several stories high

3

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Requested By @jazzrivera27


You frowned as you stood up, arms wrapping around yourself as the streets buzzed around you. A heavy leather jacket fell around your shoulders as someone guided you out of sight of the few early morning city folk and into a warm home that was several stories high.

“Why am I here?” You asked as you turned to the man. He was another wolf, it was clear from the comforting scent. “Are you…”

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you.” Derek hummed happily and smiled when your eyes widened.

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2

hp meme | one/four locations the burrow 

“It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic (which, Harry reminded himself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, THE BURROW.”

MUSICAL LOVE SONGS FOR EACH TYPE

ISTJ: “All I Ask of You”

Character: Raoul de Chagny, The Phantom of the Opera

No more talk of darkness/forget these wide-eyed fears/I’m here, nothing can harm you/my words will warm and calm you

ISTP: “I’ll Cover You”

Character: Tom Collins, Rent

I think they meant it/When they said you can’t buy love/Now I know you can rent it/A new lease you are my love/On life, be my life

ESTP: Singing in the Rain”

Character: Don Lockwood, Singin’ in the Rain

I’m singin in the rain, just singin in the rain/what a glorious feeling I’m happy again/Come on with the rain, I’ve a smile on my face

ESTJ: “Something Good”

Character: Captain Von Trapp

Here you are, standing there, loving me/whether or not you should/so somewhere in my youth/or childhood/I must have done something good

ISFJ: “Hopelessly Devoted to You” 

Character: Sandy Olsson, Grease

But now, there’s nowhere to hide/since you pushed my love aside/I’m out of my head/hopelessly devoted to you/hopelessly devoted to you

ISFP: “Heaven’s Light”

Character: Quasimodo, The Hunchback of Notre Dame

So many times out there/I’ve watched a happy pair of lovers walking in the night/They had a kind of glow around them/It almost looked like heaven’s light

ESFP: “On the Street Where you Live”

Character: Freddy Eynsford Hill, My Fair Lady

I have often walked down this street before/but the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before/all at once am I several stories high/knowing I’m on the street where you live

ESFJ: “I See the Light”

Character: Rapunzel, Tangled

And at last I see the light/and it’s like the fog has lifted/and at last I see the light/and it’s like the sky is new/And it’s warm and real and bright

INFJ: “Under Your Spell”

Character: Tara Maclay, Once More with Feeling

I saw a world enchanted/spirits and charms in the air/I always took for granted/I was the only one there/But your power shone, brighter than any I’d known

INFP: “A Heart Full of Love”

Characters: Marius and Cosette, Les Miserables

A heart full of love/a heart full of song/I’m doing everything all wrong/oh god, for shame, I do not even know your name

ENFP: “Part Of Your World”

Character: Ariel, The Little Mermaid

I don’t know when, I don’t know how, but I know something’s starting right now/Out of the sea, wish I could be/part of your world

ENFJ: “Satisfied”

Character: Angelica Schuyler, Hamilton

And I know/she’ll be happy as his bride/and I know/he will never be satisfied, I will never be satisfied

INTJ: “As Long as You’re Mine”

Character: Elphaba, Wicked

My wildest dreams could not foresee/lying beside you/with you wanting me/and just for this moment/as long as you’re mine/I’ve lost all resistance and crossed some borderline

INTP: “Something There” 

Character: Belle, Beauty and the Beast

New, and a bit alarming/who’d have ever thought that this could be?/True, that he’s no prince charming/but there’s something in him that I simply didn’t see

ENTP: “People” 

Character: Fanny Bryce, Funny Girl

People, People who need people/are the luckiest people in the world/we’re just children, needing other children/and yet letting our grown-up pride/hide all that need inside

ENTJ: “You Must Love Me”

Character: Eva Peron, Evita

Deep in my heart I’m concealing/things that I’m longing today/Scared to approach what I’m feeling/frightened you’ll slip away

10

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets - Chapter Three: The Burrow

“Touchdown!” said Fred as, with a slight bump, they hit the ground. They had landed next to a tumbledown garage in a small yard, and Harry looked out for the first time at Ron’s house.

It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic (which, Harry reminded himself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, the burrow. Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.

“It’s not much,” said Ron.

“It’s wonderful,” said Harry happily, thinking of Privet Drive.

// The Red Room //

[print shop]   [alternate version]

Nous Academy

Summary: Dan’s family has been hiding his secret for fifteen years, but finally the government finds out and sends him to a school with others who are similar. (Phan Superpower AU!)

The building was surrounded by moss covered stone walls and a large steel gate. There was a beautiful fountain that looked a bit newer than the rest of the property in the front. The building itself was several stories high, made of strong granite. It looked like something from a story book of sorts, probably having been built hundreds of years ago.

Dan hated it.

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Dark Streets pt. 3

(Hello! This chapter is longer than the others and I’m hoping that’s a good thing! Here’s hoping! Enjoy! Tell me how you like it!)



It was a couple hours later when she saw Jerome again. (Y/N) had gone through what felt like a totally makeover, that seemed completely unnecessary. She had taken a shower, put on foreign clothes, then Barbara and Tabitha played with her hair till they found something they liked. The makeup they put her in felt strange, and the clothes felt to big and to small all at the same time.

To be fair the girls were nice enough. Given that one of them was a diagnosed psycho, they were actually not that bad to be around. They kept her busy with gossip about Gotham, asking her questions about herself, seeming genuinely interested. (Y/N) was still distant, keeping her answers vague and short. Reminding herself repeatedly of whose company she was in.

When it was all over, they sent her back to the room she first woke up in, leaving her to her own vices. The storm had cleared up, leaving only a few dark clouds watching over the smoggy city/ It was obvious that there was no way out of the building from her room. It was several stories high, if she were to try and escape, it would result in her brains splattered on the sidewalk beneath. So she sat, letting her thoughts keep her company.

“Wow! You’re looking smoking!” Jerome’s voice punctured her thoughts. Her little bubble of quiet, now breached, everything seemed even more all the wrong. (Y/N)’s situation started to come full focus.

“Why am I here?” (Y/N) blurted out.

“Aw, doll, isn’t that a little cliche?” He chuckles advancing closer. “I mean every victim says that.”

“It’s a valid question!” She spits back.

Jerome rolled his eyes, moving closer to sit beside (Y/N) on the bed. He scooted closer. Too shocked to do anything, (Y/N) sat there, anticipating the unpredictability of Jerome. He leaned in, putting his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply. “You’re my little,” He pauses picking at the ends of her hair. “Project.” His mouth pulled into a wide grin.

“I’m not something that can be manipulated to your will.” She bites back at him.

“Oh sweetheart, I think you’ll find that I can.” He quickly leans in, grabbing the back of her neck bring her towards him. Their lips meeting forcefully. (Y/N)’s eyes opened in shock, the sheer disgust of what was happening coming to her. With quick thinking, she bit down on his lip as hard as she could, in hopes that he would stop.

Jerome drew back for a moment, still keeping one hand on her neck, the other coming up to touch his lip. A bit of blood came off onto his finger. “Kinky!” He smiled before bringing her back to kiss her once again. Using all her strength, (Y/N) pushed against his chest, dislodging their current position.

“Fine, enough for now. But later, I expect more later.” Jerome winked making (Y/N) shudder in disgust. He stood up, putting his hand out for her to take. “Come on darling, you need to eat.” He looked down at his, then to her. “I don’t bite.” He winks again.

(Y/N) groans, smacking his hand away before standing up and walking to the door. Not even looking back she opens the door and makes her way down the staircase. The group from earlier had disbanded, Galavan and the others nowhere to be seen, the main floor empty. (Y/N) cautiously walked over to a seat by one of the windows, plopping down and crossing her arms to stare out the window.

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” Jerome called from where he was, rummaging through the fridge.

(Y/N) continued to stare out the window. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of talking to him. If he wanted her, she was going to make it as hard as she could for him to continue liking her.

Jerome let out a groan from the kitchen. “Come on (Y/N). Pouting will get you nowhere. The sooner you accept your situation, the better.” He saunters over to where she is. Looking down at her, he grips her chin tightly turning her to look at him. “I promise you’ll like it.”

The loud sound of a microwave going of caught Jerome’s attention.

“Oh look at that,” (Y/N) spoke. “Saved by the bell.”

Jerome released her chin, giving her a look of uamusement.  He walked over grabbing what was in the microwave grabbing forks and bringing it back to her.

(Y/N) looked at the containers in his hands. Rolling her eyes, “Chinese? Really?”

“What? You expect a psycho like me to know how to cook?” He cackled handing her a fork and container. “Please darling, my talents lie somewhere else.”

“Killing people?” She glared heavily at him.

“Sweetheart, it takes a lot to pull a trigger. Courage, strength. Coming up with plans! That takes cunning, clever, that’s why I.” He puts his hand to his chest. “Am the boss of this little gang of ours.”

(Y/N) poked at the noodles in her box before cautiously taking a bite. “I don’t think that’s true. Looks to me, Galavan is the one calling all of the shots. You just have the illusion of control. How does that feel? Wanting all the control? Feeling like you have it all, only to realize you have none?” She intended for her words to cut, make him think, hurt him in some way.

It stirred some reaction in him. Jerome’s fists clenched around his fork, closing his eyes tightly trying not to think about what she was saying.

“You’re just a boy!” She jabs at him. “Thinking you’re so high and mighty! You want to rule above those who defy you. But in reality, you’re just a scared little boy cowering from those who threaten you because you’re afraid that they’re just going to hit you down and down again like your mother did. Then you’ll realize you’re just as pathetic as she thought you were.” (Y/N) didn’t know where all this was coming from. She’d always been a fairly peaceful person, never one to start fights. But she just wanted to hurt him, make him feel something. Relinquish the power he thought he had over her. The words about his mom just came from what she read in the newspaper after her murder. She hoped those would cut the deepest.

A sharp pain connected with the left side of her face, her body thrown to one side, chow mein noodles spilling across the rug. A pair of hands wrapped tightly around her throat, cutting off her air. The room started to spin. Little black dots danced at the edge of her vision.

“How dare you!” Jerome spat down at (Y/N). “Are you trying to shrink me? Get inside my head.” His grip tightened. (Y/N)’s hands coming up around his trying to get them to loosen in any way.

“P-please.” She barely managed to squeak out. She wanted a reaction but not this, she hadn’t intended for this. Her vision started to cloud in. A ringing started to sound in her ears mixing in with the thundering drum of her heart. “I-I’m,” she tried to cough. “Sorry.” She got out before the room spun and the world collapsed on itself.

(Don’t worry, that’s not her dying! Just me being dramatic! Tell me your thoughts! Thanks for reading! If you have any requests, just let me know!) 

2

Harry Potter Meme - [¾] locations: The Burrow
It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic (which, Harry reminded himself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, THE BURROW.

fa-nart  asked:

So I have a headcannon that all the creatures Luna talks about are like Tharestrals (sorry if that's bad spelling) where only certain people (or via certain things like Luna's glasses) are how you can see them.

I love this headcanon. This is a delightful headcanon. I’m not sure if you’re asking for a drabble from this or if you’re just making conversation, either of which is lovely. But I’m going to give you a drabble anyway :)


If you asked almost anyone worth asking, they would tell you that the centre of activity in wizarding Britain was not the Ministry of Magic. Not Diagon Alley, nor the smoke and coffee filled writing rooms of The Daily Prophet—not even Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

No, if you asked anyone worth asking, they would tell you that the epicentre—the very beating heart of Great Britain’s magical community—was a ramshackle farmhouse several stories high and half held up with stilts in a field just outside the sleepy English village of Ottery St Catchpole. Very few of the people worth asking, of course, could tell you how to find this curious dwelling, and not even those who could would. But anyone who was anyone could tell you this much: the house in question was called The Burrow.

Now anyone who had visited The Burrow might tell you that there was a large and lovely tree in the back garden, just before the dry stone wall that separated the house’s land from the tall grasses of the field beyond. They might also inform you that the tree was in fact a Cherry tree—not an Ornamental Cherry, but one that bore succulent and delicious fruit year after year, and was picked from by the numerous children who ran bare foot through the house, giggling and covered in sticky red juice that the wild-haired matron of The Burrow would cry out in horror at, flicking at the children with a dish-cloth until they ran, giggling still, to the sink in order to wipe themselves clean.

Yes, anyone who knew The Burrow well could tell you about the Cherry tree, about the sugar-sticky youngsters and the exasperated red-head who would bake the fruit into delicious, crumbly Madeira cakes for her children and grandchildren to steal.

But there was only one person who might be able to tell you (though if you asked her she would most likely smile and walk away) that late on a summer’s evening, there was no more beautiful place from which to watch the setting sun than from high up the branches of that grand old Cherry tree, and her name was Luna Lovegood. 

Now unlike queries about The Burrow, to which there was only one answer to be had, questions about Luna Lovegood might result in a hundred different answers, ranging from tranquil smiles to great heaving sighs of exasperation, or even dismissive sneers. Luna, for her part, was used to the sneers, and minded them little. She needed no-one else to affirm her convictions, as they were her convictions after all, and so long as she had the courage of them, all was well.

Many of those who knew Luna well, as much as one could know one such as Luna well, might if asked after her respond with fond smiles and softly shaken heads. They might tell you that Luna had—had always had—a habit of allowing her wild and endlessly bold imagination to run away with her. They might say that she spoke often of strange creatures that did not in fact exist.

Were they to say this, of course, they would be wrong. They would be perfectly sound in maintaining that she saw things that others did not, but their error was in assuming from this that such things were not real. The truth of the matter is that Luna could see such things because she was special.

Luna would disagree. She would say that most anyone would be able to see just as she did were they to open their minds and open their hearts. Luna was a modest girl, and generous in her view of others. No, Luna’s sight was not so clear because of the openness of her mind and heart (though you would not find a mind or heart more open anywhere, that much is true): it was because she had a Gift.

Were you to ask Muggles of the Fair Folk, they might say things like ‘Pixie’ or ‘Goblin’, ‘Troll’ or ‘Elf’. They would, as Muggles often are about such things, be mistaken. Such creatures might be seen by anyone—even a Muggle, were they to cross paths—while the Fair Folk might not.

A whole other world, you see, lives beside our own, and in it exist a great many wondrous things. In it live Faeries, Sprites, Nymphs, Imps, Alven, Brownies, Dryads, Kelpie, Devas, Selkies and hundreds, thousands more who bare no names.

Luna Lovegood could see them all. She often took High Tea with the bolder and more inquisitive of the Seelie Court, feasting on the dew of early morning grass from folded leaves and delicate flowers found growing only in the Fairy Kingdoms hidden from prying human eyes. She gently warded away Wrackspurts, who were not cruel but had little concept of ownership and thus were prone to pinching things. She wore radish earrings so that the Nargles might have something to feast on (for the Nargles are very keen on Raddishes) and in return they did not nest in her brain. She left out saucers of cream and honey for the Brownies who lived around her home, and they would sneak in quietly at night, shy as they were, and help around the house, cleaning dishes, sweeping floors and mending clothes. When she walked in the woods, as she so often did, she had little need of shoes , for Nymphs would skip about her ankles and clear the way of anything sharp that might hurt her. In return she planted trees and woody plants anywhere she could, much to their delight. Luna could swim in any lake or river she pleased with no fear of growing cold: the Sprites would warm the water around her, playfully splashing and providing her with air so that she might swim along the bed for as long as she pleased.

And Luna, a young woman whose kindness and gentility knew no bounds, would never admit to having favourites: she loved them all, these creatures seen by her and her alone. But in her heart of hearts, she knew that her favourite creatures of all were the Cherry Blossom fairies who lived in the tree behind The Burrow, which she visited so often. When children came, bright eyed and full of laughter, to the tree, the tiny flower fairies would carefully bless each cherry they touched, leaving their parents to marvel at how they never picked a single imperfect fruit. When Molly Weasley became distracted by the clamour of her life and the Madeira cake in the oven slipped her mind, they would hum softly in her ear and tug gently at her clothes, guiding her back to her cooking and reminding her without her ever knowing they did so. And when Luna oh-so-carefully climbed up through the branches of their home and settled themselves their to watch the sunset, they would line the branches and watch with her, single gentle songs of warm days and flowers in the trees, of children playing and of growing things as she opened up a large pink napkin with white polka dots, the same colours as the flowers of their tree, and feed them crumbs of cherry Madeira cake that she had stolen from the kitchen. 

And one day, after she had been climbing the tree to eat cake and watch the sun set in the sky with her fairy friends, she climbed the tree accompanied. The boy’s hair was sun-kissed and his skin tanned from hours in the sun. He wore no shoes,and the space under his short nails was crammed with dirt. 

And on that day, the Queen of the Cherry blossom fairies hummed and darted away, returning to the pair on the branch with a single cherry clasped by the stem in her tiny hand. And when, to his eyes supported by nothing, that cherry was delivered to his waiting hand, the boy did not start or make exclamations of disbelief. 

Neville Longbottom simply smiled and, very quietly, said thank-you.

And when the fairies of that grand old cherry tree hummed, children laughing on the ground bellow and the scent of Madeira cake drifting on the warm evening wind from the kitchen window, Luna Lovegood knew that they were saying ‘Yes. This boy is good. He is the one.’

And on another day, a few short years and many long, hot summer days later, Luna would dress in white, with no shoes, for she did not need them. Beneath that cherry tree the Nymphs cleared paths for her feet, the Fairies offered the fruits and flowers of their kingdom, the Sprites splashed gently in the pond, and the fairies of the Cherry tree laid a crown of blossoms on her head as she took Neville’s hand and smiled as they exchanged wings of twisted willow and each took a seed from the tree, vowing to plant them where they themselves made roots, knowing well that together they could only grow.



Right. That turned out not to be so much of a drabble as a fairytale? I just love Luna. I love her and I love Neville and I love fairies, so… here :) I hope this makes you smile. 
@fa-nart 

Yes, This is Normal

Title: Yes, This is Normal

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians + Heroes of Olympus

Pairing: PERCABETH

Summary: In which Percy gets injured from a monster-related incident and goes to Annabeth’s dorm room several floors high for help – a scenario which, is totally normal for the couple but not for Annabeth’s roommates.    Fluff :3

A/N: I wrote this a really long time ago, maybe a year or so ago, I’m guessing before I even went to college. I wrote this on my phone, and I completely forgot about it. I save it on my computer and let it lie around for a while more before I decided to actually post it on ff.net and tumblr.

It was a quiet night – at least, as quiet as New York could get, when Annabeth’s far-from-normal boyfriend banged on her dormitory room’s window, several floors above ground. The sound of Blackjack’s mighty wings beating against the wind drowned out the noise of a busy city righter. Annabeth dropped the righterty book she was doing two years worth of advanced reading on, and squinted her eyes to get a better look at the figure of the battered up teen hero in the darkness. When  she slid up the window to hear him talk, she observed that the injuries where worse than she thought. Blood dripped from a wound on Percy’s foredhead and mouth, and he was clutching his stomach below where his shirt got brutally ripped open. Annabeth sustained a gasp as she realized a few layers of flesh had been, too. And although they’d been used to seeing each other injured, the thought of one in the least bit of pain stung like fire licking at their insides.

Annabeth looked down to see the rattled street below – police and mediamen surrounded a huge imprint on the asphalt road she was certain was made by a monster. What could Percy have gotten into this time?

“Percy, seriously!” said an exasperated Annabeth as she helped Percy hoist himself from the righte to the windowsill, careful not to touch his injuries.

“Uhmm, nice to see you too, Annabeth,” Percy tried for a smile, a smile which Annabeth couldn’t decide was goofy or terrifying, since a steady stream of blood flowed from his temple. “Just a monster with a name so long I got too lazy to learn. I named him Bill instead. All taken care of.”

Annabeth shook her head – typical Percy personality, making fun and jokes at dire situations. Although, she thought, this isn’t as bad as much of the things they’ve gone through -  they’ve been to actual hell, so she knows. Percy flopped down the nearest bed to the window, which was conveniently Annabeth’s.

As a demigod, and a daughter of Athena at that, Annabeth kept a first aid kit in her drawer, filled with demigod essentials specifically meant for life-or-death moments. She grabbed a pair of scissors and started to cut off the already torn and bloody shirt. She found that Percy had a hard time moving his sword arm, and saw that it was swollen from the elbow to the shoulder and chest. “Bill’s tail really beat me up,” Percy chuckled, “no swordplay for me in a while, I guess.”

“Oh, Percy,” Annabeth sighed as she started cleaning up his stomach wound, which luckily wasn’t as bad as she thought. They were just really bad grazes, the torn shirt just made it more horrible than it actually was. Percy winced.

Still, even when beaten up Annabeth couldn’t help but notice how handsome Percy had become: how his muscles filled in and really defined his features, when he was so skinny and lanky when they’d first met. She noticed how angular his face got; how his eyes got sharper and cooler, yet gentle when he needed he to be, specially when he was staring lovingly at her. His tousled jet black gair was a perfect contrast to his light skin. Their gazes met when Annabeth began to wipe the blood off his face, and she let a few fingers touch his skin. The tingles she feels when their flesh touches had never worn away after all this time, after so many touches they had shared. And she never really wanted the lose the amazing sensation anyways.

Percy lifted his hand, though aching badly, to lead Annabeth’s hand to his face. He closed his eyes and sucked in her incredible warmth. He drew his face nearer and nearer to hers, despite every contraction of his muscles being very painful.

“Hey, Wise Girl,” he whispered unintentionally huskily as their noses touched. Annabeth sat at the bed beside him, never letting go of the position. Annabeth would probably never admit it to him but his voice at the moment, a bit hoarse and low, was really sexy. She smiled, and never let go. “You’re cute when you’re worried. Your eyebrows get all scrunched up,” Percy teased.

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9

Dr. Doris Zuel better known as Giganta

Dr. Doris Zuel and her research partner Bronson developed encephalogic exchange circuitry while working at the Gateway City Memorial Hospital, it was a technological process that would allow the exchange of one mind into the body of another. Doris had developed it in order to save her life, her body was dying of an unnamed disease but she was convinced her mind could live on. When Wonder Woman fell into a coma and was taken in by the hospital Doris saw her chance.

Unfortunately the transfer sequence was interrupted, both by death of Wonder Woman’s body (it didn’t keep) and by Donna Troy and Cassie Sandsmark. Doris Zuel’s body, weakened by the transfer attempt and the disease, passed away on the table. Doris’ mind, however, was safe in the transfer buffer of the encephalogic exchange circuitry. Later, Bronson would return to the scene of the crime and complete the transfer, transferring Doris’ mind into the largest primate they had on site, a gorilla named Giganta.

Doris’ would transfer her mind one more time, into the body of a comatose circus’ strongwoman named Olga. This is the body she would keep. Olga’s body (now Doris’) was affected by a spell from a shaman which gave it the ability to grow several stories high.

Giganta joins many teams over the years, teaming up with classic Wonder Woman villians like Circe and the Cheetah as well as briefly joining the Secret Six. She is part of a team called Villains Inc. which is one of the only times Doris uses her clearly brilliant mind.

Yes, I hate to disappoint all the Science Pros out there but after reading through quite a bit of Giganta’s appearances, many of which are team efforts or brief cameos, after her origin and the team up with Villains Inc. the only time a scientific bent is implied is when she (briefly) reforms to take a job at Ivy University in All New Atom.                 

Issues Featuring Giganta (for more than a second or her getting hit in the face)

  • WW V2 – 126-127, 136, 179-183
  • WW V3 – 1-3, 36
  • All New Atom – 3&4, 17
  • Secret Six – 25-28
4

THE BEACH HOUSE

When fate is involved, can Emma and Killian change their destiny so their love transcends time and space to give them their happy ending? 

Chapter 8

Chapters 1 - epilogue, are on AO3 and on Fan Fiction

On tumblr (1)(2)(3)(4) (5)(6)(7)(9)(10)(11)(12)(13 (14)(15)(16)(epilogue)

Words - ~6100  Rating - T

Killian (2012)

Killian arrived at the docks earlier than usual one morning in October to see what kind of mess his ship had procured from the little demon whose birthday they had been privy to host the day before.  Walking across the gangplank, he could already see problems and once he was actually standing on the deck, he was sorely tempted to turn around and hire someone to clean the untidiness that was visible.  There was chocolate frosting, at least he hoped it was chocolate frosting, smeared on the railing, and on the rigging.  Noticing that Rumple was licking something off of the deck, Killian leaned over for a better look and realized it was vanilla cake crumbs ground in between the tightly placed planks, but that wasn’t the worst damage.  No, that was left to the sail, the spinnaker to be exact.  Someone had spilled a drink, a red drink, on his pristine white cloth!   "Bloody hell, how do I get that clean?“

Pulling out his smartphone and googling "how to clean red dye out of sails” the search gave him a list of items needed.  A bucket and brush were no problem but he required vinegar and something called Woolite.  Googling Woolite, solved that mystery, and he was ready to go shopping, but then remembered he had the dog, and stores and Rumple, were not a good mix.  “Well boy, you’re going to have to stay here and guard the ship.” Thinking that was settled, he locked up and walked up the dock, hoping he could purchase his items at the small market close to the Bayside Marketplace.

Finding the vinegar proved to be much easier than finding the Woolite and by the time he found a market that carried it, he had been gone almost two hours.  Feeling pretty good about his finds he walked onto the ship, expecting to see only the problems that were there before he left and not the disaster that he faced.    Before he even got back on board he saw the anchor sitting on the dock, the mainsail was unfurled and flapping in the wind and once he stepped back on the ship, well a maze of rope ran from bow to stern and in the middle sat Rumple.  He was wagging his tail with his mouth hanging open, tongue hanging out, and a very pleased look on his face.   Killian put his hands on his hips and looked at the dog, “Rumple, bad form, mate.  Very bad form.”

Once he got closer to him, he saw the real reason that he was so happy to welcome his master back and it wasn’t to show off his decorations, it was that he had managed to wind the rope around himself so many times, he couldn’t break free.   Killian crouched down close to him and started undoing the knots.   As the knots were loosened, Rumple’s excitement became more apparent and he could no longer contain himself from showing his gratitude to his master with well-placed kisses all over Killian’s face.  “Rumple!  Stop! Keep your tongue to yourself.”  He couldn’t be calmed though and doing his best to keep his face away from the dog, Killian was finally able to get him free, and begin the chore of tidying.

After Rumple’s issues were taken care of, Killian made the mixture and concentrated on removing the red dye from his sail.  Thinking the mixture was a bloody magic potion, the sails were quickly set to rights and drying in the warm winds.  Before long the railings were wiped down and sparkled in the sun and he was just left with the remains of the cake in the tight space between the boards of the deck. Not having any success with the broom, he ended up having to use a small brush, and from a position on his knees, slowly, sweep the pieces into a pan.  "Bloody demons!  Barbarians!  Hellions!   Little devils!  Miscreants!"  On and on his tirade continued until he heard, a voice calling his name.

"Little brother, is there a reason your anchor is sitting on the dock?”

Killian rolled his eyes at the interruption as well as his brother’s ability to annoy him with just two words and standing, walked over to the starboard side to see Liam looking at the anchor laying on the dock, “that’s younger brother and you can blame Rumple.  Seems he was a bit disgruntled that I left him behind earlier.“

Shaking his head over the anchor, Liam walked onto the ship and looked around at how neat the area was, "Is there an inspection?”

“Stop being an arse, Liam, you know there is no such thing.”

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