Day 166/365: June 15th 2017 | Group Afternoon Tea @ Adorabelle
The weather was ridiculously cold and rainy today. >_< Steveston was so far from my house… I was on the bus for almost 40 minutes before I’d arrived at the tea room!! Afternoon tea with Charmy, Vicky, and Rachel went well~ the server was really (!!!!) kind to us… such nice service!! I had the London black tea (cue me not being able to fall asleep later JSHKJHFJKHSKGKGG I HATE ME) and there was so much food (sandwiches, scones, pastries, desserts etc)!! I was SOOO full by the end. I literally did not feel hungry until 10pm (the tea was at 3:30 HAHAHA). After high tea, I walked around RC with Rachel (didn’t buy anything — I was too tired lololol and we literally spent 30 minutes inside Indigo RIP I WAS SO BORED T_T).
It’d been a late start to their day, as to be expected. Clark didn’t feel as compelled to NOT laze around until mid-afternoon and Jacket could be relied on to not want to rise as well.
“Mmm, I was thinkin’– I didn’t plan for it, but we should have a picnic.” mumbled as he held his mug of coffee securely in his hands. “I can go grab some things from the store back home that we don’t have here…” a sip.
“Maybe you can even stretch your legs some after.” he gave an expectant look. “Like, your other legs. There’s no one around. Plenty of room. Have you been able to wolf-out durin’ the day ever? Outside, as well?”
Anon: If you’re still doing them, could you do number 83 from the ways to say I love you list?
as you wish. :)
p.s. I tried doing some research on how the london underground / bus system works, but all I managed to do was make myself very confused (also it was never stated where simon and penny’s flat is so ? train / bus schedules and stuff ???).
basically I just went by my general knowledge of these things (which could be crap) and wrote. so, i’m sorry if there are any mistakes. please excuse my foreign person ignorance. enjoy.
83. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”
It’s dark out by the time our assignment is done. My group members – two guys named Luke and James, and a weedy girl named Mia – live in the same area of London, so they all decide to hitch a ride back in James’s car. James takes the completed project back with him; he’ll hand it in to the professor tomorrow.
They’d offered to send me home too, but I told them that I’d be fine. Mine and Penny’s apartment was a little too out of their way, and I didn’t want them to be driving in circles. Besides, London has a perfectly good underground system.
The last train back to our place leaves at eleven. Which should be fine. I’ll just stay back at the café the bunch of us met up in and finish some of my other college work before going home.
I’ve just finished my History assignment when one of the waitresses taps me on the shoulder. I look up at her.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir,” she says, “but we’re closing the shop now.”
Already? I frown and check my phone.
11:15 PM. Merlin and Morgana.
“Thanks,” I tell her, hurriedly packing all my stuff back into my bag. I’m out the door in a minute.
There’s hardly anyone left on the streets. Some guys seem to be having a scuffle at a pub down the road, and there’s a middle-aged lady walking up the street talking into her phone, but besides them, I’m alone.
I sigh and take out my phone from my pocket. If I missed the last train, then my only other option is to get a night bus back to our flat. The problem is, I don’t know where the nearest bus stop is. This part of London is unfamiliar to me.
I’ll just ask Penelope. Or Baz. No, not Baz; he told me he’d be studying the whole evening. He’s probably already asleep. And tired.
Maybe I could just fly home…
I call Penelope. It rings three times. Four times. Five. But she doesn’t pick up. Maybe she’s asleep too. I guess I don’t have a choice then.
Baz picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” he says. His voice is husky and laced with sleep.
“Baz. Sorry. Were you asleep?”
“Yeah,” he says, and I feel bad. “It’s okay. What is it?”
“Uh – listen, I kind of missed the last train back to our apartment, and I’m not sure where to find a bus stop from here…”
“You’re still at the café?” he asks.
“Yeah. I mean, I’m outside the café now. They’re closed.”
“Where are you, exactly? Do you know?”
I read out the street sign to him, and then I hear shuffling on the other end.
“Okay,” he says. “I’m on my way.”
I blink. “What – Baz, no. I just need directions to a bus stop. What are you doing?”
“First of all, I can’t give you directions because I don’t know how to. I’ve rarely gone to that part of town. I just know how to get there. And secondly, it’s a half hour to midnight. I’m not letting you go back on your own.”
He cuts me off. “Simon, don’t be an idiot. Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”
I sigh. There’s no use fighting with Baz once he’s decided on something. “Fine,” I mutter.
He hangs up, and I find a bench to sit on while waiting for him.
Baz pulls up in his car ten minutes later. I get off the bench, and he leans over and opens the passenger side door for me.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I say as I slide into the seat.
“Don’t be stupid,” he says. “Of course I did.” He’s wearing the same shirt I saw him in this afternoon, and a jacket he must have thrown on, on the way here. His hair falls messily around his face.
He pulls out onto the road, and I search for his hand, squeezing it when I find it. “Thank you,” I say.
He threads his fingers through mine and squeezes back. “Don’t mention it.”
We drive for a while, talking about our day and Baz’s finals next week. Then he asks, “Do you want to go back to your apartment?”
I look at him. “Where else would I go?”
He raises an eyebrow, but keeps his eyes on the road. He knocks his elbow into mine. “We could go back to mine,” he says, almost shyly. “If you want to.”
A small grin slowly grows on my face, and I nod. “Okay.”
He nods, too, turning briefly to smile at me. “Okay,” he says.
I turn away and look out the window. The city lights whiz past us in blurs of yellow and blue and green.
Despite her usual upbeat demeanor in her first classes of the day, Lily was not by definition a “morning person.” After her alarm went off, pounding in her brain, she practically fell out of bed attempting to get up. She was a groaning, bedraggled mess until after a hot shower or at least half a cup of tea.
Unlike her entire 7 o’clock class - who acted like zombies every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday - she paid rapt attention, as she was not wasting the several thousand dollars she was paying for her university education because of the early hour. She nursed her tumbler of tea (a nice strong English Breakfast, with a bit of honey) and took notes in her own short-hand.
For the most part, her classmates were fairly indistinguishable in their unspoken uniform: hoodies pulled over, baggy sweats, poorly tied trainers with a large coffee or poison in a can. Most had their chins barely propped up over their folded-over arms, barely taking notes (or as she had come to suspect, sleep-typing).
So when a guy stumbled into a seat beside her in the lecture hall one particularly grueling Monday morning, coffee in hand, she thought nothing of it. His hair was bed-messy like his kin, and his glasses were fittingly askew. However, instead of his Macbook coming out of his messenger bag after he reached inside, a garishly neon energy drink came out.
#5 of the meetcute werewolf prompts is the funniest image ever omg
Oh my god, I love your icon! Anyway:
My dog goes nuts every time she sees you and this time she got off the
leash and tore after you, except now you’re both barking at each other
and I’m not sure what to do. (also on ao3)
Stiles had a routine.
Every morning he woke up at seven thirty to shower, brush his teeth, and get dressed in time to head to his first class of the day, always allotting enough time to stop by his favorite local bakery and grab a coffee on his way to school. From nine to one he was in class, only ten to twelve on Wednesdays with the weekends off, afterwards heading straight to the station to bring his dad some lunch and help the rookie deputies file some paperwork, in the process racking up valuable community service hours.
After lunch was his favorite part of the day. He’d take Blake, the sheriff’s station’s new resident canine mascot, a solid black German shepherd, for a long walk through the nearby memorial park.
Sometimes they would just stroll through the park, take a nice leisurely walk after a long, stressful day. Other times they would stop to play fetch, using sticks or tennis balls or whatever else they could find, spending hours playing with other people and their dogs.
So, with both his AP psychology and Mythology and Folklore Studies classes cancelled on Friday, he drove in to the station with his dad in the morning, a bag of tennis balls in the backseat of the cruiser. He hoped to finish up his duties at the station early and take Blake to the park ahead of schedule, praying Hot Leather Jacket Guy™ wasn’t there yet.
Every time he took Blake to the park, usually around three in the afternoon, Hot Leather Jacket Guy―or HLJG for short―was there, typically sitting on a park bench reading books or magazines, minding his own business. He was easily the most beautiful person Stiles had ever seen, of any gender or lack thereof, with his perfectly sculpted stubble and thick black hair that Stiles wanted to bury his hands in.
He also seemed extremely nice. Stiles had seen him escorting lost children back to their parents and rescuing kites and kittens stuck in trees. Stiles had nearly gone into cardiac arrest when he saw HLJG strip off his leather jacket to wrap it around a teeny tiny white kitten he’d somehow scooped out of a storm drain.
Yet, for whatever unfathomable reason, Blake absolutely hated him.
Every time they meandered through the park and Blake caught sight of HLJG he launched into the canine equivalent of histrionics, without fail. He would bark incessantly, whine dramatically as he planted his butt down on the walking path and refused to budge, even glare at the poor guy.
Stiles apologized every time it happened, Blake’s loud barking usually startling HLJG as he tried to read, promising it wouldn’t happen again even though they both knew it most certainly would. HLJG always took it in stride, shrugging it off with a dogs will be dogs attitude, smiling brightly enough to make Stiles’ heart skip a beat.
Hoping for the best, Stiles grabbed Blake’s leash off its designated hook by the door of the Sheriff’s office as soon as he was done sorting through and filing old cold case files, filling Parrish in on how their filing system worked. Bidding the deputies goodbye for the time being, he hooked Blake up to his leash and started out to the park, crossing his fingers as he jogged across the street with Blake at his side.
For the first half of their walk things were perfectly fine. Blake curiously sniffed around the flower beds of bright goldenrod and purple monkshood, peed on a handful of trees, even flirted with a cute poodle by the wishing fountain.
All in all, it was a looking to be a pretty good day. Until Blake caught sight of HLJG.
Of all the days for her to have forgotten her jacket, it would be this one. The past week had been unseasonably warm for early October in Maine, and when Neal had dropped her off at work early that afternoon, she’d left her jacket behind in the back of his car.
But now it was a quarter til eight p.m., and a cold Northeastern wind had started to pick up, bringing with it the bite of autumn and the promise of rain. Emma had locked up the shop and set the alarm, figuring that Neal would be waiting to take her home when she got done.
He wasn’t waiting outside in the little yellow bug when Emma exited the building, which was strange – he was usually right on time when she had to work late, this wasn’t exactly the nicest part of town. She checked her phone, to see if she had any missed calls, but there were none. She hit dial to call him, letting it ring til his voicemail picked up. Sighing, she flipped it closed again, hugging her arms around her chest. She couldn’t go back inside without tripping the security system, so she’d just have to tough it out til he showed up. It wasn’t the first time this had happened.
She glanced down at her watch then – it was five after eight, and still no sign of Neal, plus, she could feel the first raindrops starting to fall. She tried calling his phone again, leaving a voice mail saying that she hoped nothing bad had happened, but knowing him, he’d just lost track of time. After that, though, she knew there was no choice. She was gonna have to walk the fifteen or so blocks home, and hope to God she made it before the rain really started.
She made it about five blocks, before the sky just opened up. With a little shriek, she darted under one of the shade trees that lined the street, not that it did any good. “Fuck my life,” she muttered irritably, pulling out her phone to try and call Neal again. The message she left this time was a lot crankier, and she snapped her phone shut angrily before shoving it back in her purse. She had just barely begun walking again, when a slightly beat-up looking sedan pulled up alongside the curb.
I don’t mean to be obnoxious with all these belly pictures, but 1) today marks 25 weeks so official photo is due, and 2) I’m so Tumblr today. Chambray shirt, leggings, leopard belt and flats, gold prism stud earrings, (leftover) curled hair and black J. Crew field jacket.
This afternoon we are meeting other friends and their baby girl for brunch, which is also ‘so Tumblr’.