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zoesblogsposts · 8 months

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o 625 words to know in your target language o

There is a really interesting blog called "Fluent Forever" that aids foreign language learners in tricks, tips and techniques to guide them to achieving fluency "quickly" and efficiently. One of the tricks is to learn these 625 vocab words in your target language, that way you have a basis to start delving into grammar with ease as you can understand a lot of vocab right off the bat. Plus this list of words are common across the world and will aid you in whatever language you are learning. Here is the list in thematic order

• Animal: dog, cat, fish, bird, cow, pig, mouse, horse, wing, animal

• Transportation: train, plane, car, truck, bicycle, bus, boat, ship, tire, gasoline, engine, (train) ticket, transportation

• Location: city, house, apartment, street/road, airport, train station, bridge hotel, restaurant, farm, court, school, office, room, town, university, club, bar, park, camp, store/shop, theater, library, hospital, church, market, country (USA,

France, etc.), building, ground, space (outer space), bank, location

• Clothing: hat, dress, suit, skirt, shirt, T-shirt, pants, shoes, pocket, coat, stain, clothing

• Color: red, green, blue (light/dark), yellow, brown, pink, orange, black, white, gray, color

• People: son, daughter, mother, father, parent (= mother/father), baby, man, woman, brother, sister, family, grandfather, grandmother, husband, wife, king, queen, president, neighbor, boy, girl, child (= boy/girl), adult (= man/woman), human (# animal), friend (Add a friend's name), victim, player, fan, crowd, person

• Job: Teacher, student, lawyer, doctor, patient, waiter, secretary, priest, police, army, soldier, artist, author, manager, reporter, actor, job

• Society: religion, heaven, hell, death, medicine, money, dollar, bill, marriage, wedding, team, race (ethnicity), sex (the act), sex (gender), murder, prison, technology, energy, war, peace, attack, election, magazine, newspaper, poison, gun, sport, race (sport), exercise, ball, game, price, contract, drug, sign, science, God

• Art. band, song, instrument (musical), music, movie, art

• Beverages: coffee, tea, wine, beer, juice, water, milk, beverage

• Food: egg, cheese, bread, soup, cake, chicken, pork, beef, apple, banana orange, lemon, corn, rice, oil, seed, knife, spoon, fork, plate, cup, breakfast, lunch, dinner, sugar, salt, bottle, food

• Home: table, chair, bed, dream, window, door, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, pencil, pen, photograph, soap, book, page, key, paint, letter, note, wall, paper, floor, ceiling, roof, pool, lock, telephone, garden, yard, needle, bag, box, gift, card, ring, tool

• Electronics: clock, lamp, fan, cell phone, network, computer, program (computer), laptop, screen, camera, television, radio

• Body: head, neck, face, beard, hair, eye, mouth, lip, nose, tooth, ear, tear (drop), tongue, back, toe, finger, foot, hand, leg, arm, shoulder, heart, blood, brain, knee, sweat, disease, bone, voice, skin, body

• Nature: sea, ocean, river, mountain, rain, snow, tree, sun, moon, world, Earth, forest, sky, plant, wind, soil/earth, flower, valley, root, lake, star, grass, leaf, air, sand, beach, wave, fire, ice, island, hill, heat, nature

• Materials: glass, metal, plastic, wood, stone, diamond, clay, dust, gold, copper, silver, material

• Math/Measurements: meter, centimeter, kilogram, inch, foot, pound, half, circle, square, temperature, date, weight, edge, corner

• Misc Nouns: map, dot, consonant, vowel, light, sound, yes, no, piece, pain, injury, hole, image, pattern, noun, verb, adjective

• Directions: top, bottom, side, front, back, outside, inside, up, down, left, right, straight, north, south, east, west, direction

• Seasons: Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, season

• Numbers: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 21, 22, 30, 31, 32, 40, 41, 42, 50, 51, 52, 60, 61, 62, 70, 71, 72, 80, 81, 82, 90, 91, 92, 100, 101, 102, 110, 111, 1000, 1001, 10000, 100000, million, billion, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, number

• Months: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December

• Days of the week: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday

• Time: year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second, morning, afternoon, evening, night, time

• Verbs: work, play, walk, run, drive, fly, swim, go, stop, follow, think, speak/say, eat, drink, kill, die, smile, laugh, cry, buy, pay, sell, shoot(a gun), learn, jump, smell, hear (a sound), listen (music), taste, touch, see (a bird), watch (TV), kiss, burn, melt, dig, explode, sit, stand, love, pass by, cut, fight, lie down, dance, sleep, wake up, sing, count, marry, pray, win, lose, mix/stir, bend, wash, cook, open, close, write, call, turn, build, teach, grow, draw, feed, catch, throw, clean, find, fall, push, pull, carry, break, wear, hang, shake, sign, beat, lift

• Adjectives: long, short (long), tall, short (vs tall), wide, narrow, big/large, small/little, slow, fast, hot, cold, warm, cool, new, old (new), young, old (young), weak, dead, alive, heavy, light (heavy), dark, light (dark), nuclear, famous

#second language #language #learning #rory gilmore #smart #tips

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yespolkadotkitty · 2 years

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would you write a sweet drabble with my fave cowboy Rhett? I'm having a DAY.

Of course!

Everything

Words: 786 ~ Pairing: Rhett Abbott x female reader ~ Content: Fluff. Kisses, Rhett cooks, stargazing.

Thanking @hederasgarden for the beta and encouragement! ~ Shoutout to @a-reader-and-a-writer for using Cowboy Law in her fantastic fic of the same name, so I could reference it here!!

------

The night Rhett invites you to dinner, he warns you with a sheepish smile that he only really cooks two things. Steak, and steak and eggs.

You opt for the steak. When you arrive at the ranch house, it’s quiet. Everyone else is out - Amy at a sleepover, Cece and Royal have gone to a hotel for the first time in a thousand years, as it’s the anniversary of their first date, and Perry’s bunking in the barn a mile down the track.

“Perry sleeping away at your request?” you ask Rhett.

He turns from seasoning the steaks, smiling slightly. “Maybe.”

You sit at the table and watch him work. He has great hands. Wide palms, long fingers. A little scarred from ranch work and bull riding.

He moves to the fridge and takes out a bag of salad, shakes it into a bowl.

“Fancy,” you tease.

He huffs, but he’s smiling. “This is fancy, for me. Even put rosemary from the garden in the pan. You want a drink? We got wine, beer, and iced tea.”

You ask for iced tea and he pours it into a glass. Your fingers brush as he hands it to you, and you meet his gaze for a second. His eyes are so blue, it’s unreal.

He drops a small pat of butter into the seasoned, cast iron skillet, and it sizzles. You let yourself trace the line of his back and shoulders with your eyes as he cooks. The soft grey button-down looks good on him.

“You like it rare?”

“Of course. My daddy’d be ashamed if I asked for it well done.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs over his shoulder and the low register of his voice goes right to your core.

Before long the steaks are done and Rhett slides a plate in front of you, filled with sirloin steak and a pile of salad. It even has a dressing on it.

You lift your fork. “I bet you make this salad for all the girls you bring home.”

The corner of his mouth tugs up. “You’re the first, actually,” he says softly, and sips his beer.

Butterflies, the good kind, fill your stomach.

You wouldn’t have expected to be Rhett Abbott’s first anything.

“I don’t know what to say.”

He watches you for a moment. “You don’t have to say anythin’. I just like being with you.”

And it’s true, you realise. He often seeks you out, even if you only sit under a tree together and shoot the breeze. At first you thought perhaps he was… bored? Seeking a friend? But then he caught your hand while you walked through a cornfield at dusk, and when you met his gaze he seemed all shrouded in gold by the twilight, and you knew if he asked you just about anything, you’d say yes.

So here you are.

You finish the excellent steak.

“Come out to the porch swing with me?” Rhett asks.

You follow him out on to the decking. The stars are winking into being, one by one, on the darkening blanket of the sky.

Rhett sits down and pats the space beside him, and you settle in. When he wraps his arm around you, and softly asks, “ This okay?” you about melt.

“It’s really okay.” You nestle in, rest your head on his shoulder.

His fingers play with the ends of your hair idly. “Thought about this some. Just sittin’ with you. Right here. Sky full of stars, too.”

“A secret romantic!” You gasp, teasingly.

In response Rhett uses his other hand to tilt your chin up. His gaze flits between your eyes and your mouth, and he must find what he’s looking for, because he kisses you then, a butterfly-wing soft brush of his lips over yours. It’s sweet and tender and perfect, and he tastes crisp, like the first bite of a summer apple, full of promise and pleasure.

You thread a hand into his thick, soft hair and he makes a little mmm sound of approval in his throat.

Eventually after a lot more kisses, he whispers, “Guess I better expand my cookin’ repertoire.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because..” he drops a kiss on your nose. “I want to keep invitin’ you over to dinner.”

You spend the entire evening out on the swing, kissing and talking and laughing, and when Rhett finally drives you home, he sees you to your door like a true gentleman.

When he says goodnight, he holds you close like something precious, something he never wants to be without again.

When you wake up in the morning, there’s a bunch of wildflowers on your doorstep, along with his favourite brown stetson.

And you know that when a cowboy gives a woman his hat, it means….

Everything.

-------

People who may like this @a-reader-and-a-writer @lorecraft @babblydrabbly @skvatnavle @green-socks @wildbornsiren @nerdysuperchick

Please DM or ask to be tagged, or untagged!

#rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott x female reader #outer range #lewis pullman #askbox fic #fluff

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undefeatednils · 2 years

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"Bold" Tag Game

I got tagged by @katecaru, thank you ^^

Rules: bold what you prefer

Rules: Bold the statements that apply to you

AIR: I have small hands • I love the night sky • I watch small animals and birds when I pass them by • I drink herbal tea • I wake to see dawn • The smell of dust is comforting • I’m valued for being wise • I prefer books to music • I meditate • I find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE: I don’t have straight hair • I like to wear ripped jeans and overalls pants & leggings • I play an organized sport • I love cats • I am not afraid of adventure • I love to talk to strangers • I always try new foods • I enjoy road trips • Summer is my favorite season • My radio is always playing

WATER: I wear bracelets on my wrists • I love the bustle of the city • I have more than one set of piercings • I read poetry • I love the sound of a thunderstorm • I want to travel the world • I sleep past midnight most days • I love dimly lit diners and fluorescent signs • I rewatch kids’ shows out of nostalgia • I see emotions in colors not words

EARTH: I wear glasses • I enjoy doing the laundry • I am a vegetarian or vegan • I have an excellent sense of time • My humor is very cheerful • I am a valued adviser to my friends • I believe in true love • I love the chill of mountain air • I’m always listening to music • I am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER: I go without makeup in my daily life • I make my own artwork • I keep on track of my tasks and time • I always know true north • I see beauty in everything • I can always smell flowers • I smile at everyone I pass by • I always fear history repeating itself • I have recovered from a mental disorder • I can love unconditionally

I tag... Whoever wants to do this! Feel free to tag me if this post has inspired you to do this yourself!

Also: @katecaru I will do the song thing later ^^ Space these things out a bit!

#tag game #katecaru

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doctorlaelia-ffxiv · 3 years

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never let you go - part 2.

[[ read part one >here!< @benes-diction for mentions of the Beanies! ]]

I allowed Cato Lucretius to start officially courting me come spring in Garlemald... which doesn’t mean much, and does little to make dents in the snow, but it still felt warmer, somehow. His presence was warm. At times, he was like the soft glow of a candle in a dark room, providing a sense of safety and comfort. Other times, he glowed so brightly that I thought that he might be a supernova, too big for this world altogether.

To say that I was in love with him would be a difficult thing. I was very fond of him, for a while. We got along tremendously well, and he was good at making me laugh. Our honeymoon period was sweet, and friends sighed over what a lovely pair we were, and I agreed with them. Cato Lucretius was a perfectly amiable, enjoyable sort of man to be around, who gave excellent kisses and was an attentive sort of lover, who could provide conversation that stimulated the mind and be a quiet place to rest, too.

At least, at first. All that glitters is not gold. Sometimes it’s just a very pretty plating put over something rusty.

In the summer, Cato Lucretius invited me to move into his apartment on the outskirts of the university we both attended. He was a literature major with a schedule that was far less packed than mine, considering I was still taking classes while conducting my residency at the hospital to enter into neurosurgery . But it worked, I suppose. He was something of a “house boyfriend,” you could call it. He made meals and kept our shared space clean, ran hot baths when I had a long day at work, would call me on the nights I couldn’t return. And he made a point of bringing me on dates, where we were able to make time for it, to expensive restaurants and pretty museums and lush greenhouses and towering libraries.

Being old money from Garlemald came with a bit of status that Cato Lucretius frequently enjoyed. He liked the balls and the parties, and he enjoyed the luxuries of the finest foods and wines, and he liked to talk, very much, about the plights of our countrymen in a senseless war for a government that only wanted dominion rather than peace... and his words were pretty. They were nice to listen to. He could be fantastically passionate about things, he could grab a whole room’s attention with his vivacity and silver tongue, and I enjoyed listening to him on those summer evenings where the world felt like it belonged to us.

For the first time in a long time, I was happy. I was twenty and finishing the last leg of my residency - the youngest in generations in Garlemald to achieve such a high position so quickly. It was an honor. It was a feat, of countless sleepless nights and many frustrated tears and many, many joyous victories. And Cato Lucretius would stay up with me, during the time we were together, to celebrate or to mourn, respectively. And then things just... started to feel like they were shifting. I remember it starting to feel different in the autumn.

The warmth was starting to fade, like it was chasing the seasons.

“You’re brilliant,” Cato Lucretius would tell me as he smiled, as he brushed my hair from my forehead as I nursed a glass of something strong on a rare day off. “You’re the smartest person on this star, Laelia.”

He said it so frequently. At first, I thought it was sweet. I liked being acknowledged for my accomplishments more than my looks. It didn’t feel like he looked at me like a piece of meat. To him, I was his equal - more than his equal. And that, maybe, was the problem. Cato Lucretius was putting me on a pedestal I didn’t try to get onto, and slowly... Slowly, but surely, it started to tarnish the way that he looked at me.

“You never have time for me.”

That was how it started. It caught me off guard, as we stood in the kitchen and made dinner together. He was leaning against the counter and staring at the floor as he sipped from his whiskey glass, one hand braced behind him with the sleeves of his red sweater pushed up.

“I always try to make time for you,” I had told him, and I had frowned, because I was confused. I was... I am a person that grew up quickly. There were intricacies in people’s words and meanings that I wasn’t able to pick up on at the age of twenty, when my whole life had been dedicated to how brain functions but not, exactly, the emotions that run through them, too.

“But it never works out, does it?” Cato Lucretius shot back, looking at me with pained and angry eyes. “When’s the last time we got to go out? You said you would come with me to my colleague’s party the other night. And you forgot, didn’t you?”

Accusation after accusation as I stood there with a ladle in my hand and my lips parted, because yes. Yes, I had forgotten. But I hadn’t meant to. The day he was referencing was nonstop. I hadn’t even been able to come back to the apartment between surgeries. Older, wiser me would have been able to do something, to put this man in his place. Twenty year old Laelia just wasn’t sure what was happening or what she had done to make him so angry.

“Yes,” she had said, and that’s what it feels like, as I think about this turning point of a night now - like I’m watching in third person. “Yes, I forgot, but... but I told you that I wasn’t able to leave, Cato. I’m very sorry, I didn’t realize that it was so important to you, but--”

“I’m making a big deal out of it, aren’t I?” And just as quickly as he had been angry, he was smiling at me, and I felt... unsettled, in a word. “I’m sorry, Laelia. Forgive me. I suppose I must have had a bad day today.”

Whiplash. That was the day it started - or, at least, the day I began to notice it starting. Cato Lucretius was changing in how he spoke to me, in how he looked at me, and so was the regard he held me in. What was once my ‘brilliance’ was my ‘cockiness,’ and what was my dedication to my work was a force driving us apart, no matter how hard I tried to yield to his requests.

And all the while, this man was starting to fail his classes. Professors were sending back essays with bundles of criticism. He was slipping up, and the golden boy with the flawless smile that I met at the ball in the winter was now beginning to lose his gentleness and his geniality, unless he was drinking. And when he drank, all the venom he felt for me would come spewing out.

“You think you’re so smart,” he would sneer as he slouched in his chair by the fire. “You made a big splash, and now you think you’re too good for anyone, don’t you? What’s going on that has you out at all hours? Are you having an affair?”

“That’s enough,” I had snapped, slamming my glass down on the counter. He raised his voice at me, and I raised mine. Our fights became infamous in the apartment building. I had never been the type to shout. That wasn’t the way to get a point across, but no one infuriated - and hurt me - like Cato Lucretius did. He made my ice turn to fire, my quiet and composed way of dealing with things seem unhinged and furious.

And it was becoming clearer and clearer that any support he had for the Populares was... surface level. Certainly, he was prepared to speak out against the oppressive government, but... I have to wonder if that’s because it was the popular opinion amongst our circle. He clung to his status and the wealth of his parents in a desperate sort of way. I often wonder how much of anything he spoke passionately about that he really meant, and how much of it was manipulation to make him look good. I fear that the answer would be troubling and disheartening both.

A warm, sunlit garden that we had planted in the spring was starting to die come the fall. Our honeymoon period was over, and I didn’t know what to do.

Many times, Cato Lucretius would coerce me into bed, to have sex that was angry and rough, that screamed that we hated each other in those moments. I never really said ‘yes.’ I just gave in to his nagging, to make him be quiet, to stop accusing me of affairs that didn’t exist.

“If you loved me...”

He loved that one. ‘If you loved me, you’ll sleep with me. If you loved me, you’d make more time. If you loved me, you would stop asking me where I go late at night.’ ‘If I have to trust you, don’t you have to trust me?’

The difference is that I never came home smelling of someone else’s perfume or cologne like he did, or with a wine that he didn’t drink still clinging to my lips.

Giving up Cato Lucretius was difficult. He was nowhere near as creatively gifted as he wanted to be, and if I’m being honest with myself, I have to wonder if the vague similarities he shared with my Cato are what made me stay. They wrote, and they were both like light - even if Cato Lucretius’ light was rapidly fading - and they both, at one time, made me feel safe.

I remember curling up on the bathroom floor and simply sobbing into my arms, overcome with a grief that was too unbearable to speak aloud. More often than not, I would say Cato Lucretius’ name and think of Cato Benes - of the soldier boy who had paid the ultimate price, of the one in all of my dreams, who dried my tears when I slept and told me everything would be alright.

Often, as things got more difficult in my relationship, I dreamt of that farewell ball for Cato rem Benes. I dreamt it over and over again - arriving late and anonymous in a beautiful gown, and making him laugh, all with the knowledge of what was to come that I was forbidden to speak. And the dreams ended the same - me, forcing myself to leave Cato rem Benes alone on a balcony before collapsing in the gardens and being overcome with grief.

Those are the dreams I would wake from in tears, sometimes screaming my anguish, begging to please just bring me back to that night, so that I could tell him not to go, to plead and block him from his departure if I had to--

And it was easy to lie to Cato Lucretius about when I screamed the name ‘Cato,’ because I could tell him I was having nightmares of something terrible happening to him. But maybe part of him knew. Maybe a part of him had always known that my heart was never fully with him.

I still don’t think, though, that I deserved his cruelty for it. I was young, and inexperienced in so many things, and mourning the loss of someone who had so deeply impacted me as a young girl. Even seeing Cato rem Benes’ parents were difficult. Seeing Lucius in a hospital, or sitting and listening to one of Theodosia’s performances... I always kept up with them - quietly, and in the shadows, but I tried to. My heart broke to hear the stories of what Caius was becoming. I wept bitterly when Solina left, knowing how deeply the family hurt when their children hurt, knowing just how the loss of Cato rem Benes had affected him.

And there was a part of me that felt like it knew more, too, like... I could sense something in the future. Of course, I was a woman of science. Looking back, yes - in a strange way, and thanks to kami meddling, I did know. I knew the painful endings and the happy endings both, but to not be able to explain those feelings was often agonizing. And the more my relationship with Cato Lucretius began to fraction, the more I felt it.

The more I felt that something just hadn’t ended right, that a book that was meant to be closed had simply been paused.

The day I found his love letters from another woman beneath our bed and his collar stained with a coral lipstick that I wouldn’t wear came almost as a relief. Of course, it broke my heart. Spring had come around again, with a surprising melt in the snow. We had spent a year around each other, committed to each other - or, at least, one of us had been committed to the other. When I asked how long, just how long had he been betraying my trust, he was vague. When I asked how many times, he had simply shrugged, staring into the fire.

“How many hours were you too busy being brilliant to give me?”

“You’re casting yourself as dependent and lonely to get out of being accountable for being a dickhead,” I had told him, tossing the letters that he’d so obviously read over and over directly into the fire. “For being the worst of men.”

“We could try to fix this, Laelia,” he had said, running his hands over his face before standing up to face me, to try to reach out to me. “I messed up, darling. I messed up so badly, but if you give me another chance--”

“Haven’t you heard, Lucretius?” I asked him, smiling. “Goodness, I thought you would have, but... I simply just don’t have the time to give you that. I have very brilliant and much more important things to be doing than wasting my godsdamned time on this - you manipulative, lying, tiny pricked bastard.”

When I slammed that apartment door with a box of my things in my arms with that man crying like an infant, it was liberating. I was free of his cruelty and his coercion. I suppose I could thank him, though, for the beginnings of the spine that I became so famous for.

For the spine that Cato rem Benes will always love me for having. And Cato rem Benes is, was, and always will truly be spring - the true herald of new beginnings, of promises that the long winters would end into a blossoming, glowing new world.

#ffxiv rp #ff14 rp #writing #tw relationship abuse #sort of #?

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puckngrind · 4 years

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What’s In A Name: 10 - J. Toews

Chapter 10.

Where we left off: Bekah came to Chicago after the season and told Jon not only that she loved him too but that she took a sabbatical from work.

Warnings: smut, language

Word Count: 3,485

Series Masterlist ) Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

Changing.

“Rebekah your brain running on over drive woke me up.” Jon’s groggy voice surprised her.

“What!” Bekah almost yells. It was three in the morning and email from her boss asking her intentions on returning had caused Bekah to run a pro and con list in her head.

“Want to talk about it Baby?” Jon kissed her shoulder feeling the heat from the Arizona sun still radiating off her.

“No go back to bed you have training thing to do tomorrow morning then hiking.” Bekah moves her head back to capture his lips.

“It’s about work isn’t it?” Jon sits up.

“How did you...”. Bekah stammered out.

“Beks, I can count to three. Your sabbatical is three months long. It started mid April and July starts tomorrow. He probably wants to know if his brilliant marketing consultant is coming back or if he has to replace her. Yes?” Jon is now leaning against the head board looking down at Bekah.

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m thinking about. I swear you read my email or mind.” Bekah bites the inside of her cheek and sits up to lay her head on her boyfriend’s tan chest from the summer of jet setting.

“And you are torn? You aren’t going to hurt my feelings by saying yes, Babe.” Jon’s hand glides up and down her spine.

“Yes.” She breathes out.

“So let’s talk about it. Money is off the table. It shouldn’t be a determining factor because well, you haven’t gotten paid all summer and it hasn’t been an issue. So my first question, do you miss your job?” Jon feels Bekah tense under his touch. “Honestly.”

“No, I miss lunch with Rin but not my actual job.” Bekah realizes the last time she saw Brynn was when Jon surprised her in April by doing a joint birthday party. He rented out the entire movie theater and ran old movies from when the two were born. His parents and brother flew down from Winnipeg. The big surprise was that he even found a way to get Bekah’s family, Derek and Brynn to Chicago without her knowing. She couldn’t believe her eyes when they walked in. How he managed to pull it off she was still unsure of.

“Do you miss Columbus?” Jon braced himself this time for her answer knowing the city captured his girlfriend’s heart in a way no other place had.

“Not as much as I thought I would honestly but then again we’ve been moving around so much it is hard to miss a single place. Maybe when the season started...”

“You could go home whenever you wanted Beks. Long roadies, sick of me, whatever... you running my foundation would give you that freedom to make as many trips as you wanted.”

“Okay. I don’t hate that.” Bekah breathes in Jon’s smell and runs her hand down his abdomen.

“Last question, for now... if you went home would you miss me?” Jon bites his lip because saying that as calmly as he did took every ounce of media training he’s ever had. The silence was killing him. In the two and a half months since he picked up Bekah and she declared her love and sabbatical he realized he didn’t want to go back to the way life was without her by his side. He would never ask her to leave her life behind but he desperately wanted to start a life with her in Chicago.

“Yes Jon. I’d miss you.” Bekah whispered and he felt a tear on his chest.

“Beks, why are you crying?” He lifts her face up to see.

“Because I know the answer is I should quit my job. Let go of my lease and fully be with you.” She breathes out.

“Okay... so why the tears?” Jon smiles at her.

“Mixed emotions honestly. Happy tears about committing to this life with you but sad tears about leaving home behind.” Bekah sniffles.

“Sweetheart, I get that completely. When I left home it was hard as hell but I did it to be where I am today. And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t worried you leave me and going home.”

“Tae!” Bekah sits completely up and looks at him. “Seriously!”

“Well we are being honest here, right? I know you love me but it’s hard to leave home.” He feels the sting of a tear in his eyes and blinks them away.

“And you were what 15 when you did and I’m 30. Makes me seem ridiculous!” Bekah runs her thumb over his cheek. “I told him I would let him know by the end of the week. Now let’s try to sleep since your crazy ass wants to hike at lightning pace on your own damn holiday! Don’t you know your nation’s birthday is meant for hanging out on the lakes and day drinking?” Bekah laughs.

“You are dating the wrong Canadian if that’s how you want to spend the 1st Babe.” Jon laughs.

“Oh, I’m definitely dating the right one...” Bekah swings her leg up and over his body and captures his lips.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Jon pulls her in as the conversation comes to a halt.

Hiking with Jon got easier not because he slowed down but he was now aware he needed to take more breaks and take in the views as they climbed. By mid week, Jon was gone for almost the whole day checking in with his training team. He kissed the top of her head as he left and made her promise not to do anything irrational while he was gone. By lunch Bekah decided to FaceTime Brynn.

“Your tan is amazing and I don’t exactly see any lines there Bekah. Plus I don’t recognize this top.” Brynn jokes taking in the off the shoulder top Jon bought her while they were in Manitoba and sun kissed skin from a summer of beaches and lakes and now Sedona.

“He asked me what my plans were.” Bekah sips the iced coffee she finally mastered while her and Jon were in the Bahamas in May.

“Please tell me you told that hot ass man of yours you love him more than you love Columbus.” Brynn takes in Bekah’s face which scrunches up at her comment. “Oh my! Rebekah Pierce! Are you serious?”

“Rin, it’s not that simple.” Bekah replies.

“Let me guess, he told you that you could come home whenever you wanted because of his schedule during the season and you told him you would think about it?” Brynn’s feisty attitude noticeable even via FaceTime.

“Did you talk to Jon?” Bekah furrows her brow.

“No, I just know my best friend and if you think I’m going to let you make this horrible decision to leave the best thing that has ever happened to you for me and home, you friend would be delusional.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard him talking to his realtor about a condo on the Gold Coast the other day too.” Bekah recalls walking in on Jon and his look of being caught.

“Oh because his Lincoln Park mansion isn’t enough to start a life with you. Bekah... I’m gonna type out the resignation letter for you. That way you can jump all in on the Jonathan Toews Foundation and all his gardening stuff... plus, well, jump on Jonathan Toews too.” Brynn laughs as Bekah’s face turns red.

“Oh wow Rin.” Bekah rests her head on her fist and sighs. “You should see him with the kids. We did a school tour before we left Chicago. He’s really got a passion for this.” Bekah remembers their tour in May.

“And I’m still not hearing how Columbus is better? And friend, his passion for you is 1,000 times more than that program. I saw the pictures and I see the way he looks at you. There is absolutely no comparison.” Brynn smiles seeing the way her best friend’s face contorts with her truth bomb. The ladies hear the door.

“He’s back. I’ll talk to you later.” Bekah pulls her hand up to wave.

“Write the damn letter Bekah!” Brynn shouts before hanging up.

“How’s Brynn? Convince you to stay with me yet?” Jon’s sweaty lips dip down to kiss Bekah’s forehead.

“I swear you two talk.” Bekah looks up. “Oh, Honey. You are so so sweaty.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna shower, care to join me?” Jon winks at her and holds out his hand. She laughs but takes it.

“I love this shower.” Bekah states as she steps in. The waterfall shower with side jets felt amazing on her body after long hikes.

“Same but only because it’s easier to do this.” Jon pulls her body up and wraps Bekah’s legs around him. The unglazed rock like tile making it easier to pin her body to the wall without slipping. His lips attached to her neck as she moans out. Bekah’s hands running through his wet hair as she pulls up his body and slides down onto his length. Their lips meeting and his tongue asking permission to explore. Bekah gasping when Jon hits her g spot and doesn’t let up. Each climaxing quickly and in unison. Both panting for air as the waterfall splashes over their joined bodies. Jon slowly lowers Bekah down and grabs the shampoo without saying a word. Bekah rests her head on his chest while he massages the shampoo into a lather. He stands her up and grabs the loofah to wash her body peppering sweet kisses as the soap runs off. She returns the favor and giggles as he kisses her chest while he bends over in order for her to reach the crown of his head.

Jon leaves the shower to retrieve the towels wrapping Bekah up and patting herself dry. “So how can I help your decision Beks?” He questions while pulling a tank and some shorts on.

“What?” The earlier conversation not in Bekah’s head.

“About your job and life really. How can I help?” Jon looks down at her while she puts on her clothes.

“Want to just click send for me?” Bekah nods towards the open laptop. “I’ve written the email effectively quitting my position. I just haven’t actually sent it yet.” She runs her fingers through her hair.

“And what’s stopping you?” Jon swallows hard. Not knowing if he wants the answer.

“I mean, I know you can provide for me. I want to be with you and home and you already said I can have the best of both worlds with your job the way it is but Jon...” Bekah’s emotion catches in her throat.

Jon closes the space between them and holds her face in his hands. “But what Beks? What ever it is let’s talk about it.” He felt so close to having the one thing he’s been dreaming about forever.

“But I’ve been able to take care of myself since I was 18. I’ve not needed anyone to take care of me. If I don’t have a job I would NEED you to take care of me.” She closes her eyes in the realization that that was in fact exactly what she was holding on to and and not the whole leaving home aspect.

“So you need an income? Joint bank account? Control of something?” Jon slides his thumbs over her pink cheeks.

“I don’t know.” She was being honest. “I need you though.” Jon envelops her in his arms.

“I need you too Beks and if a joint account or an income from the foundation is what you need we will set it up as soon as we get back to Chicago tomorrow.” Jon kisses her head.

“Can you click send because I cannot?” Bekah whispered.

“Wanna do it together?” Bekah nodded and Jon lead her the desk. She sat on his lap and clicked opened the draft. “Ready?” His hand covered hers and then she clicks without Jon moving his fingers.

“There I did it. Officially an unemployed Chicagoan.” Bekah laughs and Jon joined her while kissing her shoulder.

The next few weeks Bekah packed up her old apartment with Jon. They shipped her clothes and a few items to Chicago and donated everything else. “What are we going to do with my car?” Bekah asks while the two were sitting at dinner with Brynn and Derek.

“We could keep it here for you if you want?” Brynn pipes up eyeing Derek in some silent couple conversation. “That way you have a vehicle when you are home to see your parents or whatever.”

“That actually sounds great.” Bekah eyes Jon who realized she didn’t need an additional car in Chicago but didn’t want to say anything. He simply nodded and smiled seeing how relaxed his girlfriend seemed since quitting. The conversation flowed over the evening. The girls discussing trips to Chicago and home while Derek and Jon talked shop. The next day Jon and Bekah went to see her parents before heading back to Chicago.

Mr. and Mrs. Pierce had lots of questions about their relationship, if they were moving too quickly, and logistics of Jon’s job. Bekah kind of expected them to since she knew her mom was chomping at the bit in Chicago for more answers. Keeping Jon essentially a secret from her family over the last few years was probably a mistake but she knew her mother wouldn’t approve of her lack of commitment especially to a man in the spotlight like Jon. By the end of dinner she felt Jon answered the questions well and her parents were interested in getting to know him. It was progress and she was thankful.

Bekah experienced her first Blackhawks conversation and enjoyed watching Jon in his element with his fans. Several even recognized her and asked for selfies which threw her for a loop but she obliged. August and September Jon was in training mode split between Winnipeg and Chicago. After the season ended the way it did, Jon was determined 2018-2019 would be the season. Bekah settled into a routine with his foundation and started getting to know some of Jon’s teammates and their significant others. She thought she would be overwhelmed but the way Jon was introducing her to his life made her more comfortable by the week.

Alyssa Saad and Bekah immediately hit it off. Jon was intentional with them being the first official introductions. Alyssa met Bekah in Columbus while Brandon played for the Blue Jackets. Jon and Bekah had the newly married couple over for dinner before training camp. As they sat down in the dining room Bekah’s eyebrows knit together. “What’s that look for Beks?” Jon questions.

“We never eat in here.” Bekah looks around.

“What do you mean?” Jon smirks.

“We have almost always eaten on the roof except for maybe Christmas with your family. Yes. Always on the roof.” Bekah sips her wine and looks at Jon.

“Oh Jonny’s roof set up is nice. I can see why!” Brandon pipes up.

“Yeah, that was on purpose.” Jon looks down at his plate then to Bekah who had a bewildered look on her face.

“Care to explain that, Jonny.” Bekah points her fork at him and circles it around.

“Well, the first time it wasn’t but pretty much every other meal was intentionally up there. To remind you how much you love the city and forgot about the massive ass kitchen that you physically tense up in every time you set foot in it.” Jon’s eyes float towards the kitchen then to their guests who are talking to each other through their looks then Bekah.

“Make me fall in love with the city eh?” Her midwestern accent sounding funny using a word that effortlessly slips off Jon’s tongue.

“Ope... yup.” Jon laughs.

“Hey, she’s not the only midwestern in this room Toews!” Brandon chuckles making everyone laugh. Dinner finished with more laughter and they said their goodbyes to the Saad’s.

“Alyssa told me the girls are planning on wearing their jackets for the home opener. And wants to make sure I don’t dodge out of any pictures.” Bekah wraps her arms around Jon as he finishes cleaning up in the sink.

“Yeah. I heard they were not happy I didn’t introduce you for the Preds series so you could be in the pic then. Makes sense she wants to include you.” Jon flips around and leans on the counter. His hands cup Bekah’s face. “You know you don’t have to do any of team things you don’t want to. None of it will hurt my feelings if you decide to take the less active role.” Jon’s hands wander down her body until his hands are under her ass. Jon hoists her up to sit on the counter behind her then kisses her lips tenderly.

“Thanks. For saying that Tae. I want to do all the things but maybe not all at once. Feels rushed.” Bekah moans as Jon sucks along her collarbone. “But clearly you have been playing a very long game there Mr. Toews. Intentionally eating up on the roof.” Bekah leans back as Jon presses his body between her legs.

“I figured if I alone wasn’t a solid selling point to spend more time here and you clearly feel overwhelmed in here...” Jon leans back to look at Bekah and motions to the kitchen. “Then why not use the selling point for why I bought this place to sell you on Chicago... and me.” Jon pulls Bekah’s body into him causing her to whimper.

“Jon, we make meals in here are we seriously going to have sex on your counter?” Bekah places her hand on his chest.

“I was thinking yes but fine... and our counter, Baby.” Jon pulls Bekah off the counter and steps out of his shorts and briefs while carrying her to the couch. Sitting down she feels his rock hard cock on her clothed core. “Better?” He whispers out while pulling her dress over her head and then pulling his shirt off. “Merde.” He whispers as his fingers make their way to her hips. Bekah slowly rocking her hips along his length.

“What Tae?” She breathes out then props herself up to look at him.

“I should have removed these before I picked you up”’ Jon pulls as the band of her panties.

“Oh! Please hold.” Bekah slinks out from under Jon and stands on the couch with her legs on either side of his frame then wiggles out of her underwear. Jon takes the proximity to her core to his advantage and licks up her folds while she is still standing causing Bekah’s legs to shake. “Tae.” She half cries and half moans out. He looks up with a look of satisfaction.

“What? My favorite dessert was right there I couldn’t help myself. C’mere.” Jon sees the red flashing on his girlfriend’s face as he lowers her onto his length. “Sorry if that startled you.” He whispers in her ear as she starts to rock her hips towards him.

“Felt good... this feels better.” She presses her lips to his and rocks harder causing Jon’s hips to jolt up. They build a rhythm together.

“Come on, My Love.” Jon whispers as he pulls Bekah’s body further into him. She feels her body clinch around Jon’s as he thrusts deep inside of her. Panting she lays her head on his shoulder and his hand comes up to run his fingers through her hair. He moves their bodies so he’s leaning against the back of the couch.

“Can we talk about the home opener and well all the home games?” Bekah whispers after catching her breath.

“If you want or we can go shower and talk in bed.” Jon kisses the top of her head.

“That’s fine I just don’t know if you expect me go to all what 30 some home games.” Bekah stands and reaches out her hands to help Jon up. He stands and pulls her into his now sweaty body.

“41 and no. You don’t have to but you can if you want. Completely up to you.” He dips down and kisses her while scooping her into his arms.

“I can walk Tae.” Bekah kicks her legs.

“Just call this an at home workout... m’kay?” Jon makes his way to the stairs.

“Fine fine. You win. Anything to help the training.” Bekah wraps her arms around him and giggles.

“I mean I have the best girl... so yeah I think I do win. Plus, I’m hoping this season will be the best with you by my side.” Jon kisses Bekah as she feels the heat return to her cheeks. “And I can still make you blush.” Jon kisses her cheek.

“You probably always well, Tae.” Bekah admits.

“I hope so.” His lips brush her rosy cheeks while he carries the love of his life upstairs.

#Jonathan Toews fic #what's in a name fic #WIAN #tazer me 19 #love a damn blackhawk 🤦🏻‍♀️#j toews fic #j toews #jonathan toews #happens in the 2018-2019 season

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currywaifu · 4 years

Text

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: damask rose 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: yukishiro azuma/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 1.2k words 𝐝𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨: ruri <3

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: azuma and reader make perfume together 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: this work is a part of the flower shop event, a series of unconnected flower shop AU one-shots

“Azuma, which one of these smell nicer?”

Atop the palm of your hand, two white petals of different varieties resided. He wasted no time plucking them from you one by one, drawing the delicate pads closer to his face as he caught a whiff of their scents. Expectedly, the manner of which his already lidded eyes drooped to a full close had more than just a semblance to the flowers that closed up at night. He was probably just closing his eyes to assemble his thoughts properly, but it was hard not to find the simple action gentle and graceful.

When his eyes opened again, his lips parted to let you know his thoughts.

“Go with the jasmine— it’ll work better with the peony than the magnolia,” Azuma said, taking hold of your hand once more as he gently returned the petals back to their original placements.

Oh, he was right!

“Honestly, I think you’re doing better at my job than I am!” you joked, unfortunately having to look away from him to jot down the different plants you were planning to distill and extract oil from.

First, the Base Notes— the scent that lingers the longest… perhaps something woodsy, like blond wood, maybe several drops of patchouli?

“Fufufu~ I just enjoy perfume is all,” Azuma replied with a chuckle, “and I’m quite pleased your store decided to start selling perfume as well~”

Next, the Middle Notes— the heart, the scent that makes itself known second. Jasmine, peony, maybe even water lily? To be decided later. 10-15 drops each.

“I’m glad you think so! We decided it was finally time to expand our horizons,” you explained, mulling over your options for Top Notes. They were what the customer would smell first, after all, and first impressions were incredibly important.

“It’s actually quite cheap to produce perfume, but the market pricing…” you trailed off, your mind going back to the task at hand. There were several fruits and leaves you could use for the Top Note, but what would match the rest of the components?

“It won’t be that interesting if you keep it purely floral. Maybe add tea leaves, or something like cranberry or lemon,” Azuma suddenly suggested.

Tea leaves to give it a fresh feeling, while the cranberry and lemon would give it a fruity scent… it’d work really well, actually, especially in this season.

You whipped your head around to meet his gaze, the upwards quirk of your lips matching with his own.

“Honestly, I’m so glad you visited me during work today,” you said, not failing to miss the way his eyes crinkled slightly. “Your opinions really helped me, as in I would’ve been stuck here choosing between two flowers for 20 minutes if it wasn’t for you.”

“I just wanted to see my lover hard at work, is all.”

You had expected him to chuckle in response, but instead his voice turns just a tad sultrier, a change quite small but just enough for you to pick up on, then he hits you with that “my lover” like… how was that fair to you at all? First and foremost, of all the terms you could use for a significant other he really just had to go with lover? Second— it was only three in the afternoon…

“Azuma,” honestly, you weren’t sure if you were going to attempt scolding him, or if you were just going to whine, or if you were going to try responding in kind. Luckily, your boyfriend decided to save you from making that decision by yourself.

“And I’m happy you let me make my own perfume, too,” he said, interrupting your current train of thought, “I’ve never tried it before, but it’s been fun so far~”

You looked at his side of the table. Since he was already making something instead of merely conceptualising, he had minimal choices for the scents— the tiny bottles of essential oils you’ve distilled from beforehand being his only choices.

Dragging your seat next to his, you began resting your head against his shoulder as soon as you plopped down on the chair to observe him. It’s not like you were slacking off or anything, you were just… gaining inspiration.

Hahaha, definitely.

“I can smell roses,” you said, the smell strong enough that you wouldn’t need to put it too close to your face, “it’s a bit different from cabbage roses… so these are damask then, right?”

He hummed, and you quietly watched him as he carefully put drops of bergamot into the spray bottle, making sure he’d put the correct amount only.

One, two, three… you counted in your head alongside every press his fingers made on the pipette’s rubber bulb, admiring his precision to somehow have exactly one drop of oil come out with each press.

On the eight count, he asked you a question, breaking the sudden quietude the two of you took part in.

“Do you have a name yet for your perfume?”

Normally people named their creations after its creation, right?

That didn’t stop you from pondering on the possibilities.

As you thought of ideas, you found yourself observing Azuma (as if you ever looked away from him in the first place) as he rationed how many tablespoons of vodka to add to the perfume. Without meaning to, your eyes went from watching him work to his silky hair, silvery hue not unlike the snow that kisses the land and blankets it during winter time;

the name “Snow Prince” flickered in your mind, and with a faint blush that rivalled the champagne pink of Azuma’s perfume bottle you pushed the thought away.

The scent was clearly leaning towards being a spring or summer day perfume, so wouldn’t a name like “snow prince” be incredibly misleading? Not to mention, this would probably be targeted towards women so having “prince” in the title would be weird, right?

It was becoming clear to you that having him in your workplace in all of his beauty, even piping in with his own opinions and helping you conceptualise, was oh so distracting. It was hard not to think of Azuma though, especially with you still resting against his shoulder.

You still can’t believe your first thought was to name a perfume after him though!

“Oh? It looks like a rose just bloomed beside me,” his comment only worsens your embarrassment, and before he could question why you were suddenly so flustered you steered the direction of the conversation elsewhere.

“W-what about you? Do you have a name for your perfume?”

He swivelled on his seat to face you, and you’re unable to read his facial expression as he quickly lowered his lips, now beside your ear.

Without warning his voice drops to a sultry whisper, the only word coming out of his throat being your name.

As soon as you realised what he meant, your brain could only handle so much before it began malfunctioning. As overused devices had a tendency to do, you found yourself heating up. Though you averted your eyes from the man, you knew he was watching his effect on you— most likely the reddening of your cheeks.

His soft but mischievous laughter did nothing to quell your current feelings.

“What should I do with you? Should I just admire you from afar? Should I pluck you from your garden? Or should I be a good gardener and make you nice and wet?”

“ thank you for your hard work today at the flower shop! here, feel free to take home this damask rose with you~ ”

【 rose 】 love and passion, trust and unity 【 damask rose 】 beauty and love. formally known as Rosa × damascena (a type of hybrid rose commonly used in perfumery).

“ maybe you’d like some more flowers before heading home? ”

-ˋˏflower shop masterlistˎˊ- | -ˋˏfic masterlistˎˊ-

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨: my friend gifted me some perfume recently. the bottle was golden and had rose embellishments. the yellow gold reminding me of azuma’s eyes + that one R story of his = this fic.

also, the perfume reader was conceptualising is based on Givenchy’s Ange ou Demon Le Secret (2009) and while vague, i based azuma’s perfume on Chloe’s Roses de Chloe, which is said to be delicate, graceful, and subtle.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i just meant to do a quick research about perfume but i got so invested that i spent two days researching- i watched two documentaries, learned how to make perfume, did research on the industry, on what common ingredients they used- now i have a bunch of random info about perfume taking up brain space.

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#azuma yukishiro #yukishiro azuma #a3! azuma #cafe: dessert menu #nathya's flower shop #a3! x reader #a3! imagines

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deathonyourtongue · 4 years

Note

Henry taking you on a carnival on your birthday hc?

Okay, so I took inspiration from the descriptions of the circus in The Night Circus, which is by far my favorite description of a carnival/circus I’ve ever read. Wish it existed in real life! The song I was listening to while writing this is Zoetrope by Joep Beving

You’ve told Henry a million times that theme parks and carnivals are a waste of money on you. You’re afraid of heights and falling, and that cancels out most, if not all of the rides. With most carnivals not having an extravagant budget for more complicated rides that use the latest technology, every time you’ve gone to one, you’ve been left wandering aimlessly, looking at games of chance that are impossible to beat, and food that is as overpriced as it is unhealthy. On a whole, you’d rather spend an evening watching a movie than watching others have fun.

Which is why, when Henry comes home one day with tickets to a carnival and an excited grin on his face, you can’t help but feel crestfallen. This is not how you’d planned on spending your anniversary with him and the fact that he’s forgotten your fears only makes you feel worse.

“Before you say anything, just know that I full well remember that rides are useless and games of chance are a waste of money. This is not that. This will be a night you’ll never forget.” He says, reading your body language in seconds, one hand lifted in defense of the barrage he knows is coming. Sighing, you stick out your hand, palm facing up, wanting to see the ticket. If you’re being dragged somewhere, you at least want to know where you’re going.

You’re surprised when the ticket placed in your hand has heft to it. Most tickets nowadays are the definition of cheap, with the print disappearing in weeks, and the paper ripping at the slightest glance. This one is different.

Printed on textured cardstock the color of midnight, it takes you a moment to realize the writing isn’t pressed, but handwritten in elegant, flowing script. The ink reminds you of fireflies in the garden, not quite gold, but not quite silver either. You spend far longer than you imagine entranced by how the light reflects off the letters.

Le Carnaval de L'éphémère

One night only. Never to return.

Opens at dusk and not before.

“Now I have your attention,” Henry smiles, knowing your obsession with stationery and calligraphy.

“Did you make this?” You can’t help but ask, even though the question sounds stupid the moment it leaves your mouth. Henry laughs and shakes his head.

“Bought and paid for. Like the card says, one night only, love.”

Your favorite part of October are the smells, and not for the first time, you’re grateful your anniversary with Henry falls nearly on Halloween. Every wonderful scent in the world–his included–is at full bloom right before the world falls asleep in Winter’s icy grasp, and summer aside, it’s the season where you feel the most alive.

Holding onto Henry’s bicep, you keep time with his long strides, his steps leading to Kynance, the mews not too far from the one you both live on, but far more idiosyncratic and interesting. The archway that marks the beginning of the street brings up a thought in your mind, and you can’t help but feel your curiosity yet again piqued in the same way it had been when Henry handed you the ticket.

“Isn’t Kynance a dead-end?” You ask, swearing you remember a dark brown double-gate at the end of the road. Squinting, you realize that the gate you remember is no longer there, replaced by a large iron gate behind which stands an old-fashioned ticket booth. Henry just shrugs, his smile broadcasting the same excitement you feel growing in you with each step you take closer to the end of the mews.

There’s a few people already waiting when you get there, bundled up in various degrees of cold weather gear. Knowing you have the advantage of living with a human furnace, when the two of you settle in your spot, you simply slip your arms in between Henry and his plaid jacket, instantly shielding yourself not only from the cold, but from the slight breeze that twists and dances through the narrow road in a way you’ve never felt in any other mews.

Henry graciously wraps his arms around you, turning you both so that you’re parallel to the gate and can take a moment to appreciate how the sunset plays off the gilded edges of the ticketbooth. You notice a large, meticulously-constructed clock at the top of the booth, the numbers replaced with only two words where 12 and 6 would normally be; Dusk and Dawn are the only markers of time on this particular chronograph, and you recall the words on the ticket with a smile. Whatever this is, they’re leaning into it hard and you appreciate it greatly.

You tip your head up to press a kiss to Henry’s lips, his arms squeezing you tighter as a breeze seems to wrap around the two of you like a tornado. Pulling away, you both look at each other like children on Christmas morning, adventure and wonder filling the air. Your eyes turn to the sunset, mesmerized by the waves of pink and purple in the sky; a sunset rare for this part of the country, especially with winter fast approaching. Resting your head on Henry’s chest, you can’t keep the smile from your face if you tried.

A deep tintinnabulation causes you to lift your head, and looking at the ticket booth, you realize the clock has hit Dusk. The carnival is open and your night has just begun.

When the curtain draws back on the ticket booth, you nearly gasp to see not a person, but an automaton behind the glass. Impeccably painted, the animated machine holds out a hand and takes the ticket, inspecting it briefly before stamping the back with the same ink used in the hand lettering and returning it to the waiting patron. With each person, it gives a different greeting, and when it’s yours and Henry’s turn, you eagerly await what it has to say.

Stamped and handed back, the automaton looks up at you and briefly, you wonder if there’s not life behind the glass eyes in its papier mache skull.

“Two lovers by a moss-grown spring: They leaned soft cheeks together there, Mingled the dark and sunny hair, And heard the wooing thrushes sing.O budding time! O love’s blest prime!”

The accent is appropriately 18th century, and you hear Henry snort above you, his face holding nothing but amusement. “The lady knows her Eliot,” he remarks with a raised eyebrow, taking his ticket back and keeping you close as you step forwards to heavy black and white striped curtain. You can’t help but smile when you feel Henry’s one-handed grip on you tighten as he peels back the curtain with the other hand.

A gasp does leave you this time, as you’re met with a narrow corridor, lit only by small flecks of light that dance around as though in their own orbit. Fog floats at your feet, and ozone floods your nostrils. You keep both arms wrapped around Henry’s torso as he guides you through, knowing full well you’re nearly night blind.

The corridor twists and turns in impossible directions given its geographical location, and for a moment your mind goes to the Bermuda triangle and alternate universes. There’s no way the city allowed them (whoever they are) to take up so much public space and alter it in such a way as to confuse the carnival-goers into thinking they’ve entered another realm. After what feels liked an eternity, you and Henry find yourselves at another curtain.

You watch the confusion and excitement light up in Henry’s eyes after he lifts the second curtain, bringing you into open square. Intricate parquet floors gleam from the rays of a moon that seems too close to be your own. Other guests mill about, all with the same slack-jawed expression of awe that both you and Henry are wearing. In the center of the square stands an iron cage with cutouts designed to look like trapeze artists, lions, tigers, and tents. Inside burns a fire that you swear changes color each time you blink. Henry has to physically move you towards the first tent.

With the same gilded lettering as the ticket, the tent is titled simply, and though you swear it’s your night blindness playing tricks on you, the lights around the sign seem to dance in circles around the letters.

Hall of Mirrors

Looking at Henry, you can’t refuse the boyish grin he gives you, letting him lead you in through another heavy curtain, into an even darker space. When your eyes adjust, you see each mirror is lit by a single, flickering candle and you can’t stop yourself from stepping up to the first one that’s at eye level to you. Rather than your own reflection, you find a scene that brings tears to your eyes immediately. In a grassy field sits the man you love, a warm creme-colored sweater setting him apart from the sea of green. In his arms is an infant, little hands curling around Henry’s chin as it coos and gurgles happily. Finally, you enter the frame, another infant held in your arms, the smile that lights Henry’s face one you won’t soon forget.

“You alright, love?” Henry asks even though his eyes don’t move away from the mirror he’s gazing into. You squeeze him tight and wipe your eyes, smiling up at him after giving him a little jostle. When he meets your gaze, you’re not surprised to see the same, sappy look on his features that you yourself are wearing.

“I love you,” he whispers, a breeze ruffling through his curls as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead even as the air guides you out of the tent. You return the sentiment with a kiss to his sternum and a rub to his back, the scene still playing vividly in your head.

A scent catches your attention as you step back into the moonlit square, and without even needing to look up, you feel Henry tug you in the direction it’s coming from. Salted caramel and exotic spices mingle in the air, creating an otherworldly smell that you wish you could bottle up. Arriving at the stand, you marvel at the different offerings, all delivered by a different automaton dressed much like an 18th century baker would be.

Without a word, the doll hands each of you a bag of caramel corn, drizzles of chocolate and a sprinkle of cinnamon binding everything into one mouth-watering treat. The doll’s eyes indicate that the two of you should move and Henry quickly shuffles you out of the way and accidentally into another tent.

Though you miss the sign, there’s no question as to its contents the fur brushes your hand. Looking down, you’re met with a white Siberian tiger, its frost-colored eyes gazing up at you with curiosity. The animal chuffs and purrs, rubbing itself against you before moving on to another patron.

“Henry,” you whisper before moving your gaze and finding a veritable pack of large cats prowling the interior of the tent, none of them seeming all that interested in the prey that walked right into their space. You side-step when Henry gets nudged by a full-grown lion, its main a beautiful sunlit gold, the cat nuzzling against Henry until he gets pet. Henry laughs, the sound equal parts joy and surprise, neither of you understanding how it’s possible.

You get braver with each step, and soon you’re petting puma while Henry is crouched down, getting a tongue bath from a cheetah, the fear of being mauled all but a distant memory as you enjoy what seems like a dream.

When you finally step out of the tent, both of you have to pause short as a colony of penguins waddle past, some wearing bow ties. “Henry,” you look up, befuddled, “what is this place?” Again, you get a helpless shrug, Henry’s eyes catching the moonlight and nearly making you swoon for how icy blue they look.

You all but yank Henry to the next tent, excitement rushing through you like whitewater down a mountain.

Aquatic Life

Behind the curtain is a wall of water, and you flinch thinking you’re about to get caught in a tsunami, but the water moves only in gentle waves, never once losing its vertical shape. An automaton hands each of you a paper straw, motioning for you to go forward, into the unconfined aquarium. Placing the straw in your mouth as modeled by the doll, you and Henry hang onto each other tightly as you step through the threshold. Surrounded by an oceanic warmth, you look down to find your clothes not only feel dry, but that you and Henry are both encircled in a bubble blown simply by the two of you breathing normally.

A dolphin swims past, jarring you from your thoughts, and you look up to find a whale shark coming directly for you. Henry pulls you aside and you both stand completely still as the creature dallys past. Sea turtles, great whites, and jellyfish all move about, not caring whether they’re impossible or not. Reaching out, you touch the bell of the jellyfish, marveling when your hand comes back as dry as it went in.

Your last stop for the night is one of the few stands that offer games of chance. Though you have a rule about them, Henry convinces you to let him play once, and you give in, unwilling to say no when he’s managed to escort you on the most magical evening you’ve ever had.

The game is simple; on a luxuriant black velvet board, the same twinkling lights that illuminate the rest of the carnival dance. If Henry counts how many of them there are and guesses the correct number, he wins you a prize.

Sipping on the last of his cider, you watch as he readies himself. The automaton signals and Henry begins, moving in quadrants so that he doesn’t re-count the number of lights. When the time reaches its limits, he writes his answer neatly on a piece of cardstock, handing it to the automaton. A moment’s pause and the wall behind the ornate doll slide open, revealing a choice of prizes unlike any you’ve seen at other carnivals.

You take your time in choosing, the automaton seeming to watch you as you select between antique jewelry, smaller automatons, a framed painting of a headless woman, or a plush tiger which looks handcrafted and not mass-produced. Henry says nothing, but you can see his eyes venturing to the automaton of a ballerina, so realistic and graceful its as if they miniaturized the principal dancer of the Royal Ballet.

You point at the Ballerina, and when the automaton places it in your hand, you’re delighted to find that she sits on a jewelry case, dancing to a music box version of Gymnopedie. So admiring of it are you that you nearly trample a contortionist on your way out of the kiosk area. The woman smiles understandingly from her position, reaching up with one hand to give you and Henry each a small card.

On it, you find a fortune similar to the kind you’re used to getting inside of takeout cookies. You only read the first word before the contortionist catches your attention again, shaking her head from its spot between her knees. She indicates the music box, and without a word, you place the fortune inside, daring not read it just yet.

As you make your way out of the carnival, the first streams of sunlight filter through the starry sky, and you blink, trying to figure out how time seemed to slow inside the carnival. Just as you come to the edge of the cobbles, you hear the chiming of the bell once more, and looking back, are shocked to find the same old brown gate you remembered always being there. You say nothing to Henry, still held in thrall by the magic of the evening and not wanting to ruin it with chatter.

You very nearly forget about the music box and the ballerina once you get home, the ache in your feet from having spent all night walking around making itself known as you sit down for the first time in nearly six hours. It’s not until the familiar tinny music begins to play again that you remember the fortune you’d tucked inside. Standing, you pad over to the box and to Henry who still seems to be in a dreamlike state, his eyes transfixed on the ballerina.

“What did you see in the mirror?” You ask him quietly as you observe the automaton dancing on her platform. Henry’s quiet for a few moments, and when he speaks, his voice is soft and hoarse, as though he’s holding back tears.

“I saw you standing in our kitchen, swaying back and forth, wearing my favorite dress of yours. You were smiling and there was music playing off in the distance. When you turned, you were glowing. And…” he waivers, pulling you back against him, his face tucked into the crook of your neck. “You were carrying our babies.” The words are muffled and whispered, holding so much joy and anticipation, that it puts a frog in your own throat and you can’t help but reach up and card a hand through Henry’s curls in silent hope.

Reaching down, you open the box just as the music fades, winding it up to play anew before pulling out your fortune. You let out a wet chuckle when you read the words, and Henry squeezes you tighter, a snuffle accompanying the tears that darken the shoulder of your shirt.

On the same beautiful black cardstock are the gilded letters, the fortune cementing the night’s theme.

After winter comes spring, and new life it brings.

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #fic #deathonyourtongueoriginals #fluff

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midnight-madonna · 4 years

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tagged by @daveslutstaine, thank you! ❤️❤️

Bold the choice that appeals to you

ancient or modern / bitter or sweet / chocolate or vanilla / coffee or tea / create or destroy / day or night / early bird or night owl / freckles or dimples / gold or silver / greek mythology or egyptian mythology / macarons or eclairs / hot or cold / thunder or lightning / typewritten or handwritten / secret garden or secret library / spicy or mild / dark magic or light magic / ocean or desert / mermaids or sirens / known or unknown / rough or smooth / moon or stars / rain or snow

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch small animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure (just anxious lmao) / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

i wear bracelets on my wrists/ i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love dimly lit diners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids’ shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humour is very cheerful (I guess?) / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love the chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i can love unconditionally

wind or rain / closed curtains or open window / bumblebees or butterflies / banana bread or cheesecake / tulips or roses / lemon & honey or apple & cinnamon / hillside cottage or city apartment / book or video game / organized bullet journal or cluttered sketchbook / smoothie or milkshake / sunshine or moonlight / relaxing or productivity / holding hands or back hugs / sunset at the beach or stargazing in a field / poetry or prose / candle or diffuser / longing for the past or longing for the future / snowy mountain or rolling green hills

now I'm tagging @holyjudaspriest @pierogiess @scalesandswords @angels-holocaust @havocinthebluebox @misfit-on-a-journey @edgyspices @my-space-and-all-within @asylumsammet

if you want to!

#tag games

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luninosity · 5 years

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Yay! A short story I wrote a while ago for a Women in SF contest (didn’t win) will be out from JMS Books in May!

It’s m/f (for that anon a while back who asked about whether I’d do more of that) but both protagonists are very happily openly bisexual.

It’s also the story that I pitched as, “like a Regency romance ballroom first meeting...only in space...like, the ballroom is part of the Galactic Empire and the dashing captain is the captain of a starship. And there’re gay and ace secondary characters on Kit’s crew. And also there are jelly sun-candies and champagne and dress uniforms.”

Want the beginning?

“You never call your mother,” Lady Elise’s virtual image grumbled across time and space. Imperial Starship Captain Catherine Everington contemplated thumping her head against her own desk, under the sympathetic artificial gleam of the wall lights. She didn’t. Her mother would see.

She said instead, “I’m calling you now,” which was true and therefore inarguable.

“Only because I called you first. Ten times.”

All right, maybe it was arguable. “Mother, I’m busy.”

“You are not too busy for this. It’s important, Catherine.”

“To you,” Kit said, and tipped her chair back on two legs, mostly to watch her mother cringe. Her chair was used to this, and bent obligingly. The captain’s personal briefing room folded curved sleek walls around her in solidarity; out on the Dreamer’s bridge, she knew, her crew would be waiting. Her family. Her home. “I’m not part of your politics. I haven’t been that for years.”

“I’ll make it an order if I must.”

“You don’t have the authority.”

“I’m having tea with the Lord Admiral tomorrow, and he’ll be perfectly delighted to issue you a new set of directives.” Steel and rose petals; lace and swords. Kit sighed again. Her mother was every bit a child of the aristocracy, each diminutive inch crackling with brilliance. Lady Elise’d been born to power, and wouldn’t let anything as simple as not technically in fact being a commander of the Imperial Exoplanetary Survey Service stand in her way.

Kit, of course, would inherit all that power.

She tried not to think about it, most days. About the title, the planets, the gardens, the vast shipping consortium. About that other life, full of waltzes and ballgowns and necklaces strung with rare gems from a thousand worlds.

About the disappointment in her mother’s eyes, when faced with an only child who’d chosen the Academy and exploration and clunky exo-suit boots and short spiky hair and the delicate curl of tattoo-script along her left forearm, the lines her crew had convinced her to get while they’d all been merrily tipsy on the resort planet of Mira, on leave and planning the next leap into the unknown, toasting the IESS motto with sweet winter-vine wine: We seek the next star…

At the moment all the stars glittered, tantalizing and slipping even further away, outside her briefing-room window.

She tried, hopelessly, “I don’t want to.”

“You have a duty to the family, Catherine.” Lady Elise shook out flowing sleeves, smoothed them down, and did nothing so inelegant as cross her arms or scowl. “To the name. To the position. You will someday be the fifty-second Lady of the Fourth—”

“I know!” So did her crew. Qi’in had laughed for twenty minutes. Serena had asked about Lady Elise’s famous dazzling salon nights. Gil, Kit’s unflappable second in command, had known her since the Academy, and had raised eyebrows and said, teasing, “So now that everyone knows, can Richard and I borrow your summer home on Utopia One for a vacation, sometime…?”

“You can’t ignore your social obligations forever.”

“I’m working, Mother!”

“Yes…so you are.” Plainly a personal insult, that. Elise eyed her daughter with steel behind blue-and-silver bejeweled eyelashes. “I do know it’s quite a current trend for ladies to slip on trousers and run corporations and even join the Fleet—and don’t think I’ve not heard that you’ve inspired them—but, Catherine, you’ve made your point. You needn’t run around in the dirt of strange planets any longer. We all know you can, if you so desire; you’re perfectly capable of whatever you’d like to achieve. So you’re welcome to return home for the Emperor’s celebration gala.” In that voice the words welcome to became an order. Not to be disobeyed.

“Mother—” But it wouldn’t do any good. Hadn’t on any of the countless other occasions, over the previous ten years. The chair curled itself more closely around her.

Changing tactics, perhaps. Kit tried, anyway. “We’re half a galaxy away and busy, we’ve got three more worlds to survey, we can’t just call off the mission for a celebration—”

“Darling, it’s the end of the Regency!” Her mother spread both hands: can’t you see it? “It’s positively historic. Our new young Emperor finally of age—it has been nearly twenty years, and we’ve had those six old men bickering with each other for so long about what’s best for the throne, so this will be the beginning of an era…I wonder what he’ll wear. His uncle Pericles always favored reds, with that overdone gold embroidery…”

“He’ll wear clothing,” Kit said flatly. “Mother, you don’t need me there. I only ever embarrass you.”

“Oh, how can you say that?”

“It’s true.”

“Of course it is, but you don’t have to say it.” Lady Elise sighed. “Catherine, we are one of the leading families of the Empire, like it or not, and you are the only child of the Fourth House. Your absence would be remarked. But it won’t be.”

“…because I’m going to the ball.”

“Precisely.” With a head-tilt, contemplative. “You ought to wear blue. Or green. You look lovely in green.”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does.” Those sapphire-blue eyes, a shade poets had once committed sonnets over, looked surprised. “The trend-setters, the dressmakers, the tailors, the weavers…the merchants who import various dyes…the murmurs in ballrooms, in palaces, whether you’ve worn this color or refused that favor…it all leads somewhere, Catherine. How many times have I told you?”

“Enough,” Kit said, and instantly felt guilty, that undefined sense of generalized shame that came along with her mother’s beauty and political acumen and precisely calculated raptures over a bolt of new chiffon. Lady Elise was in many ways everything her daughter was not; and even Kit sometimes forgot as much, fooled along with the rest of the universe by the spun-sugar smile.

She said, not precisely an apology, “You think it will be noticed, then. If I’m not there.”

Her mother waited, eyebrows up.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“The celebration is two weeks from tomorrow. You’d have more time if you’d answered my earlier messages.”

More guilt. Kit shoved it down. She’d not been precisely ignoring said messages, only…putting off returning the call. “We’ll…try. All right?”

“Wear your hair long if you can. Softness happens to be in style this Season, not that anyone truly believes anyone else’s appearances of innocence, of course.” Elise thought this over, and added, “Particularly not Lady Patrice. We all know she’s sharing Regent Lancel’s bed, and honestly, showing up with that undone hair and those dewy cheeks and those protestations of purity is all in such poor taste. At her age, too.”

Lady Patrice happened to be Elise’s friend, or as close to the term as possible. Kit chose not to mention that her mother was the same age, minus a month or two. “This is as long as my hair gets, Mother. And you don’t actually expect the new Emperor to look twice at me. Besides, the poor boy will have just claimed his throne. You can’t imagine he’ll be hunting a spouse on the same night.”

“He might,” Elise observed, implacable. Kit glanced out at the stars for support. The new Emperor was luckier than he’d ever know that her mother was ineligible as a future Empress, given the need for an heir.

“I’m not planning to seduce him. I’m going to meet him, congratulate him, and smile. And then leave.”

“Seduce him—honestly, Catherine. You make it sound so calculated.”

“It isn’t?”

“Please refrain from discussing sexual conduct in front of the Emperor.” Elise paused, thought for a second, then conceded, “You may do it, however. If he shows any interest.”

“Bright stars,” Kit said, with feeling, and buried her face in her hands.

#starlit balls and starship captains #my fic #soon #original fic #jms books

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havocinthebluebox · 4 years

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Tag game

Tagged by @magical--wizard, thank you my dear ! 😉

Bold the choice that appeals to you

ancient or modern / bitter or sweet / chocolate or vanilla / coffee or tea / create or destroy (from my point of view, there cannot be one without the other) / day or night / early bird or night owl / freckles or dimples / gold or silver / greek mythology or egyptian mythology / macarons or eclairs / hot or cold / thunder or lightning / typewritten or handwritten / secret garden or secret library / spicy or mild / dark magic or light magic / ocean or desert / mermaids or sirens / known or unknown / rough or smooth / moon or stars / rain or snow

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure (scaredy cat but adventurous cat !) / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season (I hate it. I hate it so much.) / my radio is always playing

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry (not doing it, it’s tedious and boring as hell. But I love the smell of fabric softener on clothing and bed linen) / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humour is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love the chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

Tagging : @misfit-on-a-journey @my-space-and-all-within @tasha-lemon, @rapha-writes @fitzchivalrysfool, if you want to have some fun

#game #tag game

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1soos · 4 years

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tagged by @1of1orbit

i tag: no one. i have no friends on here anymore lkdsjf

rules: bold the aesthetics you relate to and add twenty of your own aesthetic qualities for others to bold

soft

dark academia

edgy

seventies

preppy casual

cinanamon - steph

gold jewelry, slowdancing in the kitchen with a lover, sun on skin, red-tinted lip balm, lazy mornings, getting lost in foreign cities, scent of bakeries, high-waisted jeans, kissing someone’s neck, writing reminders on your wrist, sleeping in braids to have waves in the morning, growing an herb garden, gentle touches, sketches tucked between pages, flushed cheeks, tandem bikes, floating in a pool, vintage gold hand-mirror, deer grazing, softly singing while doing chores

jaesmintea - dia

naptimetea - helena

jeonginks

scxrlettwxtches

listening to a song and remembering the times you used to listen to it on repeat | imagining yourself living in any other life than the one you have now | crop tops and high waisted jeans | forgetting to smile but not actually being upset | nuzzling your face in the crook of their neck | back hugs when you’re stressed | turning in assignments 1 minute before they’re due | wanting a relationship but getting scared the moment you’re in one | pretending that you don’t care when inside you’re burning with doubts and fears | the sound of the evening waves as you lie on the sand | lying in your bed listening to your sad playlist | exhaustion but you can’t sleep | singing loudly when you’re the only one home | feeling safe and comfortable with that person in your life | knee high suede black boots with your black winter coat | comfort over appearance | writing essays at 2 am | creative peak from 1 am to 4 am | the one that always ends up walking in the back of a friend group

hyunsracha - sav!

lveletters

dnceracha - sydni

bamshine - sae

1of1orbit - nes

1soos - kirby

#please if you want to do this let me know and i will tag you #tag games #this really did take me so long #about me

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azaleablueme · 5 years

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T for the minifics? i lovedddd sharing a drink

Aaahh! Thank you @the-shiftiest-swiftie! Btw this was such a difficult but fun prompt! I so hope you like it!

T: An Obscure AU (prompts)

Tiny Hermione loved nature, everything from the lush green grass to the colours that bloomed during the spring, and the brilliant shades of orange and red during autumn. The small garden in front of their cottage was picture perfect, trimmed precisely by her father, seasonal flowers growing in manicured little bushes around the perimeter.

However, if she had to choose, she loved the little kitchen garden at the back of their house more. Her mother grew an assortment of vegetables in neat, labelled patches. But that wasn’t all. Just where their property ended, the woods began. Her father tended the hedge that marked the boundary separating their perfect little house from the woods. What neither of her parents knew, however, was that beyond the hedge was the place Hermione loved best in the whole wide world.

There was a small, mysterious little gap in the otherwise perfect bushes, small enough for a five-year-old to pass through.

The forest was by far her favourite place in the entire world, not that she had seen much of it, but her heart knew that there couldn’t possibly be anyplace prettier. Here everything seemed to grow in a riot of colours and textures, branches and leaves, flowers and fruits, lush moss-covered roots of trees that grew so high that they practically hid away the summer sun. The birds sang, and crickets chipped, and when the wind rustled through the leaves, they played music.

Here lived her best friend.

He came out of nowhere, his brilliant orange hair flaming like the rising sun, eyes blue as a clear day sky, skin white as snow, tiny golden, translucent wings fluttering furiously behind him.

He was a naughty boy and the first time she saw him she hadn’t liked him in the least. They were both three at the time, and he was rolling happily on the beach of the little brook that ran through the forest, giggling all by himself.

“You have dirt on your nose!” she had blurted out, shaking her head like her mother did. Mum always said one should keep themselves clean. He didn’t seem to know. The boy with the golden wings had rolled his eyes at her before he came fluttering towards her, jiggling and bobbing up and down like he was just learning to fly, still unsure of the direction his wings would carry him. Once he was close enough, he watched her curiously, circling her - and pulled her pigtails. It didn’t hurt, but she didn’t like it.

Much later he had told her that he was just surprised; he had never seen anyone without wings before.

For reasons her innocent little heart couldn’t fathom, Hermione kept the secret of his existence all to herself. But every lazy afternoon was spent in the woods with him. Strangely enough, her parents never seemed to miss or look for her. It suited her just fine.

As they grew older, she brought him books but he wasn’t very fond of them. He did like when she read to him though, so they sat under a very old oak tree, and she read to him, stories of the faraway lands and books of magical tales. He laughed and said magic didn’t work the way it did in her books. She didn’t believe him so he showed her. A little blue flower popped amidst the grass as he blinked. She tried blinking too and when she was upset that it didn’t work, he taught her a game. She would choose the colour and they blinked together, little flowers popping all around them one by one, small bits of magic really, for his magic was still not strong enough. Gold and red flowers would bloom all around them and Hermione could pretend she had worked the magic. They would run around together amidst the blooms hand in hand, and it would be the best thing ever. He would learn, he promised, learn well until he could make flowers bloom all over the meadow beyond the hill, flowers in her favourite colours. He would learn to make the birds sing, the plants grow, make snow drift down lazily like she loved- he would learn it all for her.

The days passed and they grew older, her hair reached her waist in curls like tendrils of the vines that hung down their favourite tree, his wings getting stronger, strong enough to bear the weight of two, flapping behind him majestically, all gold and bright with a peppering of small, red stars all over. In all these years, the space in the hedge grew too, accommodating her always and surprisingly, her father who always tended it with so much care never seemed to know.

She always found him waiting for her, and when he sat on the rock by the brook, she thought he resembled the marble statues of the angels in Venice, pure and flawless. He told her about his world and she read to him about hers. Years passed, the bond grew stronger still- two souls from different worlds blended together in ways even Magic herself couldn’t explain.

It was her nineteenth year, sometime after the summer had ended when she saw another just like him.

She was pale too but not like him. Her hair all light and straight, reached down to her waist, her wings bright and purple. She came after him, fluttering gracefully, laughter ringing in the woods like tinkling bells, and though she was a sight to behold, Hermione realised she didn’t like her the least.

“Oh, Ronald!” the girl giggled, flying around them. Her words seemed to be made of musical notes. “She is not one of us.” The notes were shrill, the kind that hurt the ears but mesmerising still.

Hermione clutched her book tighter, glancing quietly at him, pleading. “Does it matter?” she asked, the question directed at the one who stood, his enormous wings folded behind him.

“You don’t belong in our world!” the girl sneered. The high notes were getting unbearable.

“She belongs in mine,” he replied, blue eyes locked firmly on Hermione’s.

The girl laughed. “Oh, you foolish creature! You dream of him! You don’t belong with him, you never will!”

Hermione looked up, the moisture leaking out of her eyes, an indescribable fear mounting in her.

“Come, leave her! We have to go!” the girl announced, grabbing Ron by the hand, her wings flapping furiously but failing to pull him away.

“Leave,” he told the girl.

“You can’t stay with her!” she screeched.

“I can if I want to,” he replied.

“You don’t belong here!” the girl screamed at Hermione. It was still a musical note, but nothing like music- it tore through the quiet murmur of the forest, causing the trees to sway fearfully.

“GO!” he roared and unfurled his wings, wide and strong, and suddenly all the noises seemed to cease. The girl screeched, there was no music this time only agony, and left, yelling words in a language Hermione didn’t know. But the forest seemed to understand, and they were scared.

“Go if you must. I’ll wait for you here, till the end of time if I have to,” Hermione told him. He stretched his hand to touch her cheek, leaned in as if to finally touch his lips to hers. Years worth of longing, or it could have been lifetimes really, burned through her. What was this need, this yearning? And where would it take her? She did not belong in his world- he didn’t belong in hers.

“She’ll tell them and they’ll know you are here. If I kiss you like I have craved for years now, I’ll leave a mark, a trace of my magic, on your skin and they’ll find you sooner,” he murmured, sighing, longing dripping from every word.

“What if I don’t care?” she asked fiercely.

“I do,”

“I can’t leave you!” she pleaded, tiptoeing to meet his height, craving the trace of his magic he could leave on her lips.

“No,” he pleaded.

“What’s the worst they can do?” she cried.

“Take your memories,” he replied, lips quivering, “You’d never know about me…”

“NO!” she screeched, pulling herself away and then crashing back on his chest. Please… “There’s got to be some other way!” she sobbed, cocooned in his wings.

“I don’t know,” he told her, holding her flush against himself, “but I’ll find out, I promise.”

She didn’t see him for years. The hedge no longer opened into a wood but a quiet neighbourhood everyone was convinced existed forever.

….

Ten years later, one bright summer day, as she was walking back to the small flat she owned, she saw a familiar tall figure standing by the lamp post. His hair shone like the rising sun, eyes seemed to have been painted by the clear blue sky, and his fair skin was dotted all over with freckles.

He looked human but she knew better.

Hermione ran like she had never before, right into wide-open arms that were waiting for her.

“Ron!” she sobbed, encased firmly in his embrace.

“Hermione,” he breathed into her hair.

“I thought I’d never find you!”

“I told you, I’ll come back no matter what it took,” he replied, pressing his lips to hers.

They couldn’t take her away from him now, or trace her through his kiss.

He missed his magic for a fleeting second for he had always hoped to carry her in his arms as he flew, but in the end, Ron knew he’d trade his wings for her all over again if he had to….

#Romione prompt fics #AU #Romance #mystery #I have never written something like this #thank goodness I wasn't tagging these as minifics #no control over word limits #my brain is saturated with good omens #so you know where the inspiration is from #the Au-est AU I have ever written!

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betweenpaperpages · 5 years

Text

Hear Me Still - Chapter Seven

Summery: A new store-front is set to open on main street in Storybrooke and with it brings new resident Mr. Gold to the center of attention. While he looks forward to this new step in business, it is yet unknown if his deafness will set him back once again.

Beta: @ishtarelisheba

Read on AO3!

[Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five][Chapter Six]

Chapter Seven: More Than Meets The Eye

________________________________________________________________

Acquiring his new library card was a simple and straightforward affair, and in a matter of a few minutes Marcus had it slipped into his wallet and a new stack of books to read. He should really head back to the shop to get some work done or perhaps take care of a few other errands.

Belle spoke up again before he had the chance to wish her a good day.

“How are you liking Storybrooke so far, Mr. Gold?” Belle questioned, handing him his books. “You haven’t been here long, have you?”

Marcus shook his head side to side lightly. “Oh, uh... no, not very long. Perhaps a month or so?” he answered, sounding unsure himself. “I haven’t been around town much… Busy putting the shop together.”

Belle smiled as she listened to his answer, enjoying the brush of accent across his wording. “I can imagine, you seem to have quite the collection there.” She chuckled.

“Y-yes well… one never knows what could be someone’s treasure.”

“Have you had the chance to explore town at all?”

“A small portion, however, Grace is determined to take me on an adventure and show me the entire town before school begins.”

“Grace? Grace Madden?” Belle questioned.

Gold nodded, his gaze slipping down to the books in front of him, restacking them from smallest to largest. “Yes, Jefferson’s daughter. Do you know her?”

“Yes, she comes to story time every now and then with -- “

“Hey, lassie!” a heavily accented voice called, cutting her response off. “Can you help me over here for a sec?”

Belle sighed in annoyance. Really, Merida should know to keep their voice down to a reasonable level. “Excuse me Mr. Gold, I’ll just be a minute.” She turned to walk around the circulation desk, brushing past him on her way.

Marcus shook his head as he looked back up to her. “N-no, please, go ahead. I apologize for taking up your time,” he managed to mutter, though he was certain half of it wasn’t heard.

“What can I do for you Mer?” Belle questioned.

The conversation drifted into background noise the farther the librarian walked away to help the young redhead, leaving Marcus to gather up his books and quietly heading back home for the day.

xxxxx

Marcus sighed as the door swung open, stepping into Jefferson’s rather eclectic home. While he wouldn’t call it his style, he felt fortunate that he was invited and encouraged to call the space home.

He took a step to the side, setting the library books down on the hall table and tossing his keys into the bowl before depositing his coat on the rack — which inevitably only stood to support Jeff’s favorite top hat.

The house’s silence hugged him as he made his way up to his bedroom, flicking on the lights as he went, confirming that both Jeff and his daughter were out. Marcus ran his hands through his hair, gathering the length together to tie off in a ponytail. It wasn’t an intended look - he more so used it for convenience, but it didn’t stop his family from pointing out the longer it got, the closer he was to having a man bun. He shook his head at the idea. Clearly he did not have the looks for such a style. Carefully, he reached back to each of his ears, clicking the off button and pulling out his hearing aids, setting them aside on the dresser.

Going from a world of sound, music, and chatter to one of near void-like silence had not been an easy transition. However, it was something he simply had to deal with at the time. There had been no time nor reason to wallow in self pity. After a while, one became accustomed to their inner monolog being a constant companion. There certainly would never be a day he wasn’t alone with his thoughts.

Marcus hummed ‘A Whole New World’ to himself as he made his way back downstairs. The song had been incessantly playing in his mind from Grace’s last rewatch of Aladdin. He only stopped for a moment to pick up the stack of borrowed cookbooks on his way to the kitchen.

Jefferson certainly had not skimped on the budget when he renovated the house. The kitchen had just about every element any chef, or in this case, a home cook could dream of. Large farmhouse sink, marble countertops, soft-close drawers, double ovens, a gas range, along with all other top quality appliances. Such a kitchen deserved a proper chef, but instead today it would have him for company again.

He settled one of the cookbooks into a nesting stand, flipping through the pages before settling on a vegetarian casserole. The kitchen was well stocked and easily had all of the ingredients he would need without making a run to the grocery store for any last minute items.

Marcus pulled out a colander to place in the sink before gathering his vegetables, taking a moment to make sure his shirt sleeves were well rolled, pulling on an apron, and starting to wash them up in cool water. Even though it was still summer it was a bit late in the season to plant anything in Jefferson’s garden. Perhaps if he was still living with the Maddens coming next year it could be his and Grace’s project.

Moving to the cutting board with the zucchini and heirloom tomatoes, he picked out a suitably sharp knife and began slicing everything to the appropriate size, glancing back up and checking the recipe book for any details. Marcus enjoyed cooking, but even at his age he could admit he was still learning quite a few things. The fact that he was cooking for others and not just himself made the effort worthwhile and that much more enjoyable.

As careful as he would be as if restoring an antique, he layered a baking dish with the vegetables along with fresh basil, garlic, salt and pepper, finishing off the top layer with a blend of cheeses. Sliding the dish into the oven and setting a timer, he washed up his tools and hands, moving on to pull out a small baguette. Quickly slicing it in half, he spread a garlic butter mixture on either side and set it to the side to be finished off at the last minute with the casserole.

Yet another benefit of living with the Madden’s was Jefferson’s intention on keeping up with the latest technology. If it was released, he was most likely to have already ordered it before it came on the market.

“Alexa,” Marcus called out, the small speaker unit hanging on the wall activating, “play Ludovico Einaudi.”

Faintly he could hear the computer respond to his request and with a few beeps it began to play one of his albums. The soft piano music twined beautifully with the string instruments, filling the kitchen with a gentle ambiance. It would probably be easier to use a device and place a pair of headphones into his ears to get the best sound without wearing his hearing aids. However, he much preferred for the drifting music to fill the space around him, pushing the wall of near silence back just a few feet.

xxxxx

Marcus had just slipped the garlic bread into the oven as he heard the high-pitched sound of the doorbell ring. Glancing up from his cookbook where he was leaning on the counter, he saw the LED light on the doorway flashing brightly. He set the book aside as he stepped into the hall when a small body with open arms crashed into his midsection without warning.

“Uncle Gold, we’re home!” Grace announced happily, resting her chin on his belly as she grinned up at him.

Marcus chuckled as he squeezed her back. “Yes, I can see that.”

Jefferson frowned as he closed the door behind him with his foot, shaking his head. “Grace, we’ve talked about this before.” He sighed as he set the shopping bags down on the hall table. “You have to give him a chance to get to the door before barrelling in like that.”

“It’s fine, Jeff,” Gold brushed off, his eyes having been glued to his friend’s lips to read them. “I saw the kitchen doorbell, it's not like she gave me a heart attack.”

“No, she knows the rules better than that. Grace, you owe Marcus an apology.”

Grace glanced to her father before back up to Marcus, biting her lip as she released him from her arms. “I’m sorry.”

He took a knee down next to his niece as he bopped her nose with his finger, offering her a smile. “That’s quite alright, I get excited to see you, too. Why don’t you wash up, dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

“Okay.”

Jeff shook his head again as he watched his daughter take off up the stairs before. “You spoil her you know that?” he questioned, though there wasn’t much mirth to his voice.

“Not that much. She just has a lot of energy,” Marcus responded, pushing up off the ground. He picked up one of the bags to carry it through to dining room off the kitchen. “Alexa, pause music.”

“Still, she knows the rules. We went over them half a dozen times before you moved in. I don’t need nor want my child to give you a heart attack because you didn’t hear her.” Jefferson sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned in the doorway between the two spaces.

“Jeff, you’ve done more than enough to accommodate me. More than someone could reasonably ask. If I’m not paying attention to my surroundings and my heart is really that weak, then a heart attack is my own damn fault,” Marcus lectured. Really, the man had done more than enough to assist him with his transition into Storybrooke, let alone his business start up. Compared to what he had seen… Well, a young girl would hardly be the death of him.

Jefferson adjusted his weight against the door frame, his face holding a curious expression though it dropped with another sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”

His hands dropped to the side as he stood up, turning towards the kitchen and taking a large inhale of the attractive aroma. “Besides, looking at that apron, who couldn’t benefit from having Julia Child living with them?”

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bubblesthemonsterartist · 6 years

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PROMPTATHON: Obi goes looking for his mother, and Shirayuki (of course) comes with. Shirayuki gets some tastes of Obi's past. Obi's not sure what he expected to find (or not find), but it sure wasn't this.

Prompts are currently closed while I catch up. I will announce when I am open! :)

A/N: I decided to tease this scene from future Noble Lines chapters because this prompt has gone unanswered for far, FAR too long and I am determined to clean out my ask box.

Content warning: Mentions of abuse. Everything kept below the cut not so much for explicit content, but spoilers.

The carriage clatters around them, cobblestones testing the workmanship of hinges and Shirayuki grips her hands together tighter. Each bend in their journey brings a crash of stone to wheel to box, rattling her teeth and the possibilities flitting around in her brain so fiercely that one conclusion is just as elusive as another.

What if he was taking her to his house? Did he have one here? If not, was he taking her to an inn? It wouldn’t be so untoward to assume. Just because he didn’t come to her room to make his claim last night doesn’t mean he… couldn’t. Whenever he wanted.

Shirayuki glances at him out of the corner of her eye, assessing, and he’s- he’s very large. Not just in height but the broadness of the shoulders, his clothes doing little to hide the lean strength that would be much greater than hers should he test it.

Shirayuki unclenches her hands, smoothing them down the folds of her skirt.

Zen had- he had promised that Obi was a good man. A kind man. A man that wouldn’t… press his advantage just because the law said she belonged to him. But back in Tanbarun, she had known far too many men called “good” and “kind” by their peers. They were the type that sent their wives to her apothecary in the middle of the night. A fall down the stairs here, a run in with a cabinet door there - each and every limp and bruise and sprain shielded by a bashful smile and a claim of clumsiness.

Shirayuki has no way of knowing if Obi is of their ilk. Or if Zen was capable of telling the good men apart from those with only good faces. All she knows is that she upset him. Somehow. Someway. And she wishes to make it right, but each second lived in uncertainty clutches at her heart, grabs at her throat until she cannot breathe.

“Where are we going?” she finally asks out loud.

Obi’s face is illuminated only through the slats between window and curtain, bars of light keeping him more hidden than not and she- she should be nervous, being in a closed carriage like this with a man she knows little of. She is nervous. But he’s- he’s her husband. This stranger is as close as family now, and there’s no one - no Prince nor King nor common man - that would find fault in their closeness, their privacy.

He turns towards her and her eyes drift up to the scar that touches his forehead.

“I wanted to show you something,” he says, voice strange. “About me.”

That does nothing to calm her. If anything, it makes the space feel tighter. “You could just tell me!” she laughs, voice high. “I’m a good listener!”

A smile twitches his lips, lopsided and bordering on fond. “Zen told me.”

The cabin lurches suddenly, the carriage coming to a stop, and she yelps, tumbling forward. It all happens so quickly: Her hands stretch out before her, too little too late, wide eyes latched to bench opposite as she falls towards it. Her body coils, flinching already, preparing for the blossom of pain of her face meeting the sharp edge-

Only for it to not come.

Warmth grasps ahold of her forearms, firm and gentle, and in the stillness of the moment, it takes her a couple of seconds to realize that she is no longer falling. Heart still pounding, body still half expecting the crack of skin to wooden base, her eyes flutter open slowly, tentatively, to reveal golden buttons and black wool mere inches from her face.

“Uhm,” she manages, breathless, the warmth flexing against her, and oh- Oh. Those are. Obi’s hands. Holding her.

Face burning, half wanting the world to swallow her whole, her eyes drag up the row of buttons to the peek of skin above the tie of his cravat. Past the chin and lips and well-shaped nose, she finally meets eyes wide and round as two gold coins.

“Are you-” his voice gives out a little - maybe he needs a lozenge? - and he coughs to clear it. “Are you alright, Miss?”

She stares mutely for a beat too long before their closeness registers. Jolting, she pulls back, Obi’s hands dropping away so quickly that he might have been burned.

“Uhm,” she says again, so intelligent. “Y-yes. Just fine. Thank you.”

She’s not looking at him, so she cannot match the expression to make sense of his voice when he replies, “Anytime, Miss.”

Swallowing, Shirayuki looks around the carriage, confused. “We stopped,” she says, and really. She’s smarter than this. One day she’ll prove it to him. “What- what happened? Why have we stopped?”

He’s peeking out the window when she feels brave enough to look at him, and the grin on his face doesn’t exactly look… happy. “We’re here.”

Before she can ask where ‘here’ is, the driver opens the door, letting bright midday light pour inside.

“Come on,” he says, already halfway out. “This should answer your questions.”

Frowning, Shirayuki watches him jump down, turning towards the carriage with a fools grin and hand extend.

Against her better judgement, she reaches out. Takes it.

And ignores the way her arms still itch maddeningly beneath her clothes.

~ ~ ~

The neighborhood she spills out into is quiet, idyllic. As close to the peacefulness of nature as one could get in the midst of a Capital. Little trees dot the side of the road, the walkways free of debris and overgrowth. Narrow townhouses press up tightly against one another, each painted in more festive colors than the next, curtains pulled open wide to reveal scenes of ladies taking tea or bent over embroidery. A few seem empty, windows open only to let in the early spring air after a long and hard winter, but Obi is not leading her to any of those.

The house he approaches is a few seasons past due for fresh paint, all the curtains closed up tight against prying eyes. And all at once, Shirayuki’s heart knocks hard against her ribs once again.

“Is this yours?” she asks.

Obi glances over his shoulder, his mouth trembling like she said something funny, and doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes hold of the knocker and raps three times.

Not his, then.

It doesn’t take long before the door shudders, opening by half to reveal the confused face of a girl slightly older than herself. She’s dressed simply, black dress accented by a starched white apron, and Shirayuki doesn’t even get the chance to catch her eye in greeting before the girl’s mouth goes slack.

“I’m sorry for not sending word ahead of me. Everything has happened so quick,” Obi begins, his voice soft with the admission, and this- it is definitely not his house. “But I was hoping that she would see me without notice.”

“Of- of course!” The maid stutters, eyes drifting from him to her then back again. Maybe aware that she is gaping, her gaze drops like a rock to the ground. Opening the door wider, she says, “Please. Come in.”

The house may have some veneer of faded beauty on the outside, but on the inside, it is as if it has been lost in time. Fine paintings of flowers and little fruit shaped figurines wilt under the weight of dust, long abandoned cobwebs floating from fine glass lamps. The silver tea set and silverware, too, has turned, unused and unkempt for too long on their displays, and the intricate wallpaper depicting a garden party in the midst of summer peels a little in the corners.

Shirayuki sneezes.

Obi glances down at her, frowning, and Shirayuki casts him a little apologetic smile. “It’s the dust,” she says, voice low in case the lady of the house is close enough to hear.

His frown deepens, glaze sliding off her and to the maid gesturing for them to take a seat on a mouldering sette. Shirayuki takes it, and sneezes again.

“There certainly does seem to be an unseemly amount,” he says pointedly.

The maids shoulder round in a wince. “The lady of the house says she prefers it thus.”

Shirayuki’s forehead wrinkles, glancing around them. Somehow, she doubts it.

Obi presses on, voice dropping to a low hiss. “Just because she has no room to complain doesn’t mean it should be kept in such a state.”

“It is only me and the lady, my lord,” the maid replies, her voice thick with apology and a hint of weedling. “We were going to do a thorough cleaning now that Spring is here.”

Throat working like a dog chewing down a growl, Obi asks, “Has he not been sending allowance?”

There’s so much going on that Shirayuki doesn’t understand. So many words that are passing over her head and she- she doesn’t like it. She doesn’t know why, but she is filled with the strange desire to be angry with him. To be filled with the comfort of righteous discontent and set on the path to fix it.

“He sends enough to keep the lady in comfort,” the maid finally responds.

Obi’s lips are pressed tight and there’s a rage along the line of his shoulders. “I’ve taken a position as a messenger to the second Prince,” he says, finally, and the girl starts. “I’ll ensure more funds be sent soon. In the meantime, I’ll come when I can. I look forward to this house becoming more… habitable.”

The maid starts. She shakes her head, sputtering a protest. “My lord!“

“Lylette!” a voice floats from somewhere up the stairs, halting their conversation. The words are stilted, carefully carving Clariness from an accent Shirayuki cannot recognize. “Lylette, who is it? Has someone come to call?”

Shirayuki’s eyes drift over to her husband, but Obi has gone stock still, eyes frozen on the stairwell.

At the top of it, a woman, rail thin and wrapped in a dressing gown made of patterned silk hovers like a ghost. There’s something strange about her, something sickly that has nothing to do with the way her black hair hangs unfashionably loose and glossy down to her waist.

“Yes, my lady! Just a moment!” the maid calls, rushing up the stairs with a strange sense of urgency. When Lylette reaches her, hand taking the small fingers that just peak from beneath the lady’s heavy sleeves and leading her down the stairs, Shirayuki finally sees it. The way that the white of her eyes never end, instead of enveloping the iris and pupil in a milky film. “We have guests-”

Her smile is a beautiful thing that is hidden away mere moments after it bloomed, her free hand raising from the railing to shield her mouth. “Oh my,” she breathes, navigating the stairs with a graceful ease. “It’s been such a long time. Who is it?”

Obi hasn’t spoken, hasn’t moved. So much so that Shirayuki had temporarily forgotten he was even there, but he does now, his voice gentle but loud enough to be heard. “It’s me.”

The woman stops on the steps, her painted lips parting in shock.

“It’s Obi, mother.”

#bubbleswrites #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #obiyuki #noble lines #no more attempts at schedules #i shall attack this ask pile until it's done #so i can work on my long stories again with reduced guilt #lol

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fluentlee · 6 years

Text

625 words in korean

These are the 625 words to know in your target language in Korean. I excluded honorific/formal words, which you can find in my last post. Please feel free to correct me if there are any mistakes as I’m not a native speaker ^_^

A D J E C T I V E S || 형 용 사 to be long // 길다 to be short (vs. long) // 짧다 to be tall // 키가 크다 to be short (vs. tall) // 키가 작다 to be wide // 넓다 to be narrow // 좁다 to be big/large // 크다 to be small/little // 작다 to be slow // 느리다 to be fast // 빠르다 to be hot // 덥다; 뜨겁다 to be cold // 춥다; 차갑다 to be warm // 따뜻하다 to be cool // 시원하다 to be new // 새롭다 to be old (vs. new) // 오래되다 to be young // 젊다 to be old (vs. young) // 늙다 to be good // 좋다 to be bad // 나쁘다 to be wet // 축축하다 to be dry // 마르다 to be sick // 아프다 to be healthy // 건강하다 to be loud // 시끄럽다 to be quiet // 조용하다 to be happy // 행복하다 to be sad // 슬프다 to be beautiful // 아름답다 to be ugly // 못생겼다 to be deaf // 귀먹다 to be blind // 눈이 멀다 to be nice // 착하다 to be mean // 못되다 to be rich // 부유하다 to be poor // 가난하다 to be thick // 두껍다 to be thin // 얇다 to be expensive // 비싸다 to be cheap // 싸다 to be flat // 평평하다 to be curved // 둥글다 male // 남성 female // 여성 to be tight // 팽팽하다 to be loose // 헐겁다 to be high // 높다 to be low // 낮다 to be soft // 부드럽다 to be hard // 딱딱하다; 단단하다 to be deep // 깊다 to be shallow // 얕다 to be clean // 깨끗하다 to dirty // 더럽다 to be strong // 강하다 to be weak // 약하다 to be alive // 살아있다 to be heavy // 무겁다 to be light (vs. heavy) // 가볍다 to be dark // 어둡다 to be light (vs. dark) // 밝다 to be nuclear // 핵이다 to be famous // 유명하다

A N I M A L S || 동 물 dog // 개 cat // 고양이 fish // 물고기 bird // 새 cow // 소 pig // 돼지 mouse // 쥐 horse // 말 wing // 날개 animal // 동물

A R T || 예 술 band // 악단; 밴드 song // 노래 (musical) instrument // 악기 music // 음악 movie // 영화 art // 예술; 미술

B E V E R A G E S || 음 료 coffee // 커피 tea // 차 wine // 와인; 포도주 beer // 맥주 juice // 주�� water // 물 milk // 우유 beverage // 음료

B O D Y || 몸 head // 머리 neck // 목 face // 얼굴 beard // 수염 hair // 머리카락 eye // 눈 mouth // 입 lip // 입술 nose // 코 tooth // 이; 치아 ear // 귀 tear (drop) // 눈물 tongue // 혀 back // 등 toe // 발가락 finger // 손가락 foot // 발 hand // 손 leg // 다리 arm // 팔 shoulder // 어깨 heart // 심장 blood // 피 brain // 뇌 knee // 무릎 sweat // 땀 disease // 질병 bone // 뼈 voice // 목소리 skin // 피부 body // 몸

C L O T H I N G || 옷 hat // 모자 dress // 원피스; 드레스 suit // 양복 skirt // 치마 shirt // 셔츠 t-shirt // 티셔츠 pants // 바지 shoes // 신발 pocket // 주머니 coat // 코트 stain // 얼룩 clothing // 옷

C O L O R S || 색 깔 red // 빨간(색) green // 초록색 blue // 파란(색) yellow // 노란(색) brown // 갈색 pink // 분홍색; 핑크색 orange // 주황색 black // 검은(색) white // 하얀(색); 흰색 gray // 회색 color // 색깔

D A Y S O F T H E W E E K || 요 일 monday // 월요일 tuesday // 화요일 wednesday // 수요일 thursday // 목요일 friday // 금요일 saturday // 토요일 sunday // 일요일

D I R E C T I O N S || 방 향 top // 위 bottom // 밑 side // 옆 front // 앞 back // 뒤 outside // 밖 inside // 안 up // 위 down // 아래 left // 왼쪽 right // 오른쪽 straight // 직진 north // 북쪽 south // 남쪽 east // 동쪽 west // 서쪽 direction // 방향

E L E C T R O N I C S || 전 자 제 품 clock // 시계 lamp // 전등 fan // 선풍기 cell phone // 휴대폰; 핸드폰 network // 네트워크 computer // 컴퓨터 (computer) program // 컴퓨터 프로그램 laptop // 노트북 screen // 컴퓨터 화면 camera // 카메라 television // 텔레비전; 티비 radio // 라디오

F O O D S || 음 식 egg // 달걀; 계란 cheese // 치즈 bread // 빵 soup // 국; 수프 cake // 케이크 chicken // 닭고기 pork // 돼지고기 beef // 소고기 apple // 사과 banana // 바나나 orange // 오렌지 lemon // 레몬 corn // 옥수수 rice // 쌀; 밥 oil // 기름 seed // 씨 knife // 칼 spoon // 숟가락 fork // 포크 plate // 접시 cup // 컵 breakfast // 아침 lunch // 점심 dinner // 저녁 sugar // 설탕 salt // 소금 bottle // 병 food // 음식

H O M E || 집 table // 식탁; 탁자 chair // 의자 bed // 침대 dream // 꿈 window // 창문 door // 문 bedroom // 침실 kitchen // 부엌; 주방 bathroom // 욕실; 화장실 pencil // 연필 pen // 펜 photograph // 사진 soap // 비누 book // 책 page // 페이지 key // 열쇠 paint // 물감 letter // 편지 note // 메모 wall // 벽 paper // 종이 floor // 바닥 ceiling // 천장 roof // 지붕 pool // 수영장 lock // 자물쇠 telephone // 전화 garden // 정원 yard // 마당 needle // 바늘 bag // 가방 box // 상자 gift // 선물 card // 카드 ring // 반지 tool // 도구

J O B S || 직 업 teacher // 선생님 student // 학생 lawyer // 변호사 doctor // 의사 patient // 환자 waiter // 웨이터; 종업원 secretary // 비서 priest // 성직자; 사제 police // 경찰 army // 군대 soldier // 군인 artist // 화가 author // 작가 manager // 부장님 reporter // 기자 actor // 배우 job // 직업

L O C A T I O N S || 위 치 city // 도시 house // 집 apartment // 아파트 street/road // 길; 거리 airport // 공항 train station // 기차역 bridge // 다리 hotel // 호텔 restaurant // 식당; 레스토랑 farm // 농장 court // 법원 school // 학교 office // 사무실 room // 방 town // 마을 university // 대학교 club // 클럽 bar // 술집; 바 park // 공원 camp // 야영지 store/shop // 가게 theatre // 극장; 영화관 library // 도서관 hospital // 병원 church // 교회 market // 시장 country (usa, france, etc.) // 국가; 나라 building // 건물 ground // 땅 (outer) space // 우주 공간 bank // 은행 location // 위치

M A T E R I A L S || 재 료 glass // 유리 metal // 금속 plastic // 플라스틱 wood // 나무 stone // 돌 diamond // 다이아몬드 clay // 점토 dust // 먼지 gold // 금 copper // 구리 silver // 은 material // 재료

M A T H / M E A S U R E M E N T S || 수 학 / 측 정 meter // 미터 centimeter // 센티미터 kilogram // 킬로그램 inch // 인치 foot // 풋 pound // 파운드 half // 반 circle // 원형 square // 정사각형 temperature // 온도 date // 날짜 weight // 중량 edge // 가장자리 corner // 모퉁이

M I S C E L L A N E O U S || 잡 동 사 니 map // 지도 dot // 점 consonant // 자음 vowel // 모음 light // 빛 sound // 소리 yes // 네 no // 아니요 piece // 조각 pain // 아픔; 통증 injury // 부상 hole // 구멍 image // 이미지 pattern // 양식; 패턴 noun // 명사 verb // 동사 adjective // 형용사

M O N T H S || 달 january // 1월 (일월) february // 2월 (이월) march // 3월 (삼월) april // 4월 (사월) may // 5월 (오월) june // 6월 (유월) july // 7월 (칠월) august // 8월 (팔월) september // 9월 (구월) october // 10월 (시월) november // 11월 (십일월) december // 12월 (십이월)

N A T U R E || 자 연 sea // 바다 ocean // 대양 river // 강 mountain // 산 rain // 비 snow // 눈 tree // 나무 sun // 태양 moon // 달 world // 세계 the earth // 지구 forest // 숲 sky // 하늘 plant // 식물 wind // 바람 soil/earth // 흙 flower // 꽃 valley // 계곡 root // 뿌리 lake // 호수 star // 별 grass // 풀 leaf // 잎 air // 공기 sand // 모래 beach // 해변 wave // 파도 fire // 불 ice // 얼음 island // 섬 hill // 언덕 heat // 열 nature // 자연

N U M B E R S || 숫 자 0 // 공; 영 1 // 하나; 일 2 // 둘; 이 3 // 셋; 삼 4 // 넷; 사 5 // 다섯; 오 6 // 여섯; 육 7 // 일곱; 칠 8 // 여덟; 팔 9 // 아홉; 구 10 // 열; 십 11 // 열하나; 십일 12 // 열둘; 십이 13 // 열셋; 십삼 14 // 열넷; 십사 15 // 열다섯; 십오 16 // 열여섯; 십육 17 // 열일곱; 십칠 18 // 열여덟; 십팔 19 // 열아홉; 십구 20 // 스물; 이십 21 // 스물하나; 이십일 22 // 스물둘; 이십이 30 // 서른; 삼십 31 // 서른하나; 삼십일서른 32 // 서른둘; 삼십이 40 // 마흔; 사십 41 // 마흔하나; 사십일 42 // 마흔둘; 사십이 50 // 쉰; 오십 51 // 쉰하나; 오십일 52 // 쉰둘; 오십이 60 // 예순; 육십 61 // 예순하나; 육십일 62 // 예순둘; 육십이 70 // 일흔; 칠십 71 // 일흔하나; 칠십일 72 // 일흔둘; 칠십이 80 // 여든; 팔십 81 // 여든하나; 팔십일 82 // 여든둘; 팔십이 90 // 아흔; 구십 91 // 아흔하나; 구십일 92 // 아흔둘; 구십이 100 // 백 101 // 백일 102 // 백이 110 // 백십 111 // 백십일 1000 // 천 1001 // 천일 10000 // 만 100000 // 십만 1 million // 백만 1 billion // 십억 1st // 첫 번째 2nd // 두 번째 3rd // 세 번째 4th // 네 번째 5th // 다섯 번째 number // 숫자; 수사

P E O P L E || 사 람 들 son // 아들 daughter // 딸 mother // 어머니 father // 아버지 parent // 부모 baby // 아기; 애기 man // 남자 woman // 여자 brother // 오빠; 형; 남동생 sister // 언니; 누나; 여동생 family // 가족 grandfather // 할아버지 grandmother // 할머니 husband // 남편 wife // 아내; 와이프 king // 왕 queen // 여왕; 왕비 president // 대통령 neighbor // 이웃 boy // 소년 girl // 소녀 child // 아이; 어린이; 애 adult // 성인 human // 인간 friend // 친구 victim // 피해자 player // 선수 fan // 팬 crowd // 군중 person // 사람

P R O N O U N S || 대 명 사 I // 저; 나 you (singular) // 당신; 자네; 너 he // 그 she // 그녀 it // 그것 we // 저��; 우리 you (plural) // 당신들; 너희들; 여러분 they // 그들

S E A S O N S || 계 절 summer // 여름 spring // 봄 winter // 겨울 fall/autumn // 가을 season // 계절

S O C I E T Y || 사 회 religion // 종교 heaven // 천국 hell // 지옥 death // 죽음 medicine // 약 money // 돈 dollar // 달러 bill // 계산서 marriage // 결혼 wedding // 결혼식 team // 팀 race (ethnicity) // 민족 sex (the act) // 섹스; 성교 sex (gender) // 성별 murder // 살인 prison // 감옥 technology // 기술 energy // 에너지; 정력 war // 전쟁 peace // 평화 attack // 공격 election // 선거 magazine // 잡지 newspaper // 신문 poison // 독 gun // 총 sport // 스포츠 race (sport) // 경주 exercise // 운동 ball // 공 game // 게임; 경기 price // 가격; 값 contract // 계약서 drug // 마약 sign // 신호 science // 과학 God // 하나님; 하느님; 신

T I M E || 시 간 year // 해 month // 달 week // 주 day // 하루; 날 hour // 시간 minute // 분 second // 초 morning // 아침 afternoon // 오후 evening // 저녁 night // 밤 time // 시간

T R A N S P O R T A T I O N || 교 통 수 단 train // 기차 plane // 비행기 car // (자동)차 truck // 트럭 bicycle // 자전거 bus // 버스 boat // 배 ship // 배 tire // 타이어 gasoline // 휘발유 engine // 엔진 (train) ticket // 표 transportation // 교통수단

V E R B S || 동 사 to work // 일하다 to play // 놀다 to run // 뛰다; 달리다 to drive // 운전하다 to fly // 날다 to swim // 수영하다 to go // 가다 to stop // 멈추다; 그만하다 to follow // 따르다 to think // 생각하다 to speak/say // 말하다 to eat // 먹다 to drink // 마시다 to kill // 죽이다 to die // 죽다 to smile // 웃다 to laugh // 웃다 to cry // 울다 to buy // 사다 to pay // 내다; 결제하다 to sell // 팔다 to shoot (a gun) // 쏘다 to learn // 배우다 to jump // 뛰다 to smell // 냄새를 맡다 to hear (a sound) // 듣다 to listen (to music) // 듣다 to taste // 맛보다 to touch // 만지다 to see (a bird) // 보다 to watch (tv) // 보다 to kiss // 뽀뽀하다; 키스하다 to burn // 타다 to melt // 녹다 to dig // 파다 to explode // 폭발하다 to sit // 앉다 to stand // 서다 to love // 사랑하다 to pass by // 지나가다 to cut // 자르다 to fight // 싸우다 to lie down // 눕다 to dance // 춤을 추다 to sleep // 자다 to wake up // 일어나다 to sing // 노래하다 to count // 세다 to marry // 결혼하다 to pray // 기도하다 to win // 이기다 to lose // 지다; 잃어버리다 to mix/stir // 섞다; 젓다 to bend // 구부리다 to wash // 씻다 to cook // 요리하다 to open // 열다 to close // 닫다 to write // 쓰다; 적다 to call // 부르다; 전화하다 to turn // 돌리다 to build // 짓다 to teach // 가르치다 to grow // 자라다 to draw // 그리다 to feed // 먹이다 to catch // 잡다 to throw // 던지다 to clean // 청소하다 to find // 찾다 to fall // 떨어지다 to push // 밀다 to pull // 당기다 to carry // 나르다 to break // 부서지다; 깨다 to wear // 입다; 신다; 쓰다; 매다; 끼다; 차다 to hang // 걸다; 매달다 to shake // 흔들다 to sign // 서명하다; 사인하다 to beat // 치다 to lift // 올리다

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