as you all get ready to go into your breaks, remember to actually take a break.
I’ve seen some posts reminding you to do so, but I’ve also seen some posts saying you need to be productive.
But here’s the thing: productivity doesn’t always equal homework or studying.
Hanging out with your friends is productive. Watching a show you enjoy is productive. Doing yoga is productive. Reading a book for fun is productive. Going with your mom to a yard sale is productive. Taking a nap is productive.
So while you’re on spring break, I challenge you to be productive without doing any school work that isn’t due immediately. Sleep in. Stay out late with your friends. Watch some netflix. Redecorate your room. Take the break that you deserve and make the most of the week that you have off. There is so much more to life than school, and sometimes the most productive thing you can do is to do nothing at all.
1) “Why the hell is your chair in my yard?”
2) “That’s my book.”
3) “I love you too. Now please help me with this bullet wound.”
4) “That’s my coffee.”
5) “Yes. I speak Latin.”
6) “We had a small explosion.”
7) “I just want to hear your voice.”
8) “Yes. I know we’re stuck in an elevator.”
9) “Why did the train stop?”
10) “What type of candle should I get?”
11) “Shut up. Help me out of the damn well.”
12) “That was my favorite shirt!”
13) “Yes. I brought puppies home.”
14) “I know this is weird. But can I take a photo of you?”
15) “Don’t ask. Just take the damn rooster.”
16) “Please explain why there’s a clown on our couch.”
17) “Stop getting crumbs all over my bed.”
18) “It’s 2AM, you want me to do WHAT?”
19) “I swear I had no idea it was your cat.”
20) “The shop is closed. Oh wait your hot. Come on in.”
21) “Yes. I’m aware the curtains are on fire.”
22) “I swear I didn’t pick the furniture.”
23) “I can’t loose you. I can’t.”
24) “I miss you way too much.”
25) “Okay so maybe I should have picked a different movie.”
26) “I hate Valentine’s Day.”
27) “Okay so maybe we’re both lost. But at least we can look at the lights?”
28) “I need to not be stuck in a romantic movie.”
29) “It’s three AM for god’s sake.”
30) “how did we get here?”
31) “What’s with the fancy outfit?”
32) “Cuddle. Now.”
Thought you guys might want a short prompt list. Just request/message me one or more of the numbers and fandom and character :)
“Commandant notified. All ships notified to increase security watch; Civilian Guard Armed and all visitors cleared from yard, 1600 Stationed Civilian Guard (armed) on Yd post Office, 1500 All visitors barred from N.Yard, Guard doubled at pump House, Power house, civilian Guards on Gates, Pump House, & Power House armed, Browning Aut Rifle placed at Pump House & power House.”
Thousands of miles away from Pearl Harbor, sailors in Massachusetts were reacting to the Japanese attack. This entry from the log book for the Boston Navy Yard notes the measure that were taken when news of the attack arrived at 2:30 pm ET.
Image: Log entry from Record Group 181 Boston Navy Yard, Commandant’s Log, 7 December 1941. National Archives ID 1175011. (Transcription by Joseph Keefe, archives specialist at the National Archives at Boston.)
Tonight I’m taking a look back at an underrated classic: The No Home Boys Graphic Novel Adapation. In 1965, the author of the No Home Boys, Dustylegs Jefferson, died tragically when he was hit by a train full of circus animals at a book signing in active train yard. Many feared Dustylegs death also meant the death of the beloved book series. But a mere three decades later, the publishing wing of the Railroad Workers Union picked up the franchise and began releasing new stories in a slick graphic novel format.
Some fans turned up their noses at the new adventures of the No Home Boys. The old series was a down to earth travelogue - a gritty portrayal of growing up during the Great Depression. The new series was full of magic demons, talking animals and ninjas. Sure it didn’t have the same campfire charm, but the expanded “Hoboverse” had much more character development and backstory for readers to sink their teeth into.
This was supposed to be for Day Five (Ghosts) of @csfanfictions Spoopy Week. I’m late! But still Happy Halloween. I apologize in advance for the angst.
The cold bite of the October air sent shivers up Emma’s spine as she made her way to the clearing. The trees spoke to each other in rustles and creaks as the last of their leaves clung to the branches. The moonlight danced along the path with each shudder of wind and shift in the clouds. She walked in silence her mind focused on her goal, her hands clenched tight around the objects needed for the spell.
Back in town kids in costumes laughed as they weaved through the streets with bags of hard-earned candy clutched in their hands. Henry, too old for trick-or-treating, had volunteered to pass out candy while Robin and Regina took a Superman dressed Roland around the neighborhood. Mom and Dad were taking baby Neal to a few places in his Yoda costume before joining the main party at Granny’s. Everyone was happy and safe all because of him. Nobody had asked Emma what she was doing for Halloween and she hadn’t offered to tell.
She stepped into the clearing and strode to the stone in the center. It seemed a lifetime since she had last stood here, clutching Killian’s hand as Regina freed the fairies. She settled the long thin white candle on the stone as a gust of wind lifted the leaves and swirled them about her long white skirt. She had told everyone that her Camelot dress was a costume but she had worn it just for him. She opened the flask of rum and poured it over the candle and stone dousing them both with the drink he loved best. The book had said she needed a food to call to the spirit and she could think of no better offering.
She stepped away. A twig snapped and she spun, her white cape fluttering behind her. Her eyes searched the dark but there was nothing, she was alone. She had been alone since the day the Darkness was defeated.
All magic comes with a price and Killian had paid it. What price would she pay for tonight?
Her hand closed around the ring hanging from her neck. She had tried to wear it but it didn’t fit. She had never realized how big his hands were.
She took a deep breath and used her magic to ignite the soul light. It burst into a vibrant, flickering blue, the precise color of his eyes. She clutched the ring tighter and focused on the light and on him.
“Killian, come back to me.” She whispered it over and over until it became a plea, a prayer, an incantation, pulling him from the depths where his spirit dwelt. “Killian, come back to me.”
The soul light grew brighter, flooding the clearing, bathing it in an ethereal blue and still she called to him. Belle had said it was a long shot, even though it was Samhain when the barrier between worlds was thinnest he might not be able to find her or to break through. Emma knew better. She knew that if she could open a door he would fight tooth and nail to step through it.
“Did you miss me?”
Emma spun toward the voice. He glowed blue like the rest of the clearing but in every other way seemed the same as when he had left her. When he had paid the price. He grinned and his smile thawed the cold that had frozen over her heart.
“Killian,” she breathed before running toward him her dress flapping about her feet. He held up a hand and she skidded to a stop just short of him her body screamed at her to reach for him but she waited.
“I can't…” She knew what he was going to say. That the living can’t touch the dead that it would kill her (she sometimes wished for death but wouldn’t dishonor his sacrifice or leave her son).
“Killian, we can.”
She reached for his hand. He was cold to the touch with no blood or bones to warm him or give him substance it was like touching a cloud. But as his fingers intertwined with hers he grew more solid, her life bleeding into him and warming him before her eyes.
“Bloody hell,” he choked out. “How?”
She stepped closer her hand reaching to caress his cheek, his hair. “It only works tonight and only as long as the soul light glows.” She wanted to explain how she had spent every day since his departure (she refused to call it death) searching for a way to bring him back, to see him again. She wanted to tell him how she could have contacted him months ago but that they wouldn’t have been able to touch or really talk and so she had waited, week after agonizing week, for this day, this night.
She didn’t get a chance to explain any of it because his lips were suddenly on hers. The cold made her gasp and his hands left goosebumps in their wake but in every other way it was perfect. She was home.
She pulled away from him gasping for breath. He had no lungs and so continued his ministrations along her jaw and neck. His hands slid down to her waist and over her belly. He pulled back in shock.
“Emma?” He looked at her stomach and his hands splayed over it. In the last weeks it had swollen, her bump becoming more pronounced though not visible in the right clothes. She reached down and tangled their fingers together.
“You are going to have a daughter.”
Emma didn’t think ghosts could cry. She was wrong.
He kissed her again this time soft and slow. The candle was half gone already.
He asked about her and she told him all that he had missed since the day he had ceased to be alive. She focused on the bright and happy things and he laughed and smiled with her. He told her little about his world more interested in the living than the dead.
Somewhere music started to play; a slow and ephemeral melody bouncing through the clearing.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Music from my world,” he murmured in her hair. Wordlessly they began to sway and the music swelled filling the clearing, pulling it further into the Otherworld. From his shoulder Emma could dimly see other spirits watching them. Two men and a woman, the family resemblance was uncanny, and she wished they could talk but the spell only worked for one soul.
The light around them pulsed and Emma’s eyes flew to the candle; it was guttering, the magic nearly spent.
She pulled away, finding his eyes, desperate to tell him one more time. “I love you Killian Jones.” There was no time to tell him anything else and she wished her love was strong enough to bring him back and keep him with her.
She tried to pull him in for a kiss but her hands went numb with cold as they slipped through his form.
“No!” He was growing paler; dissipating before her eyes. The candle went out and the clearing returned to darkness.
“Killian!” She was losing him again.
The moonlight shone through him as he lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. She felt only a cool breeze caress her and when she blinked he was gone. One hand reached for his ring and the other rested on her stomach as tears poured down her face, fast and hot.
“I love you Swan.” His voice echoed around her, a far away call from another world.