on vacation, but dog sitting with all the activities it entailed.

Like walking. Three. Times. A day.

“Aspen, come! Aspen, look!” Her commands went straight over the fuzzy black head without eliciting any response. He continued to tug forward without looking to her for approval or permission.

This is why she preferred cats. Even owls, with their razor-sharp talons and grouchy nips were better. At least they delivered mail.

Giving up, she allowed herself to be pulled along their usual route along the gravel path around the pond. They took this walk every morning, then in the afternoon they went the opposite direction through the little Muggle subdivision of homes. One final evening walk to work off dinner cut partially through the same neighborhood into a cleared  path through the nearby forest.

She didn’t begrudge the multiple walks—they afforded her regular exercise and well-needed breaks from the tasks into which she often lost herself.

It was encounters with others that made her drag her feet in putting on the leash and harness.

Aspen would be a lovely companion if not for his loss of self at the sight of another dog, delivery truck, bicycle, and scooter. He draped himself over her every morning and she cuddled him for the next half hour as she slowly woke up. He kept her feet warm wherever she perched, book or pen in hand. He eagerly followed her to sleep at night, curling up at the foot of the bed with his head towards the door to guard their dreams.

“Oh! Finally.” She perked up as the dog curled into a familiar position.

It was as she settled down into a crouch, hand reaching out with a bright blue bag towards a steaming pile of shit that Malfoy found her.

“Hey, Aspen, and—Granger?”

Her stomach dropped at the voice she’d recognize anywhere. She might as well continue what she started. Without looking up, she proceeded to bag the poop and tie it off before standing to face the man jogging in place next to Aspen.

“Hello, Malfoy.”

She bobbed her head politely, hoping the stench from her hand didn’t reach him. If this area wasn’t Muggle she could vanish the bag. He didn’t give any indication of discomfort. In fact, he looked good.

Despite the cool weather, he wore a simple black vest and matching joggers, the prominent muscles of his arms revealed for all to see. He looked every inch the Auror that he was, one who rivaled Harry as his partner and featured far too often in Hermione’s fantasies.

He brushed back a fallen strand of hair, returning his platinum locks to their usual perfection. How could a man out for a run look so put together? Hermione wasn’t a slouch, even jogging on her own a few times a week, but her hair had a tendency to explode outward as if the steam from her head filled it to bursting with nowhere else to escape.

“Why are you walking Aspen?”

He didn’t say it with any disdain, but Hermione couldn’t help but bristle.

“Why can’t I walk him?”

He raised a slender brow and finally stilled his movements, hands moving up to rest on his hips. Her traitorous companion immediately butted up against his legs begging for attention, which, of course, was given.

Bent over, fingers digging into Aspen’s soft fur, Malfoy looked up with his mercurial eyes, famous smirk in place. “Of course you can; I asked why you were doing so. Where’s Potter?”

Hermione wanted to kick herself in her annoyance. Why was she being so prickly towards Malfoy? It wasn’t like she still harbored resentment towards him—it had been nearly a decade since Hogwarts and they’d bumped into each other often enough over the years. She could be civil.

She blamed Aspen and his reactivity.

“They’re on a family vacation and I agreed to house sit.” She bit her tongue before she could say anything more.

Malfoy had given into temptation and dropped down to spoil the mutt with both hands ruffling his ears and massaging his sides. That lucky fucker.

With a gasp, she realized she was jealous of Harry’s dog. 

The wizard looked at her once more at the sound, never ceasing his ministrations. “Everything alright?”

“Yes,” she cleared her throat, “I just realized I might have left the stove on. We should get going.”

His lips twitched almost like he was holding back a smile, like he knew she was lying. 

Was tonight a full moon? Is that why she was feeling so affected by the sight of his wide mouth, his full lashes rimming the prettiest grey eyes she’d ever seen that seemed to change with his emotions, and his visibly veined arms wrapping around Aspen? He could probably pick up the behemoth of a dog without breaking a sweat.

She blinked with surprise when he smoothly stood and approached her with a palm outstretched. Looking down at the hand, then back at him, she could do nothing but gape in confusion.

He snorted, thrusting his hand out even closer to her direction. “I’m not going to hex you, Granger. It’d be rude of me to not offer my farewell.”

“Yes, but must we shake on it?” she blurted out, still nonplussed.

A wrinkle formed between his eyes, and she realized she was being horribly rude. They might not be friends and she might harbor fantasies of riding him like a bull until she collapsed on top of him boneless and breathless, but it wouldn't do to ignore a friendly handshake.

The instant her hand slid into his and his eyes flashed silver, she remembered just who it was she was talking to. Smug satisfaction flickered across his face, and, with a wrenching twist to her gut, they disapparated.

Leaves fluttered into the air at the precise spot they’d left. A squirrel scampered across, nuts pocketed in cheeks meant for winter storage.

They reappeared at Harry’s front door, Hermione stumbling forward straight into Malfoy’s sturdy frame.

“What the bloody hell, Malfoy?” She smacked him with the end of the leash in rhythm to her yells. “You can’t just apparate people without notice!” He’d side-apparated not only her, but also Aspen, and the magical finesse behind such a feat turned her on even as it infuriated her. “You could have splinched us! Killed Aspen! What would I even say to Harry? Albus would be devastated—”

To her complete and utter shock, he shut her up with a kiss.

She stiffened for a couple of seconds, poop bag dropping forgotten onto the door mat behind her along with all pretenses of a stove left on, but as the realization hit her that this was not a dream and that none of them had lost limbs in their teleportation, she let herself feel.

His warm, very large arms wrapping around her to pull her flush against him.

His head tilting, lips slanting to meld against her own.

His tongue swiping at the seam then dipping in to taste her.

The scent of him, woodsy and spicy and rich, and she knew it to likely be from some stupidly expensive cologne in some foreign language and nearly impossible to find.

Aspen leaning against their legs, for once not being a brat and shoving them apart the way he did to Harry and Ginny.

By the time he pulled away, Hermione was breathless and even more befuddled than before he’d appeared in front of her and interrupted her walk.

“What—”

He dropped another kiss, this one chaste and sweet.

Words left her, and she simply stared up at him in wonder. This had to be a dream. Or perhaps a nightmare? Maybe she’d wake up in bed, smothered underneath dog hair, painfully alone again since her last relationship several months back.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he said with a grin, leaning his forehead against her own.

“Stealth apparate a witch?” she asked, thoughts still moving sluggishly, her heart beating slow and loud in her ears.

“Shut you up with a snog.” His smile was so wide, it threatened to reach his ears.

“Since when?”

His smile dropped as he stared at her silently. She tried to pull away, but his arms tightened around her, keeping her in place.

“For longer than appropriate.”

Her eyes widened at the revelation. She had only been around him because of Harry—the two work partners had become friends enough to go out regularly for drinks. She’d been invited to many of them, her interactions with Malfoy short but always memorable. They usually argued, but occasionally they talked. Not the sort of meaningless chatter she loathed, like scrambling for Quidditch news or the weather. Heavy topics, like modern applications of runes. Variations on magical bonds. Merits of the Statute of Secrecy.

She’d always known he was smart, even since their school days, but these moments where she could stretch her mental muscles and find herself well and truly challenged by Malfoy’s views were liberating.

So, she fantasized.

Now, he revealed he’d wanted to kiss her for quite some time.

“Do you always jog around the pond in the morning? Why haven’t I seen you before?” She’d been here for the past five days and this was their first encounter. They were also nowhere near his ancestral home in Wiltshire. His being here today couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I might have been the one to show this neighborhood to Potter. My flat is nearby.”

Aspen had finally gotten bored and was now winding around their legs, the leash ribboning around them.

“And the timing?” she prompted.

For the first time, a faint pink blush tinged his cheeks.

He looked adorable.

“I did see you. You’re just usually so distracted that you don’t notice when I run by.”

Oh.

This time, it was her turn to blush. She didn’t doubt him. She had a habit of daydreaming, even when out for a walk. The solitude of nature and her presence in it induced her to disappear into her thoughts.

“Well,” she gathered up her courage to put her hope into words, “you are welcome to join me on my walks whenever you see me. If it doesn’t cut into your exercise, that is.”

His smirk was back, and she couldn’t help but breathe in deep to savor the delicious scent of him. It might be a new favorite for autumn.

“How much longer are you house sitting?”

“A little over a week.”

“Consider us a dog walking team until then.” With a snap of his fingers, arms still hugging her close, the leash was unwound and hanging loose down to where Aspen had stretched out on the ground.

She searched his eyes, for what, she wasn’t sure. Truth? Determination?

One hand came up to cup her cheek, his skin almost scalding against the coolness of her own, his thumb ghosting down to trace her lips.

She parted them just slightly to whisper, “And after?”

He twisted his hand to brush knuckles up her jaw, then push wayward curls over her shoulder. The simple touch shouldn’t have felt as sensual as it did, but the motion betrayed a desire for familiarity born from years spent together. A touch that meant more than just friendship, more than a fling.

“We can still go on walks without Aspen.”

The innocence of his suggestion encouraged one snort, then another, and before long, they giggled together at the idea.

Dog walks, but without the dog.

WC 2212

Cross posted on Tumblr  and AO3

Aspen is modeled after my own dog of a different name, including the physical description. 6 stone roughly approximates to my own dog's 85 pounds. The pond is also pulled from my own neighborhood where I frequently walk him. Yes, he has leash reactivity. No, I haven't been able to fix it ;_;

This was meant to be a short with my own self-prompt that I thought of on my walk this morning, but now I can't stop thinking about this setting and these characters.

Fall is undeniably the best season.

[clumsiestgiantess]

Chapter 15 of the Other-world Universe; uhhh.. where’s Erica? Wasn’t she just here a chapter ago?

all chapters linked here

[Throw Caution to the Wind]

That night I slept so soundly I didn’t hear the quiet scuffle of figures on the cliffside, nor did I notice the sun rising over the ruined city.  I even slept through the early morning bird calls that broke up the otherwise silent terrain.  When I finally woke from my well rested sleep, the sun hung far higher in the sky than I expected.  “Oh!  I woke up late!  Erica, why didn’t you wake me?”  I turned to the cliffside and stopped short.  Her sleeping bag was empty, thrown haphazardly to the side.  Ok, don’t panic.  She probably couldn’t wake you and left to go do something…  Though there is a perfectly good way to wake me, I realized, eyeing the metal scraps that Erica used to get me up.  In fact, one of the pieces had been dragged off a ways, like someone tried to pick it up but dropped it.

“Erica!” I called, “Where are you?”  I waited anxiously as the noises of late morning dwindled into unsettling silence.  After a few minutes, I began scouring the cliffside for any signs of where Erica could've gone.  Though my search came up empty-handed, and it became even more obvious that she wasn't there, I refused to believe she'd left.  Unless Erica was taken.  I felt guilty at the mere thought of her being kidnaped by looters like the ones in the city.  Or worse, those scientists from the future.  I was supposed to be keeping her safe, after all.  Had I already failed to do that?

Eventually, thankfully, my strange internal compass steered me in a direction beyond the cliff.  It was the same feeling I'd had in the city shortly before finding Erica.  She’s.. Why is she getting further away from me?  Why is she so far away?!

I took off at a run, hoping that I wasn't too late to find her safe.  With the world in such a catastrophic state, I was never really sure what might happen.  As I jogged to some unknown destination, I noticed I'd been inadvertently following a set of small tire tracks; they were still slightly fresh.  Her captors can't be too far off.  If they really were driving this small car, I can catch up to them in no time at my size.  Thank god they aren’t from the portals.  I picked up speed, passing the end of the subdivisions.  Wide patches of grass and rock spread out beyond them.  Though I’d been jogging for a while, I wouldn’t give up my quick pace even as my side began to burn.  Erica was out there, ahead of me somewhere.  I had to hurry.

Please, please let her be alright!  She just confessed how she wanted me there to protect her!  Why is she gone the very next day?  Who would take her?  Who would dare take her?  Anger forced me to go faster, and I broke out into a run.  I’m such an awful friend!  How could I have let this happen?  She’s going to lose trust in me again!  That can’t happen; it can’t!  What if I lose her?  “ERICA!” I yelled as loudly as I could, despair quickly engulfing my thoughts and my voice.  “I’M COMING!  Just wait for me!”  

Another mountain range, taller and more diverse than the one by the city, soon appeared before me.  I slowed at its edge.  My sixth sense had pointed here.  Scouring the large rock faces, I soon came upon an interesting wooden structure hidden in the foothills of a mountain.  

The structure didn’t seem very polished, yet it looked recently built.  Haphazard boards of wood stuck out in odd places, most likely scavenged from other wrecked buildings.  I touched the structure’s side with one of my fingers, studying it curiously.  Before I could investigate further, someone inside stuffed a shotgun through a hole in the wall and opened fire.  I stumbled backwards in shock.  Had I known there were people inside, I wouldn’t have hovered so close.  Quickly, I ran on, dodging into a ravine between two mountains to gain some cover.  However, I realized shortly afterwards that this was a very bad decision.  There were more wooden structures there, all of which began shooting at me.  Sure, the bullets wouldn't kill me, but they still hurt like hell.  

I was forced to turn around when even more buildings appeared further down the ravine, barraging me from every side — so much so that I feared I might get lead poisoning.  However, as I began to retreat back out of it, my unnatural sense went haywire.  Apparently, I needed to go down there.  Sucking in a shaky breath of air, I took a moment to find some confidence before charging through the mountains.  I got much further than I thought.  With every bound my sense became stronger until I was certain Erica was being held down the ravine somewhere, just beyond my reach.  

As the wooden structures dispersed, I tripped over some tripwire trap of sorts and became ensnared in a large chunk of netting.  The coarse fibers dug painfully into my skin, cutting it in some places.  By then, I was pissed off and fed up.  Everything hurt and I was in no mood to be dragged to the ground by some flimsy trap.  You're gonna regret stealing Erica from me, just you watch.  Do you really think THIS can hold me!?  I glowered as people slid out from crevasses in the mountainside to watch my fighting struggles.  All I could think of was how scared Erica seemed when I'd left her the day before.  That was only for a moment.  Imagine her now.. taken, again.

Adrenaline pumping furiously through my veins, I tore right through the netting and furiously kicked the sides of the mountain where I saw people emerge a moment ago.  The wooden structures opened fire again, but I angrily tore them down with a swipe of my arm.  "WHERE IS SHE!?" I roared, furiously battering the mountainside.  I'd grabbed a large metal beam from one of the bigger structures; it was probably a support of some kind, but it made an excellent crowbar.  I tore into the rocky slope where my sixth sense was the strongest.  Having found a tunnel leading deeper inside, I pressed down harder on the beam and gouged out chunks of rock from the opening.  

Leaning heavily against the sheer face, I wedged my makeshift weapon into the small tunnel and pushed.  At last, the mountainside gave way.  As the rubble and dust settled, a camp, no, a town took shape inside a now open chasem.  Before I could wreak my vengeance on that as well, I heard a shout from somewhere inside.  "WAIT!  STOP!  CALM DOWN; I'M FINE, I'M RIGHT HERE!"  Through the heavy dusting of rock that still wafted in the air, I spotted Erica herself racing through the town to the chasm opening, clambering desperately over rubble.

Relief flooded through me, and my adrenaline rush faded away, leaving me suddenly exhausted.  I dropped the metal beam and reached into the mountain without a second thought.  Quickly, I scooped Erica up, her little body flinching harshly against my palm.  Turning to leave, I readied a kick that would send the open chasem collapsing in on itself — a nice example of my power to show anyone else stupid enough to steal Erica away.  Just as I was about to demolish the place, Erica must have realized what I intended to do.  

"NO!  DON'T!"  I froze, foot half raised, and stepped back.  With shaking hands I brought her up to my face so I could more clearly see her.  “These people,” she explained, panting as she caught her breath, “They’re survivors of the wreckage out there.  They only took me because some of their scouts saw us fighting.  They thought you captured me.”

I shook my head, confused, “But I didn’t capture you.”  Erica nodded, “They didn’t know that, though,” she said, pointing to the chasm I created.  “Late last night a few scouts showed up to sneak me away.  I- I thought they were going to hurt me, so I ran to the alarm system to wake you, but a few of them stopped me.  There, like, leader explained who they were and where they came from.  What she described — it sounded like a safehaven.  But I.. couldn’t bring you with me.”  She turned her head down, avoiding my gaze for a moment.  “I swear I was coming right back!  I just wanted to go see it — to know if it was even true.  I promised myself that I would be back before you even woke up!  It was a lot further away than I thought and.. I guess I kinda lost track of time…  You can’t really tell what time of day it is when you’re under a mountain.”

I glanced guilty at the gaping hole in the mountainside.  “There’s a whole town down there, hidden from all the giants.”  “…And I just revealed it,” I finished numbly.  Erica shifted in my hand to look at the damage I’d done — more destruction I’d caused.  “Yeah..  Alexis, I appreciate what you were trying to do, but you can’t just go around destroying everything whenever something happens to me.  It’s great that you care so much about me, but… you need to chill.”

“Ok, alright, I just-  You were gone when I woke up, and then I panicked because I really have no idea what might happen to you.  You know, with the state of your world and all?”  She nodded slowly and I realized my explanation didn't really justify the amount of damage I did.  I didn’t even want to think of the people I potentially killed. “I should probably clear things up with the refugees down there,” Erica noted, glancing meaningfully up at me.  Stepping back to the opened mountain, I placed Erica back into the town in a daze.

"Ok, I'll.. I'll just leave."  "Mmhm," Erica mumbled absentmindedly once she returned to the ground.  Already, she was focused on negotiating what to do about the terrifying destruction I'd created — reassuring everyone that I was not going to capture them.  I watched with an awful sting in my chest as the people there rushed over to her, trying to pull her safely away from me, deeper into the mountains.

She’s with her own people now, I realized, she’ll probably be happier with them.  And, I noted with a hint of jealousy, she won’t need me for protection anymore.  "Goodbye, then," I added awkwardly.  Erica barely seemed to notice me backing away as I walked solemnly down the crevasse.  Surely she was just too preoccupied to answer, right?  Was she relieved to trade my company for her own kind?  Even from my height, it was clear that these people were much more caring and welcoming to Erica than I'd first been to her.  The first 'help' I gave her turned out to be literal torture.

My pace slowed to a halt at the opening of the valley.  I felt as though I were sinking through muck, unable to move.  The oppressive force of realization weighed me down further.  She doesn’t need me…  but I can’t be so selfish as to try and get her to stay.  Erica once said she felt stuck with me, trapped even.  Here’s her chance at independence; why would I stop her from taking it?  Because I want her to stay with me, to choose me over her own people?  Of course not.  

Hours later, the sun had drifted from one side of the horizon to the other and Erica hadn’t returned yet.  I’d checked on the town twice since I left her there that morning.  The first time, I began getting gunned down again, and the second time I was told with growing annoyance that Erica would come for me when she was good and ready.  If she wanted to see me at all, that is.

I glanced back at the empty mountainsides and the wooden structures that were still standing guard at the entrance, then turned and headed to the ruined mansion.  I would collect my things and go home.  Maybe I could try to explain to my family why I'd taken fifty things from the kitchen.  Ok, more like fifteen things, but still.  I would come back in a day or two to check on Erica after I fixed up the stinging holes in my skin, and ate a couple meals worth of food.

Hey, this is a good thing, I tried to assure myself, Erica is safe; you did your job.  You can go home now!  As much as I longed for a place that fit me, I was devastated to leave so suddenly.  I wanted to ask her so many things; I wanted to say so many things.  Maybe she’ll be willing to talk to you in a few days.  Clearly now isn’t a good time.  God, why do I have to tear down every single structure I see!?  I can’t prove myself to be anything but a monster in this place. It’s what I’ve always been.

Dusty dirt kicked up in clouds that swirled smoothly around me as I trudged back the way I came.  Hopefully, I could remember where the cliffside was.  I’d already been walking for a while along the tire track trail, but that ended before anything familiar.  My strange inner sense only worked one way, and I'd basically just followed it blindly.  Thinking of it only worsened my mood.  The sense was still pulling me back the way I'd come.

In fact, it's going a bit nuts all of a sudden, what the heck?  Then I heard a vehicle speeding towards me from behind.  I turned to see one of the trucks that had been parked in the mountainside town racing towards me at top speed.  At first I thought the people living there were coming for revenge.  After all, I did destroy their clever hiding place.  As the truck rapidly gained ground towards me, I saw that it was really useless for me to run from it.  Even though I was much faster, my height made it all too easy for them to spot me from miles away and hunt me down.  I slowed and waited as the truck lurched to a stop beside me.

When Erica herself threw open the door and scrambled out, I was so genuinely surprised my heart did a little flip of excitement in my chest.  Shortly afterwards, I realized that this might just be a proper goodbye and sighed, disappointed.  I was kinda hoping to avoid this drama.  Now I'm going to cry for sure, then Erica will feel guilty and want to stay, and then I'LL feel guilty for guilt tripping Erica into staying, and then-  

"Get down here."  Erica said it so sternly I thought she might have been turned against me by the survivors.  I sat down warily in front of the truck.  Erica then climbed up the truckbed and stood on the roof.  This way she could yell at me without having to crane her neck directly up to look me in the eye.  However, now that she was closer to my face, I could see the confliction scattered across her face.  

"I-  When you left," she started, anger rapidly fading from her voice, "I thought you meant you were moving away so you wouldn't scare those people.”  Her eyes darted between both of mine, confusion and concern flickering in their gaze.  “Alexis, why did you say goodbye?"  Erica stepped closer to me, only to nearly slip down the windshield of the truck.  She glanced around quickly, searching for a way to get closer to me and still maintain the height she had.  Finding nothing, she turned back to me.  "I came back as quickly as I could! I wanted to talk with you the moment you put me down, but things got messy… You were going to leave me there?"

I wasn't sure what to say.  "You didn’t come back, and I just-  I couldn't ask you to stay with me,” I explained, “Not after last night."  Erica looked even more confused, so I continued.  "You said you only needed me to survive, but now that you have that whole town to keep you safe..  I mean, of course you want to be with people of your own kind, I get it.  It’s alright, Erica.  Don't worry about me.  You'll be safer with them."

Erica gave me a pitying glance.  "Look," she began, "In the short amount of time I've spent in that town, I've learned a bunch of things, and yeah, it is nice to be around others my own height.  And it's super safe, probably safer than I would be with you, out in the open.  Plus, I know a few people there.  Turns out they weren't taken after all," she shrugged.  "It’s basically the safehaven I’ve been wanting ever since I was first trapped in the city.”

Erica studied my expression closely before continuing.  “But when I had the chance to stay with them.. I stole a truck, drove out to the middle of nowhere, and found you.  Because honestly, who cares if you're ten feet taller than an office building?  I think that’s really fucking cool.  I'd choose your protection over theirs in a heartbeat, and I’d rather travel around fighting hazmat giants tooth and claw with you than hide under a rock with everyone else.  I finally figured it out, Alexis," she stated with unwavering confidence.  "It’s-  It’s been a long time coming, but I know for sure now.  If you’re really leaving, I want you to know.  What you do afterwards is entirely up to you."  

Erica stepped off the roof of the truck, across the hood, and onto my knee while I sat there, cross-legged.  I'd been leaning over with my head propped on my arm, and my arm propped on my leg.  This way, we were at least somewhat eye level.  Once she was balanced nicely, Erica strode up, lifted my chin off my hand, and brought my face to herself.  She looked at me head-on for a heartstopping moment.  Determination lit her eyes with such a fiery passion I was struck still.  Then Erica pulled me closer and planted a small kiss on my lips, binding us together for an immortal moment before shying away a few steps backward, her face flushed a rosey red.

"I don't know if you-  I mean-  I-I love you.. have loved you.  You don’t have to-” she stuttered, "I'msosorryIdidn'tmeantodothat."  Erica stepped backwards a bit more, her head tilted away from me in an attempt to hide her blushing expression.  “You don’t h-have to do anything in return, it’s.. I.. just wanted to…”  She cleared her throat, trying to back away, nearly falling headlong off my leg.

Dumbstruck, my thoughts only came in snippets of their usual size.  Holy shit.  This can't be real.  I love her.  She loves me too!  Why?  How?  Before Erica could back off completely, I swiftly scooped her up and kissed her in return, my lips accidentally covering her entire face.  I held Erica back a moment later, worried that I was suffocating her.  Scrutinizing her little expression, I found she seemed at once both shocked and ecstatically delighted.  Her jaw-dropped expression slowly melted into a radiating smile as she reached for my face again, so I kissed her over and over until she was breathless in my hands.  I peppered her entire body with kisses instead, afraid of accidentally hurting her in my excitement if I kissed her on her face.  

The unspoken words between us suddenly had no meaning.  Their weight lifted from me like bonds finally broken — a constrained creature no longer burdened by its chains.  

Once the euphoria died off, I carefully set Erica down beside me and lay back in the dirt in blissful disbelief.  Erica immediately lay down herself, chest heaving.  She laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all, and I chuckled along with her.  "Wow!" Erica exclaimed after my laughter faded to a delighted sigh, "I didn't think that would work!  I mean, I knew you'd come around to me wanting to stay with you, but I didn't think you would react so… well to.. the other part."  All I could do was nod, too choked up to say anything.  A few minutes ago, I thought we were saying goodbye.  "Now what?" I asked once I found my voice, turning my head to look over at her.

Erica sat up, "We do whatever we want," she answered happily.  "But first, let's go home."  "If that's what you call the few feet of mansion still standing,” I sneered, "then we better get started.  I don't even know how to get back."  I stood up and scanned the horizon; the sun was setting already.  "I think I know.  Let me show you the way."  Erica gestured for me to put my hand out for her, and I eagerly obliged.  She hoisted herself effortlessly over the side of my palm, falling happily onto it.  I grinned down at her, cupping my fingers slightly closer around her.  However, when I lifted her up and started walking, she stopped me.  

"Wait, wait, I've been wanting to try this for a while now, but I've never been able to ask you."  Erica slowly stood in my hand, using one of my fingers to balance herself as she got up.  "Can I sit up there?" she asked, pointing to my shoulder.  "That's not really safe," I noted, glancing at the small space beside me.  Erica grumbled, "Oh, come on.  I'll hold on to your shirt so I don't fall off.  I'll be fine."  After a few more pleas, I gave in and brought the edge of my hand up to my shoulder.  "Just don't hurt yourself," I sighed.  

Erica eagerly planted herself onto the middle of my shoulder, grabbing the fabric of my shirt like reins.  “Alright, that way home!  Let’s go!”  She pointed somewhere to my left, so I walked off in that direction.  However, it wasn’t long before Erica’s grip slipped from my collar.  At the last moment, she managed to grab the back of my shirt as she nearly fell over backwards with a little yelp.  “I told you this was a bad idea,” I said in a warning tone, straining to look backwards at her.  Reaching around my back, I picked her off my shirt and held her out in front of me.  Erica only crossed her arms in defiance and turned away.  "I'll get the hang of it eventually," she grumbled, "but I guess I can sit like this for now."

In the end, Erica rode in my hand yet again.  This time, she was comfortable enough to kneel right on my fingertips.  I had them slightly cupped, trying to ensure at least some safety, but Erica giddily leaned right over them, watching the scenery.  Annoyingly, she somehow evaded every bit of security I tried to give her — rather enthusiastically, too.  I was slightly convinced she put herself in danger just to give me something to save her from.  With one hand pointing out the directions home, and the other gripping my finger for balance, Erica and I headed home together.

Now that she’d confessed how she felt about me, Erica’s whole demeanor had changed.  She was no longer cautious with her actions around me, as if she’d been holding back just as much as I had.  Knowing that I had loved her secretly while she had secretly loved me brought out a new side of her I’d yet to witness.  Her fear of getting too close to me was completely unnecessary now as she threw caution to the wind and confessed what she wanted to tell me.  If only I had been that brave.

With Erica's surprisingly reliable navigation, I managed to make it back before nightfall like I'd hoped we would.  If it had gotten dark while we were still a ways out, I doubted we'd have found our way there.  With Erica safely set on the cliffside, I could finally eat.  My stomach had been growling the last stretch of the trip.  We'd joked about it for a bit before I realized my hunger was slightly more serious than I thought.  Once or twice I had to stop and close my eyes for a moment because my vision kept spinning.  Only then did I realize I hadn't eaten or drank anything all day.  No breakfast; I'd panicked over Erica's disappearance.  No lunch; I was busy waiting at the ravine.  And so far, no dinner either.  I quickly gathered up enough provisions for a decent meal and chowed down.  Erica could only watch me, baffled, as I proceeded to eat more food in that one meal than she could eat in a month.

"Shit," she laughed uneasily, "Why are you always starving?  It's kinda unsettling, really."  "I'm not always starving," I corrected her, "I literally haven't eaten all day.  And yesterday I didn't have lunch, either.  I have to ration this food somehow, or I won't have anything my size left to eat.  My house only has so much food that I can steal."  Erica thought for a moment while I finished scarfing down my buffet for one.  "How did you get my food?  Before we stole stuff from the houses?" Erica asked once I'd finished eating.  "I put mine the shrinking box like I used to do, why?"  "What if," Erica reasoned, "you just make a box that can grow my food to your size?  Or create a box that'll just make food."  

I stared at her blankly, "Do you think that'll work?"  "I don't see why it wouldn't work."  "I'd have to go to my world to make one, though.  Do you think you can hold out alright up there while I disappear for a bit?"  Erica nodded slowly, "Sure, just don't be gone too long, you know?"  I agreed and vanished to my world for a while, again surprising myself with how bright it was before remembering the time difference.

I worked quickly, knowing my father could come back down at any moment.  All I had to do was make a box big enough to fit food my size.  With the table completely barren, I had to search the basement for a bin of building blocks I could use to make it.  Eventually, I found a massive bin of miscellaneous bricks I could use.  It was smooth sailing from there.  Building a large rectangle was easy enough.  Most of the objects I made were box-shaped simply because it was the easiest shape to build.  

I brought my mismatched box into the zone of the weird energy, and concentrated on it; this was how I'd made the previous few objects.  When I put my hand on this box and ask it to produce any type of food, or drink, I added quickly, the item or items will appear instantly within this box.  There, that should do it.  It still looked like the same flimsy, mis-matched creation in my world, so I couldn’t immediately tell if it worked or not, but I would soon find out.  Just before I left, I grabbed two pillows and a blanket off the couch.  I was tired of sleeping on the ground with nothing but my clothes for warmth.

Back in the other-world, I appeared before the cliffside again, box in hand.  It was now a plastic gray rectangle, much more even and sturdy than what I made in my world, and one side was hollow and open to take food from.  "Well, here it is," I held it up for Erica to see after putting down my other belongings.  "Now let's see if it actually works."  I cleared my throat and placed the box on the ground with my hand still on its side.  "Box, make me a banana."  Nothing happened.  I sat on the ground, perplexed.  "What the hell," I heard Erica complain from the ledge above me, "I really thought that would work."  

Quickly, I ran through what I'd created it to do in my head.  I've noticed that when making these things, you have to get the wording as precise as you can or there will be a loophole of some kind.  Sure enough: When I put my hand on this box and ask it to produce any type of food…  I hadn't been specific enough.  I'd told the box to do something instead of asking it like I'd said when I created it.  See what I mean?  The universe always finds a loophole.  I grabbed the box again and asked, "Can you make me a banana?"  Just as I uttered the last syllable, a banana materialized in the box.  "Hey!  You got it to work!"  "Yeah, sometimes these things can be a bit finicky," I replied.

I wasn't really hungry after eating my other stolen goods, but I ate the fruit anyway, simply out of the satisfaction that my box worked.  Then, I settled down on the cliffside, placing my pillows onto the rocks before laying back.  It was blissfully cushy now.  The cliffside really was becoming more and more of a chair to me.  It was the same height, and now it had a similar softness too.  I was sure an actual chair would still be comfier, but I’d take what I could get.  

I sighed happily and watched the night sky.  It was slightly cloudy that night, and what might've been a pretty view was obscured by deep grey clouds that melted into black.  Something suddenly whacked my shoulder and I flinched in fright, but it was only Erica.  "Could you at least give me a warning next time you do that?"  I gave her a peeved look.  "I nearly flung you off."  "That would've been funny."  "No, that would've been stupid."  "Well it's a good thing you have such nerves of steel then, huh?"  Erica snuggled down into the same spot as the night before.  Her feet stretched lazily out down my shoulder, and her head rested halfway up my neck.  I tried to look at her through the corner of my vision, not daring to turn my head.  She seemed so damn comfortable.  Meanwhile, I was stuck with the bare minimum.

We sat together for a while, the two of us surviving out in the destruction of the old city.  I never even bothered to learn its name.  “Hey Erica?”  I felt her shift beneath my jaw, “Hmm?”  “What.. made you decide to come back for me?  How did you know you- you liked me?”  There was a light silence, but after such a heavy question, I couldn’t stand it.  “I’m just asking because…  Well, the whole reason I didn’t say anything was because I thought..  We’re from two different worlds, literally, and-”  “Stop, stop,” Erica told me, placing a hand lightly at my throat, which was right beside her.  “I don’t care where you come from.  I don’t think like that.  Us being friends was one of the best things that happened to me, so when you ran off, I slid back into my old habits.. then the hazmat giants came.. and then.. John.  In short, everything was kind of a melancholy downward spiral from the day you left.  And- And the more awfully I was treated, the more I wanted you back.”

Erica shuddered and I gently placed my hand on my shoulder beside her, assuring her that I was with her.  She gripped one of my fingers tightly to herself, then continued.  “That’s why I said all that stuff about how I wasn’t sure I wanted to be with you, because I wasn’t sure if I genuinely loved you all this time or if I was just desperate for someone to treat me decently for once.”

“And?” I replied nervously.  “And,” she repeated, dropping my finger and scooting closer to my neck.  “I found that it was a bit of both.  But when I was settled into the refugee camp in that mountain with everything I needed, yet still wanted you there, I realized that it was more than just trauma or survival.  I wanted you.”  A large grin stretched across my face and Erica laughed softly.  “Ok, so what’s your story?  I wasn’t going to confess anything because I thought there was no way in hell that you would think of me that way.  I mean.. last time we were together you didn’t exactly think of my kind as worth very much to you.”  

I sighed tiredly and my grin fell.  “There was a time and place where I didn’t think much of you, either,” I confessed, “Just like there was a time and a place where you thought I was a horrible human being, I’m sure.”  Erica nodded slowly.  “But that was.. five-ish years ago, I think.  I’ve learned since then that your kind is basically a smaller copy of mine.  Or, if you prefer, mine can be a larger copy of yours.”  

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but I was thinking it.”  I chuckled, “I don’t really know what started it, actually.  From the very first time I saw you, I’d been attracted to you in some way.  Why else do you think I was so persistent in trying to help you out?  I was thrilled that you let me befriend you.  I think it must’ve been sometime around the day we stayed in and watched movies together when I started to feel.. different about you.  Anyways, it just kinda.. hit me.. a few weeks ago that I felt a bit more strongly towards you than I’d realized.  I’ve been keeping it to myself ever since.”

“Aww, I was wondering why you chose to mess with me and not literally anyone else.  If your methods weren’t a few steps away from psychotic, I’d have found it endearing.”  The frown returned to my face; Erica could feel it from the side.  “I was being sarcastic; don’t get too upset,” Erica assured me.  “I understand what you were trying to do for me, even if I don’t quite understand why you did it in that way.  Besides, that’s all in the past.  Like you said, it’s been five whole years; things have changed.  A lot of things have changed,” she reiterated, gesturing to the ruined landscape in front of us.  “So, we’ll start again again, with the truth this time?”  Erica nodded eagerly, burying her face in the side of my neck, “Yes, please.  I’ve only been daydreaming about that for the last four years.”  “Hey, me too.”

Twice I nearly drifted off right there, but I still refused to sleep with Erica so close.  It was too dangerous — even she had to realize that.  Eventually, I could hear light snoring to my left, signifying that Erica was down for the count.  I don't know how she can fall asleep there.  If it were me, I'd be terrified I'll roll off the shoulder's edge unconsciously.  

Sliding Erica into my hand, I sat up and searched for her sleeping bag again.  Just as I'd found it, slight movement brushed against my palm.  Looking down, I saw her staring up at me with wide eyes.  Then she yawned, and smiled at me sleepily.  I smiled softly back, setting her down gently by her things.  "Nooo," Erica grumbled as I released her.  "Just five, no, fifteen more minutes?  Please?"  I sighed, "Get some sleep, Erica.  I'll let you ride on my shoulder tomorrow, but I need rest."  She nodded tiredly and slid into bed.  "Goodnight."  I shook my head slightly in amusement and spread out the blanket and pillows I'd borrowed off the couch.  Today has to be my favorite day in the other-world so far.  Except for the kidnaping, but everything worked out in the end.  I think…

[cowboygreeting]

𝚊 (𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍) 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎. 𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚍𝚢, 𝚢'𝚊𝚕𝚕. 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗.

𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢, 𝚜𝚘. 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜:

you walk up to the helicopter and step inside, bag and suitcase in hand. the pilot greets you brusquely; you smile at him anyways. it's not kindness, it's courtesy, and you will show it to others regardless of whether you're shown it or not. that's character. and if he doesn't want to talk, fine, you won't talk. you'll sit down and stretch out. your headphones, attached to your old discman, slip over your ears. you tune in and drop out as the beating rotor whisks you away.

you're listening to — not your favourite album, though certainly your choice for when your cd storage is as limited as it appears to be. yer favourites. yer favourites indeed. when did you become a best of album kind of man? it seems like it must have been — a long, long time ago. you press play.

⏯ now playing ... SCARED ... by THE TRAGICALLY HIP

this was one of your favourites. after your parents took you in. they worked hard, making sure you felt like — one of them, part of them. you remember rod sitting in the basement with you, handing you your first jersey in a package you know ellen wrapped up for you. this song was playing. he said he'd take you to a game that week, and he did. you started skating with him that weekend. he would play this album in the car to and from the dinky little ice rink in your subdivision. this is what you're choosing to listen to, think about your father's laugh, the screech of blades scraping against ice, rattling up your bones and reverberating through your chest. the slam of your shoulder against the sideboards when you were still learning how to stop. you hum it under your breath, too quietly for the pilot to hear (you hope) — "there's a precious few, at the root, that can prove, this is all nothing but cold calculation..."

[ A SONG FROM YOUR CHILDHOOD STARTS PLAYING, A MELODY THAT REMINDS YOU OF A TIME WHEN YOU WERE A HAPPY CHILD — ONCE. ]

this is the song you sing to yourself so you don't hear the one in your head. it's discordant, never quite right, but persistent. you hear it now, in between the chopping of the helicopter. it's not really a song, per se, so much as a woman's voice, the implication of a melody. good morning, good morning, you slept the whole night through, good morning, good morning to you. you wonder where it comes from. you know that it's from an old movie, you've looked it up and seen clips, but not like that, it's not the same song. you have a feeling, but you'd rather it not be — you'd rather it be something you'd overheard at work. something you'd heard taylor singing to kai, some fourteen years ago. maybe something your sister sings to hear daughter now, all the way out east.

the sun crests over the treetops, pine spears breaking up the pink-lemonade sky. you'll be the first to admit that the sun rises in this part of the world like it does nowhere else. one thing to like about the assignment, at least. good morning, good morning, it's great to see my friends, good morning, good morning, to you. it makes you a little dizzy, when you listen too long. when you focus too hard. you start tasting rust in your mouth. as your daughter would say: "something wrong with you for real, dad."

𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎. 𝚕𝚎𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜:

a week ago, you’re on vacation. you’re in line at the first-ever starbucks with your daughter, her arm looped through yours. you’re ordering her the biggest size of the worst drink you’ve ever heard of, and get a small — no, tall, sorry, yes — americano for yourself. she thanks you, and you tousle her hair, to her immense indignation. she spends fifteen minutes fixing it in the bathroom — and texting, probably. you don’t mind waiting, even when the minutes are ticking down, before you have to go. she’s happy today, you aren’t going to be an asshole and spoil her fun. you’re going to miss her. you’ll make today good.

you spend the rest of the morning on a bench, watching a fishmonger haul their catches up from the boats. she sketches their moving forms, the fish thrown without care. she takes a glitter pen and colours in their shiny scales. you love it. you ask her for a page of her sketches and she gives you the book. you promise to buy her another and you do. you promise to give it back to her when you’re done. she says only if you draw in it too. you don’t know how to draw; you agree anyways. you’ll try, for her, as you always have.

both of you cry big fat tears when you say goodbye. she sobs into your shoulder; she's never gone a whole year without seeing you. since the day she's gotten a phone she's never gone a week without texting. she doesn't know what she's going to do without the stupid, bad memes you send her. you hold her in your arms while she shakes, and while you know she's been smaller before, that there was a day where she fit in the palm of your hand, you don't feel like it's true. you don't feel like she could be any more fragile — like there could be a decision wronger than leaving now, not staying to keep her safe. you tell her the answer is obvious: she's just going to have to look at better memes. or go on reddit. she starts crying again, probably because of how utterly unconvincing you are.

it'll only be a year. it'll only be a year.

[ A FIDGETABLE, ANALOG ITEM, CAN BE KNIFEY THOUGH YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD REASON FOR IT TO BE ]

the sketchbook stays in your carry on, but you pull out one of her other parting gifts; she's always loved trinkets and knick-knacks, and while you weren't that kind of person before her, you've turned into one. you've never managed to let go of anything she's given you. the latest is the rock-em sock-em robots she picked up from one of those little stores in pike place, that she bought when you weren't looking and gave to you very solemnly.

"these are for you and uncle ro. so you don't die of boredom out there." you thanked her seriously, and it made both of you burst into tears again. even now, you can't hold back your sniffles. it's been so hard with work, trying to be close to her physically, getting to be part of her life — but phones and online, that let you stay close. she's going to be a whole other person when you get out of this place. a year is longer than any length of time could possibly be, when you're fifteen years old.

(she'll be sixteen when you're back. you're missing her birthday. doesn't matter that her mother already has her present from you, you're missing it. you missed last year's, too. because of that conference.

what could possibly have been at that conference that was more important than her?

what could be beyond these trees that could be more important than her?)

it doesn't matter what kind of work you'll be doing. how excited rohan is, or anyone else. how important it could be. that girl is your life. you already feel the regret sinking in. but it's too late now. you're getting close. and something terrible, a migraine's nasty cousin, is pounding behind your eyes. you just need to close them for a second...

[ A PLACE OF GREAT PERSONAL SIGNIFICANCE, BE THAT POSITIVE OR NEGATIVE ]

when you open them, you swear, for a split second, that you're back in montreal. on the western tip of montreal island, locking up your bike outside the staggering glass walls of the greenhouses. you're on the macdonald campus, waiting for your roommate to finish the parasitology class he decided to take out here for some goddamn reason, though you don't really mind, because the arboretum is beautiful and you don't know if you'd have made the trek out here if not for him. you're twenty-one and there's a party tonight, if you want to go. you've been invited, and everybody knows that means he'll be tagging along, too, so it comes down to whether or not he wants to come. if you have fare for the bus, you'll take the bus back to the city. a very small part of you hopes that you won't, so he'll put his feet on the back wheels and his arms around your waist, back to your apartment, trying not to wipe out in the slush. it's just a split second, but it's so, so real, the smell of pine and snow and gasoline, the sound of his voice —

no, you're just stepping off the helicopter. you only hear his voice because he's here, waving at you from behind the – director, presumably, and your new ombudsperson. you'll take the welcome packages and fill out the forms and do everything you have to do before you go find him properly, but the familiarity of it is soothing enough to ground you in place. you're glad you have a friend here. you'd be — fine, otherwise, but it wouldn't... be worth it. worth the excursion, worth losing a year of your life to whatever fresh hell your employer's cooked up for you, but you see the glimmer in his eyes all the way from over here when he sees you and waves, and, okay. maybe it'll be okay. hell, maybe it'll be a little like old times.

you have a new name here. you whisper it under your breath: cowboy greeting. cowboy greeting. cowboy greeting.

seth masters really doesn't seem like the kind of guy who can handle being a broken scale of themis, whatever that might mean. but maybe cowboy greeting can. only one way to find out.

[sweetloleepop]

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑶𝒍𝒅, 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑵𝒆𝒘, 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅, 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆

Chapter 4: White Roses

Synopsis: New chapter, new beginnings

Pairings: Zeke Yeager/Reader, Erwin Smith/Reader

Tags: Modern AU, Arranged Marriage, Additional Tags to be Added, Reader is kind of a dandere, slow burn, fluff

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Wordcount: 945

Four days in Paris came by fast. Erwin and (Y/N) took their time knowing each other more and exploring the place together. It was nice and refreshing, having to wander through a new place and knowing that Erwin, her arranged partner, isn’t really bad. He has been a gentleman throughout their stay there.

In current time, (Y/N) is resting on hers and Erwin’s shared bed in Erwin’s private estate. She has just put all her stuff in their designated places. The room was nice and so is the whole house. Their room has a king-sized bed, a bathroom, a television, a couch and walk-in closets for both her and Erwin.

Erwin has already given her a tour of the place. All its ins and outs and everything. He’s currently downstairs, cooking dinner. He told (Y/N) to take a rest for now since she’ll be doing most of the housework since he’ll be back to his office on Monday.

||

(Y/N) is walking downstairs to the kitchen. Erwin has called her earlier saying that dinner is ready. (Y/N) thought it was very nice of Erwin to cook for her but then again, he is a gentleman.

She arrived at the kitchen and took a seat next to Erwin. They had small talk in between bites and everything seems peaceful. It was very refreshing for (Y/N), to finally live without the fear of doing anything wrong around the person that she lives with. For the first time in her life, (Y/N) felt light. The heavy pressure that her father has brought upon her was finally lifted up.

After dinner, (Y/N) and Erwin did their own nightly routines respectively before hopping onto the bed. (Y/N) felt very comfortable, everything about Erwin now makes her feel safe and comfy, oh how she wishes this would last. One might say that she fell in love so easily but none could ever take away that feeling of freedom and lightness that (Y/N) felt for the very first time. That feeling that so far, only Erwin has ever made her feel.

||

The following morning, (Y/N) woke up with a soundly sleeping Erwin next to her. He looks so peaceful just like this. She admired the way Erwin looked for a good five minutes before she decided to get up. It was 7 in the morning and the sun is already high up. She carefully got out of the bed and watched as Erwin didn’t even flinched. He’s a deep sleeper, (Y/N) thought.

She headed down to the kitchen to make breakfast. Bacons, eggs and toasts, yep. It wasn’t long after she started cooking that Erwin entered the kitchen.

“Good morning,” (Y/N) greeted.

“Good morning” Erwin replied.

“I just started cooking so it might take a little while.”

“Mm, it’s alright, I’ll wait. Thanks for your courtesy of cooking today’s breakfast.”

“It’s nothing. Would you like something to drink?”

“Tea would be nice.”

“Alright.”

The breakfast was nice and delicious. (Y/N) and Erwin ate them together on the dining table. After eating, Erwin took her on a walk around the subdivision. It was a quiet and peaceful place. (Y/N) noticed how most of the houses on their neighborhood are high, rarely a one-storey building. Erwin brought her to the park. There were cafés and a playground. Lots of children are playing and screaming but the sound wasn’t obnoxious in any way, if anything, it sounds peaceful.

The change of environment really had a positive impact on (Y/N), everything she sees are new and everything new here seems peaceful. She and Erwin took a seat on a nearby bench. (Y/N) took a deep breath, this place is wonderful.

They watched as the children played on the playground. They all looked so happy. (Y/N) thought about how nice it must be to be innocent and carefree just like those children.

After a while, Erwin and (Y/N) decided to go home. On their way, (Y/N) noticed a bush of white roses. They were beautiful. She touched its top and felt as its soft petals made contact with her fingers. White roses, a symbolism of purity, innocence, fresh starts and new beginnings. It reminded her of those children in the park and their young, innocent minds. It also reminded her of something– No. Perhaps someone she know, all too well. Herself.

||

Erwin’s office leave is ending and he needs to go back to the office tomorrow. (Y/N) felt a bit sad upon knowing that she’ll be left here alone but she tried not to think much of it, Erwin’s just going to work. That day, they both watched a movie and took a walk in the park.

Monday arrived, Erwin got up early to get himself ready for work. When (Y/N) woke up, she was alone on the bed. She quickly got up and tried to look for Erwin but he was nowhere to be found. She thought Erwin must’ve left early without waking her up .

“Good morning” a deep voice suddenly spoke which made (Y/N) yelp. She looked back to see Erwin in a blue suit. He looks so formal, smart and stunning.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Erwin spoke again.

“Oh, it’s alright. I thought you’ve already left for work”

“I was just about to, I just forgot this,” he took an envelope from his nightstand and showed it to (Y/N).

“Oh, I see. Goodbye then, I don’t want to hold you for long”

“Thank you.”

(Y/N) walked Erwin out and they said goodbye to each other.

“Take care!” (Y/N) cheerfully said to Erwin while waving a little. Erwin gave her a nod before entering his car and driving away.

[blorboclaw]

May I ask how are you sorting suffixes and prefixes? It sounds interesting

OK so basically I've got those categories:

SUFFIXES:

Parts of the body:

Everything that's like Ear, Heart, Claw, Fang, Pelt, Fur, Foot, Eye, Tail, Face, etc

Please note that "Stripe" is not part of it despite being technically a physical attribute.

After that we've got the natural elements suffixes (which also encompasses some prefixes)

It's Fern, Frost, Cloud, Leaf, Flower, Bloom, Feather, Wing, Moon, Storm, Bark, Berry, Shade...

interestingly enough, Stripe is actually in this category despite not corresponding to the definition. That's because I'm trying to define those categories but they're mainly a thing of the mind.

This category also subdivises between "normal" and "weird" (as in would it sound weird in the french translation). Weird are Bloom, Stripe, Frost, Dust and Fern. Cloud is THIS close to being weird.

Then the movements/movement-adjacent:

Flight, fall, sight, leap, step...

And then the Eldritch Monstruosities which are basically just a matter of personnal taste both in terms of "how can it be translated" and "how does it sound once translated".

Namely : Shine, Dust, Pool, Fire, Flame, Gorse, Bush, Hawk, Ice, Dusk, Haze, Puddle, Mouse (and any kind of plant or animal used as a suffix really, including willow, thorn, minnow...)

Then as far as PREFIXES go:

Standard: Is it a name that was present in the allegeances of one of the three first arcs + four SE that are just before Fire comes in the forest AND it's not a name from an injury? it's here.

So basically Blue, Snow, Breeze, Lion, Holly, most birds, most plants, are here. Soot, Rain, Cloud, too. Fire, Pine, Sun, Morning... The only exceptions are:

Colours (white, gray, black, russet, yellow, Golden...) in which I do not count blue because my mind is strange.

Broken, Crooked, Claw(face), Arch(eye), Dead(foot) etc injury/physical particularity names + Spotted, Running, etc names. Tawny counts as one of those not colour. Please don't ask how my mind works.

And the two last categories of prefixes:

Peri-Standard (something that's believable in the context of the first arcs but was not there before: Needle, Eagle, Bumble, Root...)

and WEIRD (something that is either believable but I can't imagine as a prefix, or that is not, imo, believable in the early setting, or just the ones I don't like: Snap, Spire, Parsley, Pear, Apple... + all the daylight warrior names such as Riley, Bella, Harry, Harvey, Billy...)

[hanselbelle]

The Heart of Sunnyville III

Before Aling Tesa’s roosters crow, vehicles of the elders who must go to work sneak out of the gates of Sunnyville 3. With the sun not out, the stars and moon dominating the dark blue sky, the school services of the children come and go unnoticed, except, if you’re listening close enough, for the murmurs of their parents’ goodbye. 

A hint of red appears in the sky; red turns to orange; orange turns to yellow: the sun has risen up, telling the moon and the stars to go to sleep, and saying hello to the subdivision as it engulfs the entire place with its brightness and warmth. The plants in front of each house light up at the kiss of their friend, their roots that are buried deep into the soil inside their pots grow longer and thicker, their stems and petals become vibrant in delight. Smiling old women grab their watering cans to water their lovely plants until their smiles turn into grins at the sight of them blooming. Some of these women stay in front of their houses to bask in the sunlight to get their Vitamin D, some will return back inside to prepare breakfast for their grandchildren who are not old enough for school yet. But not Aling Remy: she refills her watering cans to water the plants at the park. In turn, the mango and banana trees sprout fruit for Aling Remy to take. 

The peace is disrupted by the time the owner of the dogs, and the parents with their infant or toddler walk around the now sunny Sunnyville. They walk around the five long streets, walking through the crevices between houses. The elders chat, the dogs bark at each other, the infants and toddlers babble and laugh, and in the middle of Sunnyville where all the streets lead to, there lies the heart of this place: the park that owes its being to Aling Remy. There they meet, welcomed by the stray dogs and cats who claimed it; acting like kings and queens who demand food from their visitors. At the park, nature is alive. There the fresh wind blows, the earthy smell of soil ushers the passersby to sit on the bench and join the conversation of those who are already there. 

Four houses down the park, an elevated bungalow with concrete rails stands quaintly surrounded by two-or-more-story modern houses. My tiny body sits on its concrete rail with my uncle’s camera at hand, filming the scenery until my great-grandma beckons me inside to make me breakfast because I am not old enough to go to school yet.

Moss covered our concrete front porch, basella alba serves as the curtain of the porch which my uncle and father trim twice a month. Potted plants line up on either side of the stairs, syngonium in wilkins bottle pots are hanging on the wall beside the door. Three plastic chairs outside by the window: a perfect place to bask in the sun early in the morning, that is, when basella alba are recently cut. 

Opening our oak wood door allows the breeze to pass through the wind chime, eliciting a cadence of the soothing clang of clapper against the tiny iron tubes. The walls are painted lime green, the pecan-colored laminated floor smooth beneath my bare feet after I stepped out of our grey welcome mat. Above the door frame is a portrait of my two younger sisters and me drawn by my father, next to it is a plain brown-framed square wall clock. By the window, an old tube TV was on a black stand. Across is a brown sofa set with duct tapes instead of stitches — in my uncle’s defense, bringing it to an upholsterer might damage it more. In the middle is a round hickory brown coffee table where I prefer to sit despite the chidings of the elders; they say being close to the TV will harm my eyesight. Little did they know, I find myself more adorable wearing eyeglasses. The spaciousness of our living room obliges us to run, and even ride our bikes with training wheels without worrying about destroying anything. 

Connected to the living room is the dining room; its walls are decorated with long narrow portraits of Chinese art, and a mirror large enough to fill half the measure of the wall. There is the extended wooden dining table; extended when my father’s family grew up. The chairs, like the table, are wooden. Three out of ten of those chairs have pillows on them, so the children can reach their food. A door in the living room is my uncle’s bedroom, while the one in the dining room is my father’s. Between is where the bathroom is located. 

As my uncle got a job abroad, his room got converted into my siblings' and my room. A full-sized bed, two study tables, and a large dresser are inside. The window has a sill where I like to kneel, with my elbows on the window frame, my cheeks on my palms. On the wall are posters of various cartoon characters, and yet another portrait of me and my siblings. I deemed the corner as a solitary space: a space enough for my body to fit, serene enough to fill my imagination with books and k-zone magazines on my lap. This area I love for obscure reasons is the area that gave me a wonderful childhood; an area that taught me to love quietness and stories. 

In my parents’ room, which has been my father’s room since he was a teen, has its walls covered in band posters, paintings, and doodles. My mother once had complained about it, insisting to have it repainted, but my father would disagree saying that his room is the sole reminder of his creative youth. Though a mere child, I find his argument hypocritical, for he would pinch my sister’s hip whenever he would find a pencil or crayon-drawn stick figures on the wall. 

The kitchen is my least favorite part of the house: located at the very back, the light dimmed, and unnervingly silent. Once, a family friend who claimed to have her third eye open, said a white lady lives beside the sink. I always wondered if that is the reason why my great-grandmother and grandparents live in a separate house, preferring to visit us in the morning and afternoon, and would haste to leave before dusk. 

At four in the afternoon, after waking up from a long nap, hours after my school service escorts me back home: I kiss my mother’s cheeks before coming down to our moss-covered stairs that used to be perilous for my younger self. 

Kuya Aiden, a boy four years older than me, awaits me on the basketball court with our other friends. Roaring shouts of young boys are tolerated until six, but until then, their thundering voices are heard throughout the subdivision along with the cheers of the watchers. 

By the time we get bored, we will go back to our respective houses to grab our bikes (mine with training wheels) and meet each other in front of Ate Diane’s house across the park. The wind, as I like to think, greets me when it whistles, making the leaves of the trees rustle in response, as though greeting me just as exuberantly as the wind. “You’re punctual,” my friends often tease me, laughing and jabbing my sides, saying that I must have gotten awards for being the most punctual student in the class. I laugh, of course, I laugh hard as they do. I appease them with a nod of my head, agreeing that I was snubbed for not receiving the said award. Call me selfish if the reader must, but I enjoy the hug of the coolness of the park. Its whistles and breeze are made for me. The park might be our rendezvous, but it is I’s and the wind’s tryst. 

The laughter winds down (no pun intended), the jokes get old, Kuya Aiden pedals his bike, and we follow him like his own little army. This is the part where the residents complain; whining at how loud my friends’ hollers are, how the thuds of our bikes clatter when we pass the rumble streets, the continued hitting of the bells of our bikes that some confuse as the bell of Mamang Binatog: grumpy residents learned to hate afternoons because of us, but who does not love the noise of the laughter of the children besides old people? Certainly, not the streets of Sunnyville, for as we pedal faster and louder, the sun shines brighter causing sweat to trickle down our backs and faces, the swoosh that trails us — Sunnyville, I believe, thanks us by filling the noiseless void of its streets. Along with the singing of the birds and the barks of the dogs, we fill it with the colors of our fast-ending youth. 

On the third left turn from the park, on the third street, we are met by an intimidating slope. It is steep, and when one mistakenly swerves their handlebar, one might crash into a house that forces one to roll down the slope and end up wounded. Young, dumb, and free as we are, we take the danger as a challenge, especially me, who has training wheels — what should I fear? The wound will hurt, sure, but the wound will heal. I may fall, but the concretes of Sunnyville will catch me. My pride is bigger than the number of wounds I can get, and so I push the pedal forward with my tiny feet: at the tender age of 10, I have never felt more alive. 

Once drenched and reeking, Kuya Aiden looks up at the setting sun knowing it is his responsibility to bring us home before dark. It is the sun’s call to stop us from exhausting ourselves, the moon and star’s duty to guide us home safe if we ever decide to stay for a while, and if we do stay until the night, the gates of the subdivision protect us from the harm the outside may bring. And so the blue sky turns to yellow, to orange, to red, and to black; the court turns mute; the streets silent — Kuya Aiden flicks his flashlight on, and a little army of ants in a colony that we are, we follow our leader to lead us back to our homes. 

The joke of punctuality is now long forgotten among our group of friends, it is replaced by “when’s the wedding?” and “yies” and coos directed to Kuya Aiden and me. He responds with a hearty laugh whenever the joke is brought up, not knowing the concept of love, but dreaming and seeking it as an oblivious teenager. I, too, laugh, and unlike Kuya Aiden, I have found love in the solitary of the night the park gives. 

Eight in the evening is the perfect time for him to pick me up from home; the perfect time to walk down the streets towards the park; the perfect time to look at the night sky; the perfect time to gaze up at Orion; the perfect time to appreciate the hues of orange emitted by the street lights; the perfect time to hold his strong arm — the perfect time to be. 

Stray cats and dogs are already fed at this time, all are sleeping soundly on the benches and stone tables. We pick up the cats on the bench we prefer to sit, place them on our laps and pet them until they go back to their deep slumbers. Under the night sky with trees hovering over us, Sunnyville knows better than to assume Kuya Aiden and I are the lovers in this scenario. Sunnyville knows my love for the park: it saw the way I gaped at the park when I was 4, it knows the reason why I hurry to bike my way to feel the breeze before my friends could when I was 9, and it understands why I bring my best friend there with me every chance I can get at night when I turned 14. 

With the serenity of the dark, the hushed conversations and secrets we say are guarded by the trees who swore not to tell anyone. At the park, we are honest and bold: we unleash our skeletons from our closet, we talk about the things we’re not supposed to talk about, and we confess our infatuations for the people we are not supposed to love. At the park, he cried when he loved a man. The coldness envelopes us with comfort and assurance, the park lets us be us without judgment. At the heart of Sunnyville, my heart first beat for love, and at 15, when my uncle sold our house to move to another place, my heart broke into two: I buried the other half deep into the soil of the park, hoping it will sow another tree and will bear a fruit for Aling Remy to take.  

[fardell24b]

Spider Quinn 12 Rise of the Green Goblin - Part 7

Mayor Lawson was on edge. He read through the Sun-Herald’s article again. “Pure speculation!” he groused to himself. ‘There’s no proof there’s an actual fourth costumed vigilante.’

There was a buzz.

“What?”

“Norman Osborn is here demanding to see you.”

“Send him in!” he said.

“I see you’re aware of the news.” Osborn said.

“Are you behind this rumor?” Lawson asked. “Lawndale doesn’t need more people taking the law into their own hands!”

“I am not,” Osborn responded. “But this is exactly the sort of thing my proposal is designed to deter.”

“I doubt it. They will find a way to hide. And I know you’re out to get SpiderGirl. I may not like that she’s taking the law into her own hands, but she’s giving this city hope.”

“But what about the other two?”

“SpiderGirl vouches for Ninja Talon, it seems. The Shadow is more elusive. I doubt that whatever you’re planning will work,” Lawson answered.

“And if there is an actual fourth?”

“Then whoever they are will make themselves known at some point.”

“With my proposal we’ll catch them quicker,” Osborn argued.

“I will think about it!”

“And don’t forget that the Council approved it. You can’t drag your heels too much.”

“And I know you influenced the vote!” Lawson shot back. “Now get out.”

Osborn left City Hall with annoyance. He was sure that the Mayor would be instringeant every step of the way.

“Quinn Morgendorffer and Gerald Brown, please report to the Principal’s Office.”

“What?” Gerald asked himself.

Quinn knew it had something to do with what she had talked about with Mr. O’Neill that morning. She entered the Principal’s office.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Morgendorffer. We’ll wait for Mr. Brown to get here.”

“Of course.”

It didn’t take long for Gerald to get there. “What is this about?”

“Miss Morgendorffer asked Mr. O’Neill to find some elocutionists for you, and so he did. However, I must inform you that the school will not pay the fees for you.”

“So, they would teach me how to project?” Gerald asked.

“Yes, along with pronunciation and dramatic reading,” the Principal answered.

“How much are we talking about here?” Quinn asked.

“About 30 to 40 dollars an hour,” the Principal answered.

“Doesn’t seem that steep,” Quinn said. “What do you think?”

“I depends how often the sessions are and how long they are.” Gerald responded.

“Then it sounds good,” Quinn said.

“I knew you would say that,” the Principal said as she handed a sheet to Gerald.

Quinn and Gerald stepped out of the Principal’s office.

“What do you think?” Quinn asked.

“I will think about it,” Gerald responded.

At the same time, Daria and Jane were on the roof. “So, you’re concerned that you’ll change too much?” Jane asked.

“That’s it,” Daria confessed.

“Don’t worry, you’ll still be you.”

“I know. It’s just happening quite fast.”

“I’ll be here for you,” Jane promised. ‘Just as I am out there for Lawndale. I will find a balance.’

‘Angie is doing a lot better,’ SpiderGirl thought as she swung away from the school that afternoon. Her thoughts turned from the tutoring session she had just had back to the question of the Enigma. ‘I’m still not sure what to do. But I will be looking out for her.’

Sandi was at the pizza place, sitting in a booth with Harry Osborn. “Penny for your thoughts?” Harry asked.

“Just thinking about things,” Sandi responded. “Family is complicated.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Harry said. “My father means well, but he’s distant.”

“It’s more that I’m clashing with my mother’s restrictions,” Sandi said.

“A rebel?”

Sandi nodded.

“Whatever it is, it can’t be too bad, right?”

“No, it isn’t,” Sandi responded with determination.

Gerald got home, to his family’s small house in an older subdivision of Lawndale a few blocks west of the downtown. He saw that his mother was home. “Ms. Li called earlier,” she said,

“Yes?”

“We can afford the lessons, but it depends on how often and how long each one is.”

“Good,” Gerald responded.

“It is up to you.”

“As I told Ms. Li and Quinn, I will think about it.”

As Helen finished work, she looked towards the Historia from her office window and remembered her conversation with Elisabeth. “Have you been to the Historia yet, Marianne?”

“Not yet, Helen. I haven’t had time,” Marianne answered as she got ready to leave.

“You could come now.”

“No thanks. Another time.”

“That’s OK.”

Helen entered the Historia and saw that the restoration was better than she thought. “How much of it was Daria and Quinn, though?” she asked herself.

“Helen!” Elisabeth said.

“Coming.”

SpiderGirl arrived back at the Morgendorffers and entered by the basement, where she changed back to her usual self. She then had another look at her design for the chute locking mechanism. ‘It shouldn’t take long, but I better check that Daria isn’t home.’

That didn’t take long and Quinn started on the instalment of the locks on the bottom of the chute.

After dinner, Sandi was ready again. ‘But what is Mom going to talk to me about?’ she wondered. She knew that there was more to her powers that her mother hadn’t told her yet.

She opened the yearbook again. After Erin Archer was Tania Ashworth, with short dark hair. She downed the energy drink. “Finndu mann sem heitir: Tania Ashworth!”

She found Tania at her home, which was also on Grandstaff Drive, a few blocks away.

“Four down.”

This time, Quinn didn’t feel a tingle as the Ashworths were closer to the Griffins than the Morgendorffers.

Linda came up to where Sandi was practicing in the backyard. “There is more to your powers than I have taught you so far.” she said.

“That’s not surprising,” Sandi responded. “You, like, taught me what I already know gradually after all.”

“True.”

“What’s next then?”

“This,” Linda said as she generated a forcefield around her. “It contains aspects of both the energy projection and the telekinesis.”

“How?”

“Hold out your arms and then think ‘protection’. That’s how I started with it. I was a little older than you are now and I figured it out without your grandmother instructing me, but given what you are doing…”

“Got it,” Sandi said. She held out her hands and thought ‘Protection!’ The energy projection sparked in front of her, forming a partial shield.

“That’s a good start,” her mother praised. “Now the telekinetic component. This will also help you use the two powers in tandem.”

Sandi concentrated, focusing on where the energy shield was. The shield then stabilised, looking more like the one that surrounded her mother. “Yes!”

“Now, try to make it bigger.”

Sandi nodded and concentrated more and it got larger. But she quickly tired out.

Her mother deactivated hers. “It will get easier, like it did with everything else.”

Sandi nodded.

“But I still disapprove of you wanting to confront SpiderGirl.”

Quinn looked at the completed locking mechanism. “Done.” She then tested it, locking and unlocking it. ‘Perfect, for now. But I need to test the other side.’

Quinn drew up the board covering the chute in the closet. “I’m definitely going to need some pulleys,” she murmured. She shot a couple of webs to the sides of the closet after pushing clothes aside. “Here goes.” She then lowered herself down the chute. She then tested the locking mechanism from the other side. It worked! She then pulled herself back up to the closet.

“That will do for now,” she decided as she placed the board back. But she still had to clean up in the basement.

When she came back up from the basement, she saw that both her mother and Daria were in the kitchen. “Quinn, I have brought some takeaway from the Historia,” her mother said.

“That’s good. Did you have a good time?”

“I did.”

“That’s good,” Quinn said.

“The restoration seems to be done rather well.”

“That was more Mrs. Rowe working with Mr. Osborn, than us,” Daria responded.

“I knew it wasn’t just you two,” her mother said.

Before bed, Quinn wrote in the journal. No low tingle tonight. Did whoever it was take a break? ‘That’s likely.’

At midnight, the Enigma emerged from the Griffin’s backyard into the lane behind. She was sure that she would be less likely to be seen there than from Grandstaff Drive. ‘Not all of Lawndale has laneways, but that doesn’t matter.’ She then headed downtown, keeping to the laneway to the north of Grandstaff Drive.

As she came to the rear of the Ashworth’s place, she looked into the yard. ‘I doubt Tania is SpiderGirl or Ninja Talon,’ she thought. She continued.

The Shadow arrived at the store that had been broken into two nights before. ‘Was there a fourth vigilante? Was it just a rumor? Or was it true? I guess I am looking tonight.’ She turned and looked towards the Historia. ‘It offers a better vantage point.’

On top of the restored theatre, she activated her mask’s magnification mode and started looking at the streets she could see.

The Enigma saw something on the top of the Historia as she turned a corner. She took out a pair of binoculars. ‘Doesn’t look like SpiderGirl or Ninja Talon,’ she thought. ‘Could it be the Shadow?’ She didn’t want to meet the Shadow. Meeting Ninja Talon had been awkward enough. ‘I am doing this for Lawndale!’ she thought once again. She thought some more. She didn’t need to connect with the other vigilantes who weren’t SpiderGirl to help Lawndale. ‘Another time,’ she thought. But still, maybe she could gain some information.

The Shadow saw someone approaching the Historia, a girl clad in purple with brown hair in a high ponytail. ‘The new vigilante?’ she asked herself. ‘It seems it’s another teenager.’ But she knew that most of the students at Lawndale High had brown hair. ‘It doesn’t really narrow it down.’ She then climbed down to meet her.

“The Shadow, I presume?” the Enigma asked as the other approached her.

“Yes. But I don’t know who you are,” the other said.

“The Enigma.”

“The Enigma?”

“You’re the one calling herself the Shadow,” the Enigma pointed out.

“SpiderGirl came up with it, otherwise I would have been ‘Lawndale’s Nameless Hero’ for a while.”

“Again, it all comes back to SpiderGirl!” the Enigma projected.

“You have something against SpiderGirl?” the Shadow asked.

“Yes! She hasn’t been doing much of a good job.”

“I’m sure she has been.”

“That was what Ninja Talon said,” the Enigma said.

“Then listen to her. Why call yourself the Enigma anyway?”

“Like, I’m figuring things out.”

“That’s everybody isn’t it?” The Shadow asked. “Wait, you want to confront SpiderGirl? How would that help Lawndale?”

“Like, that’s also what Ninja Talon asked. But what we think would help Lawndale is different!”

“Of course. I’m certain that SpiderGirl, Ninja Talon and I disagree on that, but we worked well together.”

“Wasn’t that outside Lawndale?” the Enigma asked.

“It was still in the County,” the Shadow pointed out.

“I guess so. But I only have your word on that.”

“It didn’t come up with Ninja Talon?”

“No, I had had enough and left,” The Enigma answered.

“Gave you a lot to think about, didn’t she?”

“No comment.”

“I have got you there,” the Shadow said.

“Maybe, but do you have powers?”

“I’m neither confirming or denying, but I do use some theatricality in my escapades.”

“Such as?” the Enigma asked.

“You’ll see when I leave. But do you?”

“Yes,” the Enigma said. She fired off an energy projection to the side and then drew the debris it produced into her hand.

“Impressive,” the Shadow responded. “But think about what Ninja Talon and I have said.” She turned and produced a cloud.

The Enigma stepped through the cloud but the Shadow had vanished. ‘I guess that’s what she meant by theatricality.’

The Shadow watched as the Enigma walked off down the street. ‘That power is certainly different to what SpiderGirl does!’ she thought. She didn’t want to know what it would do to people. ‘Did she demonstrate it to Ninja Talon? And has she warned SpiderGirl? I have no idea where to find her.’ She wasn’t sure what would happen next. ‘At least I need to tell Trent,’ she decided. ‘But maybe not the name. I don’t want him including it in a Spiral lyric by mistake.’

The Enigma thought about what the Shadow said as she walked off. ‘I will still confront SpiderGirl, when I find her,’ she decided. She went a short distance before looking back at the Historia.

Nearly an hour later, Trent saw Jane come into the kitchen. “Janie?”

“I met the new vigilante,” Jane said.

“Oh.”

“She has some kind of energy projection powers.”

“Energy projection?” Trent asked rhetorically “Hmm, sounds dangerous.”

“Yes, potentially dangerous for Lawndale, and for SpiderGirl. She wants to confront her. I couldn’t dissuade her of that, nor could Ninja Talon it seems.”

“You met Ninja Talon again?”

“Not since last week,” Jane answered “The new vigilante did at some point.”

“Oh. Did you get a name?”

“I did, but I don’t want you putting it in Spiral lyric before it becomes publicly known.”

“I guess putting SpiderGirl in a song less than a month after she first appeared wasn’t a good idea,” Trent mused. “But, Janie. I haven’t put the Shadow in yet.”

“I thank you for that, but I know you’re figuring out how to mention Ninja Talon.”

“Good point.”

“I guess I will have to keep an eye out for SpiderGirl,” Jane said.

“How do you figure?”

“She needs to know this new vigilante is out to confront her.”

“But maybe Ninja Talon has already told her. They seemed pretty close,” Trent said.

“Probably. But I will try to find her anyway.”

A short while later, SpiderGirl sat on the roof, listening to Lawndale. ‘It seems peaceful. But is this the calm before the storm? The Enigma is still out there, and who knows what people are planning.’

Norman Osborn awoke from another of his dreams. “No! No! No!” he said, his hands on his temples, looking towards where he had put the glider blueprints. “I won’t do it!”

Lawndale Sun-Herald

Friday, February 2, 2001

Will SpiderGirl appear at the Groundhog Day Festival?

‘Somehow, I don’t think trying to outcompete Punxsutawney is the way forward,’ SpiderGirl thought as she put the paper aside. She then continued her pre-school patrol.

Brittany arrived at the Town Square, where the first of the festivities was to be held. She wasn’t sure why Ms. Li had asked her to represent the School. She soon found the Principal.

“There you are, Ms. Taylor,” she said. “Here is a speech that Ms. Landon wrote. Go and make Lawndale High proud.”

‘You mean, make you proud,’ Brittany thought, but she kept that to herself.

“Now Representing Lawndale High School, Brittany Taylor!”

“On behalf of Principal Li, Faculty and Students of Lawndale High School, I welcome you to Lawndale's inaugural Groundhog Day Festival! Soon, the Groundhog is going to come out and see if there will be another six weeks of winter. Please enjoy yourselves, and breakfast will be served afterwards…” She then continued the speech.

[saintjohnsestates]

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Making a custom home is something beyond developing a structure - it's tied in with understanding a dream. In St. Johns, regarded manufacturers team up intimately with property holders, guaranteeing that each part of their fantasy home mirrors their character and way of life.

Discover Your Dream Home in St. Johns

Might it be said that you are prepared to leave on an excursion to homeownership dissimilar to some other? Investigate the appeal of custom homes in St. Johns, where extravagance meets independence, and each corner recounts a story. Whether you look for serenity in the midst of nature or the comfort of your local area, St John Subdivision invites you to transform your fantasy home into a reality.

[beachstarrealtycom]

Poolside Perch-2020 CG 104

Newly remodeled in 2023!! 2 Bed/2 Bath ground floor condo steps from the pool, hot tub, grilling deck and picnic areas. Living room includes a queen sleeper sofa and 50" Roku TV. The generous kitchen area with dining table for 4 and bar stool seating will easily accommodate your family. Just a quick drive to the beach, Cross Gate Villas is perfectly located between Hwy 17 Bypass and 17 Business in the Deerfield subdivision right in the middle of the action and amenities of Surfside Beach, "The Family Beach"! With a fully equipped kitchen and washer/dryer you will be able to relax with all the comforts of home!

Changes in Attitude-203D GBR

Located in the quiet & peaceful Retreat at Glenn's Bay in the heart of Surfside Beach, the "Family Beach"! This spacious 4 bed/3 bath condo has 2 Primary Bedroom Suites, each equipped with a private bath on the condo's first floor. It is absolutely perfect for the extended family or 2 families traveling together. Boasting 3 balconies, you can have breakfast outside in the cool morning air. Or rent a golf cart and ride take it straight down Surfside drive to the beach, just 1 mile away.

Jen's Bay Retreat-201D GBR

The Retreat at Glenn's Bay is one of the best possible locations in Surfside! Just 1/4 mile from downtown Surfside and just over a mile from the gorgeous and brand new Surfside Pier, you can enjoy the beautiful beach weather from either of the shaded screen porches or access to the pool just steps away. This beautiful 4 bed/3 bath Villa, boasting over 1500 sf. of space allows gas powered golf carts, which you can take directly to the beach. Enjoy getting around to the grocery store, beach or dinner with a family fun adventure by golf cart.

A Bird's Eye View

Delight yourself, your family and friends as you escape to the Grand Strand of South Carolina.

The best of Myrtle Beach with it’s sun, surf and style awaits you at The Chelsea Condominium on Ocean Blvd with ocean views just across from the Atlantic Ocean. This 3 bedroom 2 bath 1500 square foot gem is not only comfortable, it is nearby every adventure thrill-seekers beach bums, kids or grandparents would desire.

Enjoy early mornings on any one of the three balconies with a cup of your favorite coffee as the sun rises and you gather your thoughts for the days activities while enjoying the salt air breezes. Spend the afternoon sunning on the beach or exploring the Grand Strand with its many venues and attractions. In the late afternoon enjoy your favorite beverage while discussing the activities of the day and enjoying the courtyard style pool and hot tub. The open design of the living / kitchen area allows everyone in your party to chat and swap stories whether they’re kicking up their feet or whipping up a meal. Another perk of staying at your own private condo at the Chelsea is having spacious sleeping accommodations that leave you totally refreshed for the next day’s adventures. Wanting to enjoy a dinner out? The Grand Strand is complete with everything from high-end seafood establishments to casual family style places. Your stay at the Chelsea House will be memorable and one of those life-time experiences.

For more details on our products and services, please feel free to visit us at: Deerfield Surfside Rentals, Deerfield Plantation Rentals SC, Deerfield Vacation Rentals, Myrtle Beach Rentals & Myrtle Beach Vacation Rentals.

Please feel free to visit us at: https://www.beachstarrealty.com/

[thebaepatricia]

Over the Weekend: Training Maxes

Over the weekend, Dani and I worked on my training maxes.

It was a long time coming and delaying it further was starting to make me antsy - rightfully so as knowing my training maxes would solidify my working sets and let me actually progress while working within my strength range - away from injuries and ego lifting.

It was interesting to know that I had more in my tank than I assumed. Interesting, but not really surprising as I pride myself in being a conservative lifter albeit it not really being a badge of honor or a good flex.

I had an ambitious goal to train all maxes within one gym session. It appeared ambitious mostly because I was naive. I didn't anticipate not having the energy for such a long session. I had the drive, but also needed to be practical.

We were able to also finally see the gym near the Navarro marketplace (Fitholic Gym). Long story short, it was not good enough for our standards. I decided it was best to go back home, rest for a bit, and re-try training in the afternoon.

While we're there, we made the most of the distance and walked the entire 3.15km home. It was scorching hot to say the least and it was post-semi gym session, which made it more challenging. It wasn't like I had any other choice though. By the time I wanted to throw in the towel, we were a few feet away from the subdivision gate and it would be lame hitching a tricycle ride for 1 more minute.

The best part from killing ourselves over walking under the heat of the sun was coming home to my new squat shoes waiting for me at the guard house.

Saturday

We trained my Zercher squats and I managed to go up to 80 kg. That was surprising for me. The few times I attempted to go heavy, I couldn't do more than 60 or 62.5kg. Of course that was also my attempt at sticking within my comfort zone. For progressive overload, that's the last thing you want to do.

My new shoes helped a lot. Plus, the fact that I finally tried on my knee sleeves. It was challenging to put on, but they gave in eventually. The shoes fit so well and I appreciate the fact that it's spacious on the toes area. The soles are properly heavy and, aesthetically, it looks nice. Apparently, white suits me.

Sunday

We didn't have enough time to train my bench press although I was mostly excited for that compound. So we decided to continue the next day before Dani went home.

I was surprised (and a tad disappointed) that I my training max was close to my normal working set. I guess because it's my favorite so I was expecting a bit more. I managed to do until 55 kg decently.

Dani was supposed to head home that evening, but his back hurt (a personal rating of 8 out of 10), so we gave him medicine and let him lay down for a bit.

Monday

We did the morning walk (3km) with Dani holding a stick because I was too frightened to walk the streets with too many stray dogs guarding the premises.

He headed home that late afternoon, but before he did, I decided we could test out my deadlift max while he was still around to coach me and spot me, if needed. I didn't eat heavy breakfast that morning since I wasn't planning to do the deadlift max. This resulted in me being a bit underfed for the session. I ate macaroni salad as my intra-workout snack.

With Dani's encouragement, my trash motivational pop music, bites of macaroni salad in between sets, and lots of pep talk, I was able to pull 135 kg as my best training rep.

_____

I've always been a late bloomer. Perhaps my multiple setbacks caused by doubts, lack of confidence, injury, minimal support system, and everything else were actually vital in molding me into the person I am today.

Had I not been marinated into all those odds and excuses in the past, I wouldn't appreciate my journey today and I would have no wake up call to snap me back to reality and make me see my own potentials.

Anyway, here are some photos from Saturday afternoon during the failed palengke gym session:

[realtyhubph-blog]

532 sqm Bungalow in L&S Angeles City

Pre-owned Bungalow in L&S Angeles City! ☀️ Corner lot (532 sqm) with development potential. Close to SM City & schools! (#JMListings #AngelesCityRealEstate)

📍L&S Subdivision Santo Domingo, Angeles City, Pampanga Philippines Property Features TYPE: House and Lot📐 Lot: 532 square meters✅ Corner Unit, Morning Sun✅ With old bungalow structure NEARBY POINTS OF INTEREST SM City Telabastagan • Chevalier School • Sacred Heart Hospital • Marquee Mall • Angeles City Sports Complex • Holy Angel University • Robinsons Place Angeles •  Pamintuan Mansion…

[reallca-blog]

Unwrapping the Wonka Bar Vol. 1 - Where is Charlie’s Town Located? Part 12

If you haven’t read the previous post, click here for Part 11 to make sure you are caught up to speed. If you’re already read the previous posts, then welcome back and let’s get back to the show!

Exhibit #10: Reflection/Reasoning for our Findings

Now that we can see all of the puzzle pieces spread out on the table and organized in the right order, I can say that placing Charlie's town in the London Borough of Redbridge feels right. Obviously, this location fits in with all the information given to us pertaining to the location of the town in both the film and additional materials, such as the map included in the prop newspaper announcing Violet as the third Golden Ticket winner. This East London location also helps explain why Charlie's town is covered in snow while the Salt Family Manor in County Buckinghamshire only about 35 miles to the west is clear and sunny, because the heat generated by the metropolis between both location dissipated any snowfall that traveled in that direction.

Sidebar #11.1: The Salt Family Manor is built facing north and south, and I can tell this by pointing out two facts. One: since we have established that the winter storms that result in Charlie's town being covered in snow get dissipated by the heat of London to the east of the manor, I will point out that you can actually see something that looks like a weakened storm in the establishing shot of the Salt Family Manor before the Salt's interview on the right side of the screen.

It is clear that there is some storm off to the east, in the direction of London, that did not make it over the Salt Family Manor in County Buckinghamshire, which explains why the ground is free of snow there while Charlie's town is covered in it. We also know that the direction in which the dark clouds hang over towards is in fact the east as in an internal shot of the Salt Family Manor you notice a distinct lack of natural light while journalists interview the Salts.

This is because the windows in the Armoury, the room where all the internal shots of the Salt Family Manor were filmed in, are facing northward, meaning direct sunlight cannot enter as the sun's rays point towards northwest in the morning, north at midday and northeast in the afternoon, resulting in them being blocked by the rest of the manor house.

But, back to the purpose of this installment of this volume. With the London Borough of Redbridge having been designated as the location of Charlie's town, I began to research the area and what I found only seem to confirm that this borough was in fact where Burtonville is located. The London Borough of Redbridge is in East London, an area infamous for its poverty and at first glance that sounded just like the type of place Charlie's town was located. And as I looked deeper into the specifics of not just the borough, but the subdivision of the borough where Burtonville would be located, the Ward of Hainault, the economic situation there only sounded more and more like what we saw in the film. In a blog post from the British newspaper, The Guardian, from 2012 titled Deprivation and poverty in London: get the data, we can see in one pictograph that the Ward of Hainault is colored in dark orange, which according to the pictograph indicates a higher than average "Level of Depravation." And while the depravation is not as bad as in the urban core of East London, it is clearly one of the most deprived wards on the edge of Northeast London.

An additional pictograph included in the blog post also elaborated on the rates of child poverty in the boroughs of Greater London, something rather relevant when discussing Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. And once again we see that the Ward of Hainault is one of the most affected wards on the northern end of Northeast London, with a child poverty rate of somewhere between 40.1% and 49.9%.

I did some additional research into the topic of child poverty in London and discovered a 2022 report by the Trust for London, "an independent charitable foundation established in 1891 to tackle poverty and inequality in London," which claims that child poverty in the London Borough of Redbridge is currently at 40%, which lines up with the results from a decade prior.

But, with such data having been collected well after the events of the film transpired, that is to say once Charlie and the Buckets moved into Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory and were no longer the victims of the chronic poverty that plagued their town, let alone the fact that Charlie would already be an adult by then, I looked for data from closer to the events of the film. I was able to find a report spanning 10 years created by HM Revenue and Customs, a non-ministerial department of the UK Government responsible for the payment of some forms of state support among other duties, and published by the Greater London Authority, the local city government, that started back in 2006, a year after the events of the film took place. In short, the report states that 36.1% of all children, and 37.9% of children below the age of 16 in the Ward of Hainault reside in poverty, meaning that over one out of every three children in the ward experienced poverty, which definitely sounds like Charlie's town and Charlie's own experience before becoming Willy Wonka's heir.

These atrocious economics stats for the Ward of Hainault are also not coincidences either. In short, there is a well documented history of this area of London struggling economically through the entire 21st century. As you can see in this pictograph posted on the blog of Alasdair Rae, a Professor at the Department of Urban Studies and Planning at the University of Sheffield, the Ward of Hainault was clearly one of the most "deprived" areas on the edge of Northeast London in 2005, the year that the majority of the events depicted in the film transpired in.

The outlook didn't get better as the years went on either, as we can see in these two pictographs produced by Chris Gale from University College London's Department of Geography, which was posted on Mapping London. The Ward of Hainault is ranked a 2 in which a ranking of 1 is considered to be the "most deprived" in both 2007 and 2010.

In short, with such an economically deprived community located in the real-world Ward of Hainault, it makes sense that Charlie's town would be located here. For not just does the real world data reflect what we see within the Bucket family, it also reflects what we see with the rest of the residents of Charlie's town. While the rest of the residents of Burtonville are far from being as destitute as the Buckets are, they definitely are not living affluent lives.

For example, the rest of the residents live in social housing, most likely council homes, built during the Postwar period.

And nearly everyone drive vehicles that well-over a decade old.

I should also mention that social housing refers to public housing built in the UK so that people who cannot afford to buy a home from private developers can get one built by the state so that they do not go one to become homeless. And council homes are a subset of social housing where everything is built and run by the local government, such as the  Redbridge London Borough Council, the legislative arm of the London Borough of Redbridge. The highest peak of social housing construction took place in the 1950s, coinciding with the Postwar era we mentioned before, when, according to an article from sellhousefast.uk on social housing, the government needed another "quick and cheap method of building houses" because the method they were primarily using just wasn't cutting it. The government was also looking for a type of home that was "easier to construct, as England faced a skills shortage," which resulted in the creation of pre-cast reinforced concrete houses, an architectural style which bears striking resemblance to the types of homes built in Charlie's town.

Interestingly enough, PRC homes were found to be "liable to deterioration of [the] reinforcing steel and the cracking of concrete panel [...] as they were extremely cheap" in the 1980s and so their particular construction style was stopped for safety concerns. However, by then, all of the homes in Charlie's town would have been built as we see the structures already standing without any construction crews in sight during Willy Wonka's flashbacks to his childhood in 1975.

All of this is to say that Burtonville seems to be a council estate, a community of social housing homes which makes sense if we consider the town to be a postwar invention where the British and Americans who stayed in the UK after World War II banded together and built a small commuter town on the edge of the London area. All of the homes, even the Bucket's solitary cottage that is detached from the rest of the houses in town, are all made of the same materials. And considering how PRCs are known to deteriorate over long periods of time, it's no wonder why the Bucket home is in the condition it is in, it is a PRC home which time has finally caught up to.

The twisted shape that the materials have morphed into looks like the manifestation of the description of the reenforcing steel deteriorating over time.

And the Bucket home is also shown to consist of cracking concrete panels as well, only matching up with what PRC social housing from the postwar era would look like after decades of wear and tear even more.

And before we wrap up this section, since the biggest reason for why Charlie's town could not be in the UK, let alone the Ward of Hainault, is the significant amount of American influence in the town according to some, it was interesting to see the results of a survey conducted in the London area a few years ago. The British data-analytics firm YouGov published the results of a survey in which they asked London area residents what type of cuisine they preferred, and while the results as a whole say a lot about this great city, the results from the East London and Essex region, which includes the London Borough of Redbridge, indicate that the region's resident's second favorite cuisine is none other than American food.

Now, something like this makes sense since the reason why this region is the only one in the London area with a propensity for American food is because there is a local American community in a town on the edge of Greater London who many most likely run restaurants where they make the food of their native land, just like Grandma used to make. A town which also just so happens to be home to the largest Chocolate factory in the world, and on top of that, a factory that happens to be owned by an American of all things. Now, as to why real world East Londoners who live in a world where Burtonville does not exist have a penchant for American food, I could not tell you why.

And as we wrap up this section, I cannot end this without pointing out this last detail concerning both the film and the real world that only goes to prove that Charlie's town is in the Ward of Hainault. The opening scene of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is all about introducing the audience to a candymaking process only the twisted mind of Willy Wonka could come up with and it all ends with boxes full of said candy labeled, loaded onto the iconic red Wonka trucks and driven off the factory grounds and onto their next destination, which for all those not labeled LONDON, for obvious reasons, must be the airport. Now, there are six airports in the London area, but only one of these had flights to all of the locations that we know Wonka Bars were destined to after they left the factory during the events of the film, London's largest and main international airport, Heathrow Airport.

Sidebar #11.1: Now, we know for a fact that Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory ships Wonka Bars to four other locations besides London, with those being:

New York City, US

Cairo, Egypt

Tokyo, Japan

and Bangkok, Thailand. We do not get a good glimpse of boxes with the BANGKOK label on them in the film, but be do know that a prop DESTINATION sticker was made for the southeast Asian city thanks to a film memorabilia collector taking a picture of their collectable prop and posting it online.

And thanks to Wikipedia edits from January 2005, we can also see that for the most part one airline fulfilled most of Wonka's transportation needs, British Airways, which just so happens to be based out of Heathrow Airport.

This old Wikipedia post reveals that the Wonka Bars heading to the US and Egypt flew to John F. Kennedy International Airport and Cairo International Airport respectively on British Airways planes departing from Terminal 4 whereas those heading to Japan flew to Narita International Airport out of Terminal 1.

While it makes sense that Wonka Worldwide, Inc. and British Airways would craft an exclusive transportation deal together, seeing as both companies would be the face of the United Kingdom in the world of air transportation and confectionary globally, surprisingly, British Airways did not offer flights to every location Willy Wonka needed his candies to get to.

The most notable example of this is Bangkok, Thailand, in which the archived Wikipedia page says was not served by British Airways back in 2005. Instead, air travel from Heathrow to Don Mueang International Airport was managed by Thai Airways International out of Terminal 3.

It should also be mentioned that there were 10 red Wonka Trucks leaving the courtyard at the beginning of the film

and on top of that, it appears that each truck is filled with boxes heading to the same destination, which makes sense as it would save the Airport crewmembers time from having to sort the boxes into different piles before loading them onto the plane headed to their labeled destination.

All of this is to say there are most likely many other locations Willy Wonka's candies get flown to besides the five locations we already know about, such as locations in Latin America, Sub-Saharan Africa and mainland Europe, as his candies are supposed to be known worldwide. And by looking through the destinations that British Airways offered in 2005, I am certain that well over 90% of all transportation of Wonka candies out of the UK is done through British Airways, especially once they started offering flights to Bangkok years later.

That’s it for Part 12, click here for Part 13 when we delve into the area where Charlie’s town would be located and discover how the local politics and makeup of the region reflect on the rest of the country.

Also, if you have better quality images of the scenes from the film I included in this post, feel free to share them with me so that I may replace the ones I used to improve the experience for the reader.

[atlanticcanada]

'This is going to be a prolonged operation': Halifax-area wildfire grows to 837 hectares

Officials say the wildfire burning in the Upper Tantallon, N.S., area has grown to 837 hectares.

Dave Steeves, with Nova Scotia’s Department of Natural Resources and Renewables, provided an update on the fire Wednesday morning along with Halifax Fire deputy chief David Meldrum.

Steeves attributes the fire growth -- of about 49 hectares -- to Tuesday’s fire behaviour and more accurate mapping.

“It’s not something that we didn’t foresee happening yesterday, with the weather that we had. And we were fortunate with the hard work of the firefighters on the ground that we were able to hold it to where we did.”

He says Wednesday could be another difficult, dangerous day, with winds gusting up to 25 kilometers out of the southwest and low humidity at around 20 per cent.

“When our relative humidity levels get close to the forecasted temperature of today, that’s a phenomenon of what we call crossover and the phenomenon of crossover is an indicator of extreme fire behaviour.”

Meldrum says approximately 100 firefighters will work on hotspots and flare ups Wednesday, including two units from Charlottetown.

He also said he can’t speculate as to when the fire will be under control or when evacuation zones will change to allow people to return to their homes.

“I would encourage all of us to be ready for a long fire fight. We’ve got a lot of dry weather days ahead, we’ve got low humidity forecasted. This is going to be a prolonged operation.”

He describes the site of the fire as a “tragedy” with wide-spread destruction.

“And, at the same time, there is a level of randomness that comes with wildfires when they hit the urban interface, where people live. So there are properties that are unharmed in close proximity to properties that are destroyed. It’s terrible to see – these are people’s homes, this is a community.”

Steeves stressed that fire officials are not keeping residents out of their homes because they want to.

“This is to keep people alive. This is a very dangerous situation. It’s changing every moment, with wind, with fuels, with the lay of the land, how the sun is heating the fuels – everything is constantly evolving,” he said.

“We have to take the safest route for the citizens that we are here serve and if that is keeping them at bay a little bit longer until we can ensure the environment is safe for them to return, that’s what we have to do. It’s not what we want to do, it’s what we have to do.”

EVACUATION ORDERS

Evacuation orders remain in place for residents in the following communities:

Westwood subdivision, Upper Tantallon

Whitehills subdivision, Hammonds Plains

Highland Park subdivision, Yankeetown

Haliburton Hills

Pockwock Road

Glen Arbour

Lucasville Road to Sackville Drive

Maplewood

Voyageur Way

St George Boulevard, including all side streets

McCabe Lake area

Indigo Shores

Pre-evacuation notices are also in place for a separate fire in the Bedford, N.S., area.

EVACUATION CENTRE

The Canada Games Centre evacuation centre at 26 Thomas Raddall Drive in Halifax is open until further notice.

Nova Scotia Health’s mobility primary care clinic is hosting another drop-in clinic at the centre until 5 p.m.

The Insurance Bureau of Canada and seven major insurance companies will be available to speak with affected residents at the centre until 5 p.m.

They will also be at the Black Point and Area Community Centre until noon.

COMFORT CENTRES

Black Point and Area Community Centre at 8579 St Margarets Bay Rd. reopened at 8 a.m. and will close at 9 p.m.

Beaver Bank Kinsac Community Centre at 1583 Beaver Bank Rd. reopened at 9 a.m. and close at 7 p.m.

SCHOOLS

The Halifax Regional Centre for Education says the following schools are closed Wednesday due to wildfires and evacuations:

Bay View High School

Tantallon Junior Elementary

Tantallon Senior Elementary

Five Bridges Junior High

St. Margaret’s Bay Elementary

Kingswood Elementary

Hammonds Plains Consolidated

Madeline Symonds Middle School

Charles P. Allen High School

Basinview Drive Community School

Bedford South School

Harry R. Hamilton Elementary

Millwood Elementary

Millwood High School

Sackville Heights Elementary

Sackville Heights Junior High

POWER

As of 9 a.m. Wednesday, more than 3,000 Nova Scotia Power customers in the Upper Tantallon and Hammonds Plains areas are without electricity.

FIRE WEBPAGE

The Nova Scotia government continues to update a new webpage with the latest emergency alerts and resource information about fires in the province.

For more Nova Scotia news, visit our dedicated provincial page.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/pIBQlrG

[kimboo-york]

3/30/2023 - Thursday

I slept in very late today, which Keely was very generous to allow. She was not feeling to good herself, I don’t think. Hazards of old age for the both of us, I suspect! As I walked her up toward Los Robles subdivision I saw the morning sun on this amalgamation of utility wires. Longtime readers know I have a fascination with utility poles like this: They are so representative of “20th century…

[vander-affectionate]

intrusion

it's not really a disturbance if you both enjoy it, is it?

warnings: minors/ageless blogs do not interact or you will be blocked, nudity (in general plus photos sent to vander), smut, fluff things, maybe dilf vander, ceo!vander, assistant!reader, boss x secretary

a/n: thank you for all the support and nice messages guys, there's more where this came from

received 3:49pm: Image Attachment

It’s late in the afternoon and Vander’s stuck in this conference room listening to Sevika go on about change and negotiating with a subdivision - namely Silco’s division - to strengthen this one. It’s unnecessary. A song he’s heard before and your name gently stirs his phone to life in his pocket.

received 3:40pm: i miss you :(

received 3:41pm: come home already?

He nearly grins. Vander can hear that honeyed tone in his ears. He can still hear you from this morning, insisting he stay with you for the day or go in late to work. He almost wishes he listened after all this drivel all morning.

“Vee.” You murmur, watching him draw his belt around his hips and fiddle with the buckle. A stinging ache on your ass makes your leg twitch from underneath these lukewarm sheets, much colder since Vander had gotten up to get ready for work.

He’s missing his shirt. Tufts of hair on his chest and your eyes rake over the corded muscle of his arms to his hands at his hips. Your eyes flit up to him and he shoots you a smile.

“Don’t look at me like that.” he muses, a brow furrowing as his lips curl upwards.

Your cheek is pressed to his pillow and he’s not sure if you know about your habit of unfurling from your ball in your sleep to roll onto his side in search of him - his heart swells whenever he notices it. How can he be sure when you beam at him like that?

“Like what?” Your voice is still thick from sleep, a little hoarse. It always is in the morning, but this one, he can hear the mischief in your voice.

Vander says nothing. He smiles as he picks up a shirt that’s hung over a chair and all you have to do to see him is turn your head, feeling the warmth of the pillow beneath your cheek as you watch him.

The right arm goes in first and you breathe out a heavy breath in your lungs when you watch his muscles stretch to bring the shirt over his shoulders. It’s crisp, but only from the dry cleaners. (He could never get those creases that slick even if he wanted to) and you laugh from it, making him peer over his shoulder to look at you.

You’re bare. Skin exposed and brilliantly radiant underneath the sun that’s dripping it’s syrupy light over the walls. It’s enough to make him stop altogether. His breath gets caught in his throat when you stretch still as you’re lying down and his eyes follow down your back to where the lows of your back disappears into the sheets that flow over you and bunch at your waist.

“Like what, Vander?”

The words are smooth this time, as if the sound of your voice doesn’t beckon him regardless.

“Come here.”

His legs feel weak. “Love-”

“I’ll behave.” you murmur as if it’s a secret between the two of you. “Please.”

Like hell you behaved. You didn’t let him leave this morning until he’d folded you over and pumped you full until you’d have his spend dripping down your legs, like he hadn’t done just that last night.

He knows what he’s in for when his phone stirs to life in his pocket. And stirs something else when he remembers this morning.

Grayson shoots him a warning look: pay attention.

Vander gives a sigh, a subtle nod on his features confirms his compliance as he opens up the attachment you sent him. His breath catches.

The picture’s taken in his study. It's a timed photo.

You’re kneeling in his leather swivel chair, dwarfed by it and the white button up he’d worn in light of the Medarda’s carouse the two of you attended last night. Only two buttons on the shirt are clasped and the rest is left open so that he gets a vague glimpse of the swell of your breasts and, between your parted legs, the dewy puddle of cream leaking onto it. One hand is holding the end of the shirt so it parts just right, so that you’re showcasing the curve of your legs and every bruise, bite, and crescent from your lovemaking. The other is pressed against the desk, a ploy to keep you from falling like the chair won’t already do that with the lock on its under side.

sent 3:55pm: don’t touch what doesn’t belong to you

Silco catches his eye and Vander says nothing, merely rubbing his palm over the hardness against his thigh as Silco seats himself and allows Benzo to take over, he’s wrapping up the meeting and has little to say on all the ‘pressing’ matters Silco brought up.

His phone vibrates softly in his hand and he’s obligated to look.

received 3:56pm: you’re not here so my options are limited.

Vander bites back a scoff. Cheeky little-

“Vander?”

He looks up and all eyes are on him. Shit. This hasn’t happened in a while.

“Nothing to add?”

Vander furrows his brows, a smart decision as he leans forward onto the table, “Nothing outside of the usual.” he says, standing and inhaling. It makes him look like a bear from how wide his body expands before he’s relaxing back to a fraction of what he was just before.

He clearly looks contemplative, like he’s got some master plan for it all and he does.

Your legs are hitched over his elbows and his pace is relentless as your ass hangs off the desk. Vander’s got his face buried in your neck, kissing open mouthed against your skin that’s sweet like it captured the honeyed rays that filtered into the room from this morning. Your fingers claw at his arms with the ache of his cock plunging against your sweet spot again and again.

“S-So, so good…” you warble as Vander takes your hips and brings them flush against him and his balls press against your ass, a promise that he’ll fill you up. You clench around him at the thought.

“Didn’t fill you up enough this morning, did I?” he jests in your ear, a rasp that makes you shudder and move with him like he’s not already using you like a cocksleeve. “My pretty little assistant’s supposed to be helping me-” A sharp slap to your already sore ass makes you shriek, fingers digging into Vander’s arms more. “But you need to be filled up every minute.”

Every thrust feels like it’s in your stomach and tough luck trying not to make any noise, because he’s forcing moans and these pitched gasps that are making him throb.

“I- ugh, m’cum- ming-” you hiccup quietly against his cheek before you throw your head back as his pace gets more brutal. “Oh fuck, cumming!”

Vander empties himself inside of you with a few slow thrusts, but they’re still punishing. Your lips are still wrapped around his cock as white pants at his reddening length. It stings to keep thrusting and he braces a hand on your lower back, the other on your hip keeps you flush against him so nothing drips out of you when he sits in the chair of his office.

He massages the cheeks, sore from his hands gripping and spanking them, courtesy of your photoshoot from earlier.

“You’re going to ride me til your legs give out. That alright, love?”

Your hands grip his shoulders and your voice rasps for an entirely different reason now that he’s buried to the hilt inside of your fluttering walls. “But Vander-”

“Till your legs give out.” he reassures as if you won’t be screaming for his everyone on his payroll to hear outside of this door. He kisses your sternum, your collar, your neck, then your lips. “This is your punishment and you’ll be taking it since my baby couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

You're sighing like you haven’t been rolling your hips this entire time.

He presses his lips to your jaw, smiling against your skin when your head tips back, “Good girl.”