summary: where you and joe try something a bit different
word count: 919
A/N: this is some fluffy ass shit, enjoy! x
It was Joe’s idea, something he had found in the hours he spent scrolling through his timeline instead of working on his latest projects. You figured it was time to try something new, considering most days were spent lounging on Joe’s couch nowadays. It was rare you two ventured out from your usual places anymore. Even though you hated surprises, it was near impossible to tell him no when you heard the enthusiasm in his voice as he pitched the idea the week before. As long as you were spending time with him, anything would be more than enough.
“Heads is right, tails is left,” Joe repeated once more, “and no cheating.” He turned over to look at you in the passenger seat, grinning with excitement. His hair was still slightly damp when he put the keys in the ignition.
“Ready?” you asked, adjusting your seatbelt. You began to warm up the coin between your hands. It was just a penny leftover from your last holiday in the states. But now, it would determine the rest of the night. A coin only worth one cent seemed a lot more powerful in that moment than it had just a few hours prior.
“Do you even know me? Of course I’m ready, I’ve been waiting all week for this,” he joked, peering over his shoulder before pressing the gas, pulling the car out of the spot.
London was finally warm that evening. It was something you had been yearning for ever since the first snowflake of the winter season hit the concrete outside of your bedroom window. The stars were brighter than usual, and you gazed up at the moon as you two drove towards the first intersection.
The copper coin flipped around in the air, and you observed it attentively. When it fell back into your palm, it was heads up.
“Make a right up here,” you spoke, pointing in the direction just in case Joe confused himself, which happened quite often. He obliged, and you turned down a dark road. “Watch this end up taking us to some abandoned shack or to an ax murderer’s house.”
“Well, I do love a good horror movie, love, it’d be fun to actually live one,” he responded sarcastically. You playfully rolled your eyes before turning your attention back to the window.
The radio was playing the most soothing song, but one you had never heard before. Joe was softly humming the melody beside you. The perfect collection of sounds set your mind at ease, and you remembered that any place you wound up would end up working out. One turn down, nine more to go.
After numerous twists and turns down unfamiliar avenues, and what felt like hours of driving around aimlessly, you found yourselves at the corner of a strip of trees, circled by newly sprouted lilies.
“You sure you didn’t rig it? This place is absolutely incredible. How did we not know this was here?” Joe said as he shut the car off, amazed at the view in front of him.
“I guess I’m just really good at coin flipping,” you responded, placing the penny in the cup holder next to you.
The two of you stepped out of the car, using the moonlight as your guide towards the flowers and the small pond just beyond the largest tree in sight. You and Joe walked slowly hand in hand, the grass gently poking you through the slits of your sandals.
“Remind me to take some of these before we leave,” you voiced, leaning towards the patches of white petals at your feet.
“I know they’re your favorite, love. Remember that time I accidentally bought them for you instead of roses when we first started dating? You were so happy you were on the verge of tears,” he laughed. That had been just over a year ago, but the time seemed to have flown by. You guessed it all went by faster when you spent everyday with someone who was the best part of yourself.
Turning around to stand face to face with him, you gripped his hand tighter. You were stuck on the idea that he remembered that day, it was such a miniscule part of your relationship, and still, it was fresh in his mind.
“I don’t say it enough, but I really do appreciate everything you do for me. I love you more than you know,” you said, running your thumb over the edges of his cheek.
“I love you more,” he smiled, tilting his head down until his lips met yours. “Do you wanna dance?” Joe asked when the two of you pulled away.
“There’s no music, babe.”
“I can change that, just give it a go.”
With your head pressed against Joe’s chest, he began humming the same song that played in the drive over. It was something like a lullaby, and you smiled softly into the fabric of his shirt. The slightest breeze blew by, making the warmth of his body more welcoming than before.
“All of this thanks to a bloody penny,” you whispered, following the pattern of Joe’s lead.
“And my brilliant ideas.”
You lost track of how long the both of you were dancing around in the grass, counting the stars, and mumbling about how you had to use the penny to plan out every date in the future. It must have been after midnight before you headed back to the car, just after Joe remembered to pick you a few lilies.
I’ve got.. so many paranormal and cryptid experiences it isn’t even funny. But, I feel you’d find it most interesting to hear about “the farm.” This will be long, but informative.
The farm was a small acreage that my father lived at from 2004-2006 (roughly, if my memory serves correctly. I was quite young), a few miles south and slightly west of Cardston, Alberta. For those who don’t know, Cardston has an extremely high Native population, bordering a reserve. I believe this is relevant to my experiences there.
It was a fairly peaceful property. There was a half-rotted barn near the south edge of the “yard,” a copse of trees surrounded the house to the north and west, leaving the south and east fairly open. There was maybe 80-100 feet between the house and the west treeline, and to the north was our fire pit area, next to an old shack. A muddy pond sat beyond the trees, to the northwest, where I had set up a small camp. I liked to go there on sunny days. I avoided being outside alone at night.
This is incredibly interesting. I can safely say I’ve never heard anything quite like it in my life. I have heard of beings that look like trees, or beings that have some of the same characteristics (limbs that look like branches, for example, or being tall and spindly) but I’ve never heard of anything quite like that before. Very unnerving, and incredibly interesting that the “Rules” kept you safe. I’ve always said that a lot of paranormal/supernatural entities seem to operate on sets of rules, but these rules aren’t always immediately obvious and are often highly specific. Children seem very good at picking them up – I know when my children explained why they were doing something as “we just have to” or “it’s a rule”, I didn’t question it.
I absolutely love the detail in this, too. It will definitely help, as I’m rather interested in this and might do a bit of cursory research to see if anything similar has ever happened. Though, as is the way with the paranormal, sometimes the case is so specific and localised that it’s impossible to find anywhere else, which is precisely why I love personal accounts like this. I would be fascinated to hear any other stories you might have.
for the Masquerade prompt from oqweek, a bit delayed but hopefully still readable. au in which regina met robin in the enchanted forest before she became the evil queen.
Their hall tonight is full of pirates and fairies, witches and harlequins, tigers and foxes. The crowd moves under acrobats and among jugglers, dodging the flames of fire eaters and stopping to admire the contortionists the king has brought from exotic faraway lands.
Regina should have known he’d be here.
The king, after all, had announced his intention of having a masquerade costume ball in front of the whole court (he’d announced it to the court and she’d flinched; she had not been given the courtesy of an inkling of his intentions beforehand), and the king might as well have sent a carriage because of course Robin would find a way to be at a ball when it was so indecently proclaimed, so pompously flaunted. When it is such a lavish display, with birds sent out to carry invitations written in golden ink and nobleman coming from far and wide to occupy the many empty rooms of their summer palace.
She’d expected him to be here but still, the sight of him walking in through the main entrance was enough to send her pulse wild. She struggled to keep from fidgeting in her throne, to preserve the illusion of poise even as he made his way across the endless ballroom and bowed low before his king, his princess, his queen.
Since I was about 8 years old, I have had unexplained encounters with the paranormal or spirits, most of which have been positive. A few of these encounters have involved a deceased relative, but that’s a different story.
In the countryside of Western New York, there’s a small cemetery called Goodleburg Cemetery. It is no longer in use and most of the tombstones are crumbling and unreadable, but the ones you can read show that the graves are hundreds of years old. There are many many stories surrounding Goodleburg and people claim that it’s one of the most haunted locations in New York, which attracts many visitors.
One of the legends about Goodleburg says that a doctor who performed illegal abortions used to live in a nearby (now abandoned) house, which accounts for many of the hauntings in the area. People also claim there is a lady in white who roams the grounds.
My last two trips to Goodleburg have been the most eventful. One time I was there taking pictures just before sunset and distant music was playing. It sounded like an organ or a piano. I attributed it to a nearby farmhouse or church, but when I did research on it, people have reported the music over the last few decades and the vast majority have included the fact that they can’t pinpoint or find where the music is coming from.
While I was taking pictures that day, I kept seeing movement out of the corner of my eye. The best sight I caught of the movement was a black shadow darting behind a gravestone. I inspected it, but found nothing. The cemetery is very small and open besides the graves, a stone wall, and some trees. I could not find any evidence of animals that were big enough to fit the size of the shadow I saw.
The last time I was at the cemetery, I was with a few friends in the autumn. Since there was a group of us, we were brave enough to inspect a small pond behind the cemetery and the woods beyond the pond. In the woods beyond the pond, my friends were messing around on a deer stand. The two guys with us had jumped off the stand and ran down the ravine.
Me and a girl friend jogged down the ravine behind the guys. When they came into view, they were standing dead still. They had their arms out behind them as if to protect us from something. One slowly pointed to beyond the trees–that’s when we saw it.
A chill raced down my spine; I remember it clearly. My hair stood on end. On the hill heading towards the cemetery was a balding man dressed in ragged clothing, dragging a shovel behind him. His skin was an odd grayish tone.
Our group of friends looked at each other for a split second and returned our attention to the man. He was gone. We slowly walked up the hill to look out over miles of nearly flat land (that was the direction he was heading in), including the cemetery, and the man had completely disappeared. None of us can explain it to this day, but we all reported having the same feelings of unease when each of us had laid eyes on the man.
Everyone who visits Goodleburg Cemetery seems to have their own story.
three years ago I met a girl for the first time and decided that at that moment I wanted to marry her. two years ago after a period of experimenting with mdma, cocaine, xanax, vicodine, etc etc etc, and just a week after her father’s passing, she threw a bottle of jameson through my apartment window (jameson, I’m sure because we had been sharing it the moment before it flew through my window and because of the little green glass flakes I’d found on the bottom of my shoes for weeks after) and then she disappeared. a year after that, I received a img message from an unknown number while I was sitting in my office space eating a ham sandwich. the image was of a zoo exhibit, more specifically: a grizzly bear floating in a still, artificial pond beyond thick reinforced glass. I knew it was her, and after a week of fucking hell trying to find out which zoo, I discovered she was in s.f. which in her language meant that she was happy and that she missed me. I drove up to s.f. and met her by a wharf filled with barking sea lions. they seemed to cheer our reunion (urf urf urf urf uhhhhghhhh urf urf urf urf). the next day we drove to and through canada where we spent a week hiding from the cold and growing chubby while eating pasta for just about every meal. then we drove down to idaho where we spent a week only speaking to each other pretending to others to be mute or deaf (I don’t think we had definitively settled on one). then back to her new home in s.f. where I dropped her off before an apartment with a walkable rooftop from which her sister was waving down to us with a potted plant in her hands. we said our goodbyes. it took a while.
this year she sent a picture from the botanical gardens at the l.a. zoo. I sent her one back of the view of the parking lot outside my office. she called me a day later. she said she was in my area and wanted to visit. I asked her how she was so sure that I hadn’t moved far far away. she laughed and I heard a knock on my door (it was a pretty cool trick). she told me about her life and I sat with a light head and said to myself this is what it’s like to get a real visitor. she told me about her boyfriend and showed me a picture. he looked kind and I wanted to punch him in the face. she told me about how she was back at school again. biology, she said and I caught myself drawing lines along her pinkie with my pinkie. she mentioned her sister and how she had lost her foot in a bicycling accident involving her bike and two other cars. this was when she started to tear up and cry. she mentioned seeing her in the hospital, mentioned how close to death she might’ve been at one point. I noticed that her make up stayed intact and perfect under all the tears. she got up and went to the bathroom. she came out with her jacket on. she said she had to be going. she had a square of tissue in her hands and she wiped some tears from her face. she asked me how she looked. I told her that she looked beautiful like always.
that night, I went out with some buddies. we got drunker than we wanted to be. miraculously, I ended up at my place. I tossed an empty bottle of whiskey between my hands. I thought about throwing it through the window. I got up. but as I was getting up I lost balance and slipped on a phone bill on the linoleum floor. I hit my head on the seat of a chair. then my nose and teeth kissed the shiny, squishy floor. there was a black pain in my face and head. I sat up and started to bleed chunks of myself out my nose. it gave and it gave and it gave. in the stupor, I might’ve told myself that this kind of feels good. I fell asleep on that floor and dreamt about being in love. by morning when I woke up adorned with dried blood and wearing a heavy hangover, I mumbled to myself that I was cured. it looked and sounded crazy but I knew what I meant.
She walked down a single path that would take her through one of the city parks, away from the rows of buildings and the busy streets. It was cool tonight, but not uncomfortably so, and for that she was grateful. Perhaps she should have brought someone with her, but there was a note on her bed back at the Institute and she had her phone.
Her feet crunched on a few stones as she crossed towards a small bridge and leaned up against its edge. Peered out at what was below. Time ticked away and after a couple minutes she pressed on, eventually stepping off of the path and onto some snow. The grass was beginning to show in some spots. She stopped once she reached a rock, a pond just beyond it. Clary hopped onto the stone and gently guided her backpack down to the ground.
She drew in a sharp breath of air and closed her eyes, letting what little wind there was whip against her face.
Soul Mates | BlackFrost RP | The Widow Natasha | Closed
Loki was a young up and coming artist, born and raised in London. He had arrived in New York a few weeks ago after a Manhattan gallery had expressed interest in his work for an exhibition to feature new painters from the states and abroad. He had two pieces that were going to be displayed in the show. It was the first time that he had ever been across the pond and he was beyond excited. Life was good.
He entered the coffee shop, looking for his morning fix of caffeine. He had been enjoying exploring the city but tonight was the opening of the gallery and the anticipation had kept him up most of the night. He noted the long line as he quickly moved to take his spot. The yanks certainly loved their morning coffee. His dark green eyes falling on the petite woman in front of him. Her dark red curls and sexy backside demanding his full attention. When she turned slightly, he was taken aback by her beauty. He felt his heart literally skip a beat as her sapphire eyes met his. “Ello…. long line, huh?”
Pairing: Ten/Rose Genre: Alternate Universe Rating: Teen. Summary: “The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.” ― C.G. Jung
THE DRIVE BACK to the city felt much longer than it had previously. Traffic was terrible, slowing to a crawling pace at some points, giving them far too much time to sit together in heavy silence. Rose fiddled with her seatbelt and mobile, gazing out the window at the unchanging scenery - bumper stickers and dirty car windows, interspersed with motorway signs she barely registered. The Doctor repeatedly attempted to engage her in conversation, but she resisted him and his cheerful prattle by telling him she was tired and would rather take a nap.
She’d been resisting for so long, it seemed.
Always keeping a step back, barely dipping a cautious toe in the water. But it had been inevitable, hadn’t it? This outcome. Falling in love with the Doctor. Her chatterbox sweetheart - he’d showered her with affection, attention, adoration and all sorts of alliterating words starting with ‘A’ - of course she’d fallen. Fast and hard, for a man who pursued with single-minded devotion yet lacked proper follow through.
I was going to start this after I finished my Beast AU, but changed my mind when the first chapter came to me the other day. This is a Red Riding Hood AU from the deep confines of my mind. Special thanks to eisschirmchen for reading this over and telling me it wasn’t shit :)
Wear the red cape, and you’ll be safe.
Those were the words her grandmother had always told her, but her keep safe from what she never knew. Years had gone by since she was first given the cape with no explanation, but once she turned fifteen, she grew curious. When she poked the elderly woman for more information, the only good that ever came out of it was a snide comment about the cold weather. That the cape would keep her warm, but nothing else. With her parents long gone, Maka had no one else to ask about the mysterious reason behind wearing the long, red cape. So filling in the blanks was left to her own imagination.
When she was younger, Maka liked to pretend the cape was part of a secret pact with the nonexistent wolves that lived in the woods. They were the same, familiar woods she traveled through countless times to go to the next town over. Growing up, her grandmother told her stories about mysterious creatures who liked to devour little girls that lived in there. Once upon time, she believed the elderly woman and her mad stories to the point where the creatures haunted her dreams. Their long claws, big teeth, and large ears followed her as she walked down the path toward the little town, causing her heart to beat wildly.
But, as she grew older and braver, Maka came to realize that there were no such creatures that lived in the woods. The only animals that resided there were the woodland creatures who had always been curious of the blonde girl with the red cape.
It wasn’t until everything about Maka Albarn’s life changed that she finally understood the reason for wearing the red cape.