two storey house

Attention Riverdale Fandom!

Listen. There is something very important that needs to be discussed…

Jughead and Archie sharing a room.

Yes yes, we’ve all seen how great it is that Archie is helping his friend but I’m not talking about the morality of all this. I’m talking about the schematics.

Because??? The Andrews have a Big Ass Fucking House. Two storeys. With only three people living there. There has got to be at LEAST two spare bedrooms, possibly even three (though that may be stretching just a little).

Now think. In this big ass house with at least two spare bedrooms, what reason would Jug and Archie have to share??


Absolutely none.

Except… That they just plain wanted to.

It’ll Be Okay

Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia

Word count: 1838

Characters: Peter x reader, Susan

Warnings: pregnancy, vomiting, Peter getting nervous

Summary: Requested by @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories. Peter doesn’t know how to react when he finds out about your pregnancy.

You let your pen drop to your desk triumphantly, just to the side of the letter you’d been writing. Your signature was still shining on the page. You had spent far too long working on that- you weren’t the skilled writer that Susan or Edmund were. Still, it was done now. You could send it later.

It felt good to get to your feet and stretch. Deep orange sunlight tumbled through the window and over your writing desk. You had worked right through the afternoon without realising it.

As if to punctuate the realisation, your stomach gave a disgruntled mutter. You rubbed it absent-mindedly. Dinner wouldn’t be served until Peter and Lucy returned from their ride, and that wouldn’t be for a few hours yet. Perhaps, if you went down to the kitchens, they would have something there that you could eat to keep yourself going.

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Creepypasta #1135: I Believe In Goatman

Length: Long

Goatman lives. I know it. I remember, the first time I heard a story about him, I didn’t believe it. Ghosts, I believed in. Spirits, sure. But a half man, half goat creature that wandered the woods and terrorized people? This was too much, even for my fertile imagination.

My grandfather grew up in Northern Ontario, where his family worked in the mining industry. He was the first one who ever told me about Goatman. One bitterly cold winter, when he was just a boy, a huge snowstorm blew through the area.

He remembered, at dinnertime, his father talking about how, when he was making his way home after gathering some firewood in the woods, he saw in the distance the figure of a man walking through the forest, bent against the wind and snow. He had called to him, but received no answer. Everyone thought it was a wandering vagrant, or someone who had gotten lost as the storm blew up, and was searching for shelter.

That night, though, Grandpa said that his family had woken up and seen what looked like a man walking around the house, looking in the windows. Come morning, they went to check it out. Instead of fresh human boot or shoe prints in the snow, they saw cloven hoof-prints. And that’s where the story ended. His story, anyway.

My grandparents had moved a couple of hours away from that area, and I grew up living next door to them, in a gold mining town. I am an only child, and my best friend was my cousin, Tanya, who lived in the same town. We’d spend every summer in the woods around my grandparents and my house. Those woods had a magical quality to them. They felt extremely safe and wholesome, like the Hundred Acre Wood from Winnie the Pooh or something. We’d play for hours in those woods, pretending we were Celtic princesses, or pioneer women. But one day, we wandered a little too far.

This was Northern Ontario, so our entire town was surrounded by bush and rock, being part of the Canadian shield. Not far beyond the safe, happy-feeling woods behind my grandparent’s house was the lake the town had taken its name from. When I was little, it was a beautiful spot, but the mine had drained it do some exploration. A chain link fence surrounded the perimeter and our parents had always warned us not to go near there – it could be really dangerous.

Tanya was a show-off. At sixteen years old she was only one year ahead of me, but boy did she lord it over me. She was petite, with graceful curves, blonde hair, blue eyes and a flawless complexion. Boys fawned over her. I, on the other hand, was an awkward fifteen year old, with thick, long brown hair, glasses, braces and an acne problem. She was sweet, and always told me I was pretty and helped me to feel better about myself, but she made no secret that she thought she was drop dead gorgeous.

Tanya was also a lot more worldly than me. I was bookish, naive, and didn’t have experience with boys. She’d already had several boyfriends and had tried smoking and drinking – two things I refused to do. So, it didn’t surprise me when she said we should travel down to the fence that bordered the drained-out lake and flash the few guys who would be sitting in their diggers that were working there.

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Help! Not Just Anybody

Props to @louiseeleanorbee for helping me come up with the title way back when I wrote this.

Also…. So Y/N was Ella’s Mom in Secrets And Lies but in this story it’s a COMPLETELY different character. I was gonna use an OC but in my experience, people prefer reader characters sooo… Don’t get confused.

“How many more have we got left?” Spencer asked JJ with a loud sigh.

His friend look at the page in front of her and squinted. “Two. The next one should be along any second now. I’ll go put another coffee on whilst we wait. You doing okay?”

Reid nodded, grasping Jen’s hand when she squeezed his shoulder as she stood.

“I’m good. Just tired. And fed up of listening to people tell me how they’d raise my daughter for me. And then seeing the judgement on their face when they hear about her sister.”

“What’s funny is watching them struggle to hide their judgement. From two profilers at that. Nah, don’t think so,” JJ grinned at him, collecting their mugs.

“You’re doing the right thing Spence. A live in nanny will help you so much. And it’s not like you can’t afford it. You won’t have to worry about finding last minute sitters or having to run Ella over to Georgia or Amanda in the middle of the night. And I know you’ve missed being out in the field.”

“I know. It just….it feels like I’m asking someone to replace her mom. And that’s not right.”

Jennifer tilted her head to the side and gave Spencer another smile, a sadder one this time.

“You’re not though and she knows that. But you miss your job and Hotch can’t keep you out of the field forever, not unless you switch departments. And it’s not often were out of state for more than two or three days at most recently. I can’t remember the last long one…. ”

“Seventeen months and four days ago. We were out for thirteen days. The Edison Strangler.”

“See, good run. And you’re offering a great deal here. Accommodation, a car, an amazing salary. Jessica was doing all of that for free when she was looking after Jack. And you can’t rely on Georgia or Amanda forever. Amanda loves her grandchild to pieces but she’s getting on a bit herself and expecting her to take care of a nine year old constantly is a bit much.”

Reid shoved his hands through his hair. “I know, I know that you’re right. And I’m sure once we find the right one I’ll feel better about this.”

“You will, I promise. Now, coffee?”

JJ left the room leaving Spencer to his thoughts. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about having a stranger live with them and looking after Ella but both JJ and Georgia had convinced him that it was the right thing to do. Gee would still have Ella on the last weekend of the month but she couldn’t keep picking her up from school for him, not now that she had gone back to work full time. It hadn’t been so bad before when the girls were at the same school but when Gee had remarried and moved in with her new husband it meant a new school district for Ellie.

After Ella’s mom had died and Spencer had finally managed to pull his head together enough to care for his daughter, he’d made the decision to move Ella and him to a two storey town house near to his old home with Georgia, changing her schools so that she was in the same one as Ellie. But now, he hadn’t wanted to uproot her again, she’d already changed schools twice and although Ella and Ellie were obviously close, they hadn’t actually been in the same class so had both made other friends. It didn’t seem fair to make her change schools just so that it would be easier on him because she could go home with Ellie and wait there until Spencer could collect her. So for the past six months Spencer had been relying on Ella’s Grandma Amanda to travel across town to pick her up or Georgia and Tim, Gee’s new husband, to watch her until he could get home from work. Occasionally even Will would pitch in and Ella would spend time with Henry.

It was all affecting Spencer and Ella badly. When he had free time he wanted to be able to spend it with Ella, and when it was his weekends to have Ellie he wanted to be able to take the girls out. Instead, because he was rarely at home until late in the week because of work and then having to drive to various places to collect Ella from whichever caregiver was looking after her, chores were piling up which meant he needed to spend time doing them. He was also neglecting his job because he was constantly having to think about making sure he was in a certain place at a certain time, or what things he needed to do that night before he could finally rest. Hotch had been fantastic about letting Spencer stay at HQ but that wasn’t what Spencer had signed up for when he joined the FBI. He actually enjoyed travelling to the different states on cases but because of his situation, he’d had to pull back from that a lot. And so JJ had suggested he look into a nannying service. He had the room at home for a live in and he could afford it. Having someone there all the time would make things easier for him and Ella, she could come home from school and start her homework straight away and be in her own home. And as part of the role would be basic housekeeping, he wouldn’t have to worry about chores so could spend more time with Ella, and Ellie when he had her.

He was just apprehensive about having someone in his home with him. But he could see the benefits of it so had finally called JJ and had sh to and Derek help him redecorate and kit out the spare bedroom, as well as contacting agencies to put in ads. As Ella’s godmother, JJ was helping with the interviews although he could tell that she was getting exasperated with him. They’d interviewed last weekend too and none of the eight applicants they’d seen had been right in his eyes. They’d seen another five today, with two more to go. Hearing a knock on the front door he realised that the next applicant had arrived. He sighed deeply to himself.

Y/N had been sitting in her car for the last twenty five minutes, parked slightly up the road from the home of her next potential employer.

Her current family that she’d been with for four years were leaving for England in three weeks time and although she’d been offered positions with three other families, she hadn’t felt that initial click with the parents that she liked to. Whilst her main focus was of course the children she’d be looking after, Y/N had found that most children liked her and that she could adapt to them. It was the parents that were the problem. If she couldn’t work with them, she wouldn’t enjoy the job and that would have a negative effect on the children and her. And she wanted to be happy with her work, especially when it was one that involved her living in on the job.

Her next prospective employer was Dr Spencer Reid of the FBI. Her existing employers had actually informed her of the current new position, suggesting she go for it. The mom of her current charges had heard about the job from another mom at the school, a woman known as Jen. Jen was one of Dr Reid’s colleagues and friend, and had asked that Y/N go and interview when she learned that she wouldn’t be joining the family in England.

Y/N had done her research on the man, discovering that he was 37 years of age and had numerous degrees and accreditations, more than seemed humanly possible for a man his age who’d had a full time position within the FBI since he was 24. His resume was impressive and sightly intimidating to her but she wasn’t going to let that show. Her lack of degrees and honours had no reflection on her abilities as a caregiver. Interestingly enough the articles she’d read had not mentioned the fact that he was father, only stating that he was divorced and resided in Virginia. She guessed that given his job he liked to keep as much of his personal life as private as he could.

Checking her appearance in the rear view mirror a final time, Y/N gathered her bag and her resume up, locking her car and making her way to the front door. She was surprised when a pretty blonde woman answered the door, a woman she recognised from the gates of the school. She wasn’t there often but when she was, her son would always run to her beaming.

“Hi. I’m JJ. You must be Y/N?” her smile was welcoming and Y/N grinned back, extending her hand to be shook.

“Hello! Yes, I am. I recognise you from Green Acres.”

“Ah yes, Henry loves it there. Come on through and I’ll take you in to meet Spencer. I’ll pre warn you now, he’s a little cranky. This is the second weekend of interviewing.”

JJ was feeling optimistic about this applicant. Another school mom that she talked to had recommended her, singing her praises and lamenting how sad the family were that they couldn’t convince Y/N to join them in England. Jen had seen her too at the school gates, picking up her charges and they always seemed pleased to see her. Maybe that families loss would be Spencer and Ella’s gain.

JJ led Y/N through to dining room to where Spencer was sitting gripping a cup of coffee like his life depended on it. She felt bad for her friend, but she truly believed this was best option if Reid wanted to keep working at the BAU.

“Spencer, this is Y/F/N. Y/N, this is Dr Spencer Reid.”

Y/N crossed the room quickly and held her hand out to him, surprised when he didn’t take it. Behind her she heard JJ sigh.

“He has a thing about hand shaking…. ”

“The amount of bacteria passed during a single handshake is….” the man began to speak.

“Spencer, really? I’ve heard you say that line to every single applicant. You really should just shake their hands, it’s polite.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Don’t worry Dr Reid, I completely understand,” Y/N did to an extent, the amount of germs and bacteria the human came into contact with each day was immense and she always drilled good cleanliness and hygiene practices into her charges, carrying bottles of antibacterial gel in her bag at all times.

JJ touched her arm and gestured to one of the chairs. “Please, take a seat. Can I get you a drink or anything?”

“I’m fine actually, thank you. I have bottled water in my bag, one of the habits of being a nanny, always having snacks and drinks with you wherever you go.”

She didn’t mention the apple, boxes of raisins and the zip lock bag of carrot sticks she also had, or the bag of Reeses miniature pieces.

“Alrighty then,” JJ pulled up the seat next to Dr Reid. “Let’s begin. I’m Ella’s godmother, so I’m helping Spencer out. We’re trying to keep this relatively informal. If you could just tell us about yourself and how you came into this profession?”

“Okay, erm… So I’m 26 years old and I’ve been nannying for eight years with two separate families.”

“So you started when you were eighteen?” Dr Reid furrowed his brow slightly.

“Yes,“ Y/N replied, knowing where this was going.

“Did you not go to college?” he asked.

Had he not even read her resume at all?


“Can I asked why not?”

“You can. You see, I had a bit of a turbulent time during my teenage years, I’m not going to lie and cover that up. My mom passed away when I was eleven leaving my dad and I, and my three younger siblings. Up until I was fifteen I was the good little daughter, helping to raise them and ultimately taking over from my mother. It felt natural to me, I’m great with kids hence why I do what I do. Then a few months after my fifteenth birthday I seemed to hit a brick wall and suddenly careered drastically off course. I started hanging with a bad crowd at school, skipping classes and generally being a teenage tearaway. My school work slipped massively and I suddenly had no ambition in life. I finally managed to pull myself back a few months before graduation but by then it was too late. I barely scraped together enough credits to graduate.”

Y/N paused to take a sip from her water bottle that she’d pulled from her bag.

“After I left school I started waitressing at this little diner. A family used to come in at least three times a week. A mom and her two kids. They were regulars, the mom worked long hours so didn’t want to waste time to home cooking so she took the kids out to eat most nights, and the dad worked away a lot. I started making small talk with them and getting to know them and after around four months, the mom approached me and asked if I’d ever consider nannying. She’d seen how good I was with her kids. She loved her job dearly but was feeling pressure to give it up because she felt like she was neglecting her kids. They had different sitters a few nights a week and she was constantly being let down. They had a spare room at the house and she offered me a better wage than what I was making at the diner. It was a no brainer really. I ended up staying with them for five years, until the youngest was headed off to middle school. I still see the family regularly. During my time with them, I completed some courses at the community college so I at least had some basic qualifications. I found my latest family, the Thompsons through my first job. The moms worked together. I’ve been with them for three years and would stay with them longer still except I don’t wish to move to another country despite the very attractive package they’ve offered me to go. My own family and friends are here, and two years ago I started taking a weekend class at the college, working towards a degree in psychology. It involves some online learning modules which I’ve been doing when the children were at school. Eventually I want to become a guidance counsellor so hopefully I can help other children make the right decisions instead of flying off the handles like I did.”

Both JJ and Dr Reid were nodding by the time she finished, JJ a genuine looking smile on her face. JJ then began to explain the ins and outs of what this particular position would entail. Only one child which Y/N wasn’t used to, but she would be on call pretty much all the time. Due to the nature of their jobs Dr Reid could be away for days at a time.

“The last weekend of every month you’d have free though. My ex wife looks after Ella then and she would still be on call for emergencies as would Ella’s grandmother. I am home most weekends, in recent months our unsubs seem to have been thoughtful enough to keep their activities to weekdays,” Dr Reid chuckled nervously at his joke and Y/N indulged him with a grin.

“Ella’s mom only has her once a month?” she did ask, feeling confused.

“Erm no,” a glance between Dr Reid and JJ.

“Ella’s mom passed away four years ago. Ella spends time with my ex wife so she can see her sister. You’ll meet her too and part of your role could also entail looking after her if I’m called into work suddenly on the weekends I have her. That’s only happened a handful of times though,” he explained.

“Oh okay. So how old is Ella’s sister?”

“She’s also nine. Ellie is four months younger than Ella…. ”

Y/N’s brain did the maths and took in the slightly sheepish look on the man’s face, noticing how attractive he actually was. It sounded like Dr Reid hadn’t quite been the oh so faithful husband which was odd. Y/N was no expert but she somehow didn’t expect that from the man sat in front of her, but then again people change.

Dr Reid sighed loudly, an annoyed look crossing his features.

“I can see you judging me. The same look every applicant has had so far when I’ve mentioned Ellie.”

He was right, she was.

“Sorry,” Y/N apologised. “I thought I was doing a better job of hiding my judgement, I guess I’d have to work on that being around a profiler. You do kinda deserve it though, you’ve got to at least expect it, especially when you don’t give the whole story.”

Dr Reid looked shocked and JJ’s grin grew wider. Every other applicant had stumbled over their words and blushed when Spencer had called them out on it, which he’d done every single time. He knew he deserved the judgement, the girl was right. This one though, was the first applicant to actually respond honestly and openly to his accusations.

Jen was pleasantly surprised though when Spencer pushed back his chair and stood.

“Y/N, would you like a tour of the house? I can show you the bedroom that would be yours if you accept the job offer, and you can see Ella’s room.”

“Wait… Job offer? Is the interview over?”

Dr Reid nodded. “It is for me at least. I appreciate how honest you’ve been with me about your past, and I respect that you didn’t try to lie when I called you out just then. As a profiler, you learn to read people and from what I’m reading from you, I think you’d be very good for my daughter. If you want the job, it’s yours.”

A silent ‘yes’ went through JJ and she resisted the urge to fist pump when Y/N stood up next to him.

“Show me my new bedroom then, Dr Reid.”

“Please, it’s Spencer.”

Cry Wolf - Part Six

Summary: Dean loves his little sister, just as much as he loves his little brother, even if she isn’t technically his sister. But there’s a reason his Dad took her in, and it’s not purely out of the goodness of his heart. Could the girl who believes herself to be Sam’s twin really be a bomb just waiting to go off?
Words: 1470
Warnings: None really for this part… I don’t think.
AN: I am on a roll!!! Not sure how many parts are left for this series. I’ve got the next part partially written already, and about three parts planned after that… I already know how this series is going to end, it’s just a matter of getting there  XD

Constructive Criticism Welcome!!!



“Sometimes, I freaking hate werewolves,” you growled, pulling your hair free of the style you’d been wearing it in all day as you slowly meandered back to the car. Gale and Connor chuckled as you approached, both leaning against the Jeep you’d arrived in just 20 minutes ago. “They’re rude, messy, and clearly have no respect for personal property!”

The other two exchanged bemused expressions before Gale spoke up. “You know you’re included in that, right? Or have you forgotten how we picked your sorry ass up off the forest floor?” she said, standing up straight when you finally reached the car and slumped forward on the hood.

Rolling your eyes, you recalled clearly the events of that night. How they’d kept you on lockdown in one of the many cages they had for werewolves like you, until the full moon waned. How they’d then gone on to interrogate you about your past; how you turned, when you turned, how many people you’d killed… then they’d welcomed you into their pack. They weren’t about to turn away someone who had such an insight into what hunters look for when scouting for werewolves.

A lot had changed since that night. You’d changed a lot since that night.

You narrowed your eyes at her just as she tucked her dark hair behind her ear and stuck her tongue out at you playfully. “Yeah, yeah… whatever. It’s just that these guys are so…” you threw your hands up in the air with a frustrated groan, not even sure what word could best describe the intruders.

“Don’t stress, Y/N/N. We’ll catch them tomorrow” Connor said, opening his door and making to climb into the driver’s seat.

Huffing, you slid into the car, quickly followed by Gale. “Don’t even get me started on you, dumbass” you muttered, crossing your arms and staring out the window. “You don’t seem to have a grasp on how serious this whole situation is.”

Beside you, you saw him stiffen slightly before turning the ignition. Gale clearly did too, leaning forward from her position in the back to place a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “We get it, Y/N. But we can’t stress over it. We’ll catch them before they kill again, but right now we’ve got the pack to worry about” she soothed, giving you a stern look which you stubbornly ignored.

“We’ve got ages til moonrise” you muttered bitterly. “If we stay on this, then we won’t have to clean up anymore animal carcasses from the local farms, and I won’t have to keep covering up heartless human corpses.”

Neither of them replied as Connor drove down the country lane, away from the site of what could only be described as a massacre. Luckily, this time around, it was sheep, not people.

The culprits were a couple of twenty-something guys who’d taken an interest in Gale and Heather, another member of your pack, while you were having a girls’ night out at the local bar. Naturally, they were shot down, your pack had standards after all, but that had just pissed these wolves off. Over the last three weeks, four people had been killed, five farms had been raided, and one of your pack-mates had been attacked. It was just your luck that your pack had managed to piss off a couple of Purebloods.

You were practically gagging for their blood.

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Fool’s Gold | Chapter 2 | Harry Styles PT AU


Story Page Here

Listen To Call Your Girlfriend Christopher
Don’t you tell her how I give you something that you never even knew you missed
Don’t you even try and explain how it’s so different when we kiss
And you just tell her that the only way her heart will mend is when she learns to love again
And it won’t make sense right now but you’re still her friend
And then you let her down easy

Word Count 6.5k

‘Ok then, yes please.’ He said timidly, and Olivia smiled as reassuringly as she could, just a thin line that pulled upwards at the corners, none of the bright toothy smile she’d normally have on around Harry. They both got out of the car and Olivia locked it behind them as they walked silently towards the front door. Olivia half felt like she should reach out and take his hand, he looked like a puppy that had been left on the streets, kicked and starved of compassion. She knew she shouldn’t though so she didn’t, keeping her hands to herself and standing just behind Harry as he knocked on his front door like he needed permission to enter. Ella answered. Her near black hair was piled on her head in a sloppy top knot, glossy and shiny. Her face was free of makeup, but she had a white shirt on with some dark grey joggers that made Olivia think she was halfway through getting ready.

‘Do you want me to come in with you?’ Olivia asked as they pulled up outside the house. Harry was looking out of the car window to the row of identical houses, each with perfectly mowed squares of lawn, each with navy blue PVC doors with thin rectangles of frosted glass. Olivia couldn’t see his face but she’d bet good money on him having his bottom lip pulled in between his thumb and forefinger nervously. He did the same when he was thinking but Olivia could tell the difference.

‘Would you mind?’ He queried as he turned his head to her.

‘Of course not, whatever you want H.’

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Old Brick Avenue project will contains several town houses and other properties, renovated or build from the scratch in very elegant, traditional way. 

The second is number 28 - two storey, small house excellent for wealthy couple or elders on their retirement:

No CC used! 

Created with The Sims 4, Go To Work, Get Together

lydiia-martins  asked:

first of all I'm obsessed with hear the wolf it's so good 😻 and if you're taking jonsa prompts still: Jon helping Sansa look for Lady in a storm 😻

You are way, waaaaaay too sweet! Thank you so very much! You have no idea how much I appreciate you saying that <3 

With that said, here’s my attempt at your prompt. Of course it is so much longer than I had expected since I am incapable of writing short drabbles. 

But yeah, I hope you like it!

The storm came at a quarter to ten. It rocked the windows of the two-storey house and lights flickered in nonsensical patterns. Sansa sat alone in the den. She had been in the middle of binge-watching Westworld when everything went dark. For a few seconds, Sansa listened to the storm raging outside. It rained a lot in Scotland – more so than it did anything else – but storms weren’t as common. The last time it rained this badly the roof had collapsed in on the nearby post office. People were without power for days and it had even flooded in parts of the city. Sansa was living down south then but her parents had texted her consistently to make sure she was alright in London. Of course it had rained in London too but nowhere near as badly as the north. 

But Sansa was home this time – and alone too. Her parents were at a party, and with the storm as it was, Sansa didn’t think they’d be home any time soon. It was more than likely they’d just crash at the Mormont’s, which they had been known to do in the past but that had been due to excessive drinking. Robb was away on holiday; Arya and Bran were still at university. Only Rickon was actually in Edinburgh but he was staying the night at a friend’s. That left Sansa and all their dogs.

Something crashed from down in the basement that had her frowning. Sansa, the dogs and Jon. She didn’t know why he was here. He wasn’t even family, but that was hardly a valid reason anymore. From the day Jon’s mother died when he was sixteen, Eddard and Catelyn Stark had all but adopted him into their home. As Robb’s best friend and with no other living relative, Sansa was not so unfeeling as to begrudge Jon for living with them, but it didn’t mean she liked him any more than she had before. He was still stupid, boring, grumpy Jon. Only now, he was stupid, boring, grumpy Jon that lived in her house. 

Quiet click-clacking on the wooden floorboards announced the arrival of the Stark family dogs in quick succession. First came Shaggydog, Nymeria, Grey Wind, Ghost and then Summer. Sansa sat up straighter and waited. There were no further sounds of click-clacking. It was eerily silent once the five dogs had settled down on the carpet. Sansa craned her neck to peer down the darkened corridor. “Lady?” she called but there was no answering woof. Panic began to slide coldly down her throat. “Lady!” she called out louder this time, and quickly stood up. Again, no answer. 

The next ten minutes was spent searching frantically from room to room. When she reached the back of the house, Sansa shivered. A cold gust of wind whipped towards her, chilling her through her thick hoodie and sweat bottoms. Someone had left the backdoor open and that meant… 

Sansa turned quickly and raced down to the basement – the one room she hadn’t looked in yet. She knocked furiously on the door. “Jon! Jon!” She could hear the hysteria in her voice, and while normally Sansa remained as controlled of her emotions as was possible around Jon, occasionally she slipped up. Once, during Christmas holidays when she was fifteen and Robb and him seventeen, and they had come home drunk and broken her favourite pair of heels. She had screamed bloody murder then but this hysteria was different. 

The door pulled back to reveal a tall, broad man in his early twenties with a scruffy beard and shaggy long hair. His face was shadowed by the only source of light from inside his room: an open laptop. “Sansa, what’s wrong?”  

“Lady! She’s… Is she in there?” From the confused look on Jon’s face, her heart plummeted to the soles of her feet. “She’s gone! The backdoor was open and… and it’s raining out, and what if she can’t find her way home? What if she’s hurt!” 

Abruptly, two strong hands gripped her shoulders and Jon’s face was now level to hers. From this proximity, she could see flecks of violet in the irises of his grey eyes, but that was probably the dim lighting playing tricks on her. “Sans, Lady is a smart dog. She’ll be okay.” 

“What if she’s not, Jon?” Sansa hated the whining tone her voice took but the bond she shared with her dog meant more to her than any pair of heels, any stupid party, any dumb boy that had come and gone in her life. 

Jon must’ve realised this when he went back into his room and grabbed a parka from a hook. He glanced back at Sansa then grabbed another parka. “Wear this,” he commanded, and she did so wordlessly, following him back up the stairs. Jon placed a hand on her shoulder in a motion for her to stay and disappeared into a storage cupboard. When he came out, he was holding two torches. Sansa couldn’t help wondering then if Jon had always been so calm and collected in crises or if he had to learn it when his mother died. 

“Sansa…” Jon stopped in front of the door to the back garden that led out into a wide field fenced in by thick trees. She looked up into his eyes and noticed how serious they were. Jon was always serious, that was one of the reasons why she had never liked him, but underneath it, she also saw concern. Was that for her? Or for Lady? She couldn’t imagine it’d be for her but then he had to go and say, “stay close.” 

Under any other circumstances, Sansa might have retorted with something scathing but she only nodded today. It was all she could do to keep her limbs from trembling, half from the cold and half from fear. Within five minutes of being out in the rain, drenched thoroughly through in spite of Jon’s parka, it became mostly from the cold. It settled over her like the unpleasant feeling of walking with wet socks, only everything was wet and Sansa could barely see beyond her fingers. Fat droplets fell from the sky so rapidly no amount of blinking could clear them from her vision. The wind bit into her cheeks like thousands of tiny little bugs nipping into her skin. 

Wordlessly, as if he had sensed her discomfort and impaired vision, Jon’s hand wrapped tightly around hers. She started, confused by the action and even more confused by how nice it felt, but didn’t comment. They walked across the field to the edge of the trees. A moment passed as Jon seemed to contemplate whether to trek through a dark wet forest before he was pulling her forward again. She shuffled closer and gripped his arm with her free hand, hoping to gain something, anything, from his body heat. If he was surprised by the intimacy, Jon didn’t say anything. 

They walked for what felt like hours to Sansa but was probably only thirty minutes. Her voice was raw from calling out for Lady and her trembling had only gotten worse. Fear had quickly given way to outright panic and Sansa tore herself away from Jon in a half-crazed run. She screamed for Lady, the tears falling down her cheeks thankfully hidden by the rain. 

Sansa cupped her hands around her lips, readying to shout again, when she was suddenly slammed into a tree. A half a second later, a tree branch groaned from above and fell where she had just stood. Sansa blinked, gasping, as she looked at Jon. He was breathing hard, his body heaving up and down against hers, as he kept her pressed against the tree. There was a point of throbbing pain at the base of her skull where it had met the tree but she wasn’t as aware of it as she was of Jon. Every ridged line of his body, every twitch of his muscle as he stayed flushed against her. Sansa opened her mouth to say something, maybe to tell him to get off of her, maybe to thank him, but she didn’t get a chance to even think of a response before his lips captured hers roughly. It wasn’t slow or lethargic or unfeeling as she had once thought a kiss from Jon would be; it was desperate and intense, almost painful. What surprised her even more was how Sansa responded to him – just as painfully, as desperately, as passionately as if they would die tomorrow if they didn’t. 

When Jon pulled away, Sansa was embarrassed to hear the moan of displeasure leaving her lips. Her cheeks burned as she noticed the hint of a smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why did you?”

Jon leaned his forehead to hers and sighed. “Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t want to.” Sansa’s ensuing silence spurred him to continue on. “When I saw that branch start to break, for that split second, I thought it’d hit you. I thought of course it’d be my luck that I’d lose you before I even got a chance to have you.” He paused, startled by his own admission, and took a step back. “I… I don’t mean I have you now. You’re not anyone’s to have. I just…” 

Before Jon could finish his sentence, Lady came racing through the trees towards them. She jumped at Sansa and barked happily. Sansa returned her enthusiasm by placing kisses all over the dog’s head. “Don’t you ever do that again, Lady!” she admonished but the dog only whinnied in response. 

This time, Sansa led them back. The lights had turned back on in the neighbourhood and she could see her house clearly through the darkness. Even the rain had started to let up now. 

Once safely inside, Sansa peeled the parka from her body and tossed it in a heap on the ground. Lady bounded down the corridor, trailing mud and shaking droplets of water everywhere. Sansa could deal with the mess in the morning. She was too tired now, and more importantly, she had something else to take care of. 

“Jon?” Sansa turned back to face him. He was running his hands through his hair and shaking his head much in the same way Lady had been. Sansa reached forward and stilled his hands. His eyes widened in surprise and she smiled. “How long have you fancied me?” 

“Longer than appropriate,” Jon answered easily with a soft chuckle. She gave him an inquisitive look, so he elaborated. “You’re Robb’s sister. Nedd and Catelyn’s daughter. I can’t take advantage of you like that.” 

Sansa placed her hands on her hips and fixed him with her darkest scowl. To his credit, Jon flinched. “Take advantage of me? Am I not an adult, Jon? Are my wants not important?”

“Yes, of course, Sansa,” Jon quickly amended. “That’s not what I meant. I… I didn’t think it’d be right. And besides, you never really shown any interest.” He shrugged but there was a smile on his face now. A bit self-deprecating, a bit smug, and all Jon. When had Sansa become so well-versed in his smiles? 

“You never really gave me a chance,” Sansa countered with a similar shrug. “You just avoided me.” In a smaller voice, she admitted. “I hated you because I thought you hated me.” 

Suddenly his warm hands were cupping her face. “Sansa, I could never hate you. Not even when you threw your shoe at my head.” She chuckled and his smile grew. “So do you still hate me?” 

“I don’t know,” Sansa said. “Depends on how much longer it’ll take for you to kiss me again.” 

Jon laughed, a sound that warmed every inch of her rain-soaked body, and kissed her. This time, it was slow but so far from unfeeling. 

It was, in retrospect, this kiss that made Sansa fall in love with him, but she wouldn’t know that for many months to come.  

Prompt from @toreblogallthethings​: Someone having a strong emotional reaction to a particular type of packaging

Alfredo shifted the package beneath his arm and marched up the drive to the blue and white two-storey house. The windowsills needed to be repainted and the siding was pulling away on one corner, but the front yard garden was a tenderly cared for explosion of colour and fragrance. Cars of every type crowded into the drive and along the street in front of the house.

He nodded to the people standing outside smoking and held his breath as he slipped past them. They weren’t anyone he recognized. Not that he was surprised by that. He only knew Deloris and Charles. And Becky, of course. He was a little disappointed that there were so many people at the party, but Becky was a friendly and outgoing young woman. It made sense that she had tons of friends who would want to celebrate her birthday with her.

“You made it!” Becky gave him a big hug and he stumbled through thanking her for inviting him. She smiled and gestured at the box he held. “Did you bring beer? Do you need to put it in the fridge?”

“No, no. It’s a thing, I mean, a gift. For you.”

“You didn’t need to get me anything,” she said, her eyes dancing with excitement.

Alfredo shrugged and hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “I wanted to.”

“Well thank you. Is it appropriate to open in front of everyone, or should I wait and open it later?” Becky asked.

“Uh…it’s not anything bad, er, it’s not embarrassing. I think.”

Becky laughed. “Okay, well, how ‘bout I open it after the BBQ?”

Alfredo nodded and handed the box over. Becky gave him one last smile before disappearing into the crowd.

He drifted from pocket of people to pocket of people. He didn’t know any of them and never felt comfortable enough to join their conversations. The flow of the party eventually pulled him outside where a beefy guy worked the BBQ. Alfredo got a chicken burger and jello salad.

His food was half-finished when Deloris found him. “There you are,” she said, panting lightly. “Becky’s opening presents. Did you get her one like you planned to?”

He nodded and abandoned his paper plate to follow Deloris back inside. Where he’d let the flow of people move him through the house before, he pushed through people until he joined the group clustered around a small table with several brightly wrapped gifts on it. And there was the plain-looking cardboard box he’d brought. He should have told her that the box wasn’t the wrapping, it was just to keep it safe on the bus.

Becky opened a present from her best friend and squealed over the lacy skirt and pastel blouse. Next she opened a gift from a cousin. It was his-and-her towels. Becky was beautifully polite in thanking her cousin, but Alfredo couldn’t imagine how clueless they must be. Becky hadn’t dated anyone since breaking up with her boyfriend six months ago.

His heart pounded when she picked up his box. She flashed him a quick smile before pulling the flaps open. Her face froze as she stared down at the present. Tears glistened on her cheeks and her hands shook when she pulled the present out. Becky’s best friend gasped and shot Alfredo a withering look.

Becky was openly sobbing now, her shoulders shaking and hiccuping cries drawing the attention of more and more people. People were either shocked, angry, or confused. Alfredo was certainly part of that latter group.

Becky dropped the present and fled, shoving her way through the crowd. Her best friend shot him one last glare before following her.

“Where did you get that wrapping?” Deloris asked.

“I bought it at a thrift store,” Alfredo admitted. “I thought it suited her perfectly.”

Deloris shook her head. “It looks just like the wrapping her grandma used to use.”

“You don’t mean–”


“Not that grandma? The one who, y’know, last month–”

Deloris nodded grimly. “The very same.”

“Oh god, I didn’t realize! Becky must think I’m a heartless bastard!”

Deloris frowned. “You’ve been obsessed with her for months. How didn’t you realize what your wrapping looked like?”

“I didn’t realize it was from that grandmother!”

Deloris shook her head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t want to talk to you ever again.

Alfredo groaned and buried his face in his hands. How could he have used the same wrapping that Becky’s grandmother used for the poisoned cookies she gave to Becky’s parents?  It surely must look like a cruel joke to anyone who knew. And worse, it would have brought up all the horrific memories of that awful anniversary party.

Becky would be right to never speak to him again.


Enjoyed this? I’m posting a short piece of original fiction every day in June as a thank you to all my amazing followers. Send me (non fanfic) prompts :)

(CPASS) Counting Petals and Stabbing Skin | Chapter One

Summary: Pastel Dan and his punk boyfriend, Phil, have been in a long distance relationship for the past nine months. All that changes when Phil’s parents move across town and Phil ends up in the same school as Dan. How will Dan and Phil cope with finally being able to see each other everyday and be a “proper” couple?
PastelxPunk (Pastel!Dan and Punk!Phil), High School AU, the things involved in high school and life drama, fluff, and some angst.
@legendarygalaxydragon (I’m also the beta of one of her chaptered fics, “Here’s to the Zeros”. I definitely recommend reading that fic and her other fics!)
Words: 2.6K


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Created By smeno

Asian Bakery & Home

Created for: The Sims 4
t is an asian style bakery with a separated house for the whole family.
The little bakery contains a shop area with displays, a lovely kitchen, 2 bathroom and a terrace with a beautiful view of the asian garden.
The separated, two-storey family house is located in the rear of the lot. It contains 2 bathroom, 3 bedroom(Parents+Kids), kitchen, dining room, living room and a garden with swimming pool and terrace.

There is no CC used in this.

[UNDONE] pt 1

Originally posted by jinkooks


characters :Jung Hoseok,Jeon Jungkook, Min Yoongi, Kim Namjoon, Kim Taehyung, SeokJin, Park Jimin,Y/N

genre:Angst, mafia 

description: mafia was meant as a business, last thing they needed was you coming in to ruin it all .

masterlist   part 2 background information


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Phantasia Forest

I remember Phantasia Forest. I bet I’m one of the few people willing to admit that, and I’m probably the only person who remembers it for all the good instead of all the bad.

I’ll never forget the summer it opened – the summer of 1954. I knew I was in for something special when I saw those massive, brilliantly-colored mushrooms decorating the parking lot. As I marched past the cement toadstools, I came upon a castle. Yes, an honest-to-goodness pink castle. My eight-year-old brain practically exploded.

The first thing that greeted you on the other side of that castle was a sculpture of Humpty Dumpty. He sat perched on his stone wall, pointing you towards the winding path that stretched from one magical scene to the next.

As you walked along, you saw a statue of the Pied Piper leading away a group of hypnotized children. Then there was a big fibreglass shoe with crooked windows and a plastic slide.

Beyond that, you found yourself in front of a two-storey house – only this was the house from “Hansel and Gretel.” The walkway was lined with monstrously large candy canes. Gumdrops were scattered across the gingerbread walls. Chocolate balconies overlooked the garden, and a chimney in the shape of an ice cream cone poked out of the sugar-frosted roof.

You could get lost exploring the gnome village – all those rustic huts and leering faces. Eventually, you arrived at Old MacDonald’s Farm, which was a petting zoo with rabbits, goats, pigs, ducks, sheep, you name it. If you wanted, you could even hitch a ride in Cinderella’s pumpkin coach!

Of course, employees were dressed up everywhere you looked – Alice, Sleeping Beauty, Red Riding Hood, Tom Thumb, even Mother Goose herself. It was a living tribute to the imagination.

You have to understand something – before Phantasia Forest came along, theme parks didn’t exist. Back then, you were lucky to find a few kiddie parks here and there, but frankly, they weren’t much. Some old merry-go-rounds, a couple of dusty ponies, and a bunch of picnic tables covered in bird crap – that was it.

Phil Ballard dreamed of something bigger. Phil was a local businessman. Owned a few different stores around town. Everyone seemed to know Phil. Everyone loved him. Every town probably has a Phil Ballard – the upstanding citizen, always quick with a smile and a handshake.

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A Dirty Dress

My girlfriend is tan brown with long legs and ash brown hair that sits shoulder length. She has green eyes and a tongue sharper than steel. We can banter for hours like vocal tango, or each find our space, going about our musings. All her life my girlfriend has wanted a wedding. I hate the idea of getting married, almost as much as I hate living next to a field of boring old corn. But the day I met her I knew she was the one. After the many trips overseas, the years of evening stories, the many hot chocolates and hot bottles, and of course, the beautiful farm house we bought out in Iowa, I decided it was time to bend the knee.

Our Iowa home is a two storey farm house with enough bedroom to sleep two families. As you come up the driveway the first thing you’ll see are the furnished steps leading up to the patio, with rocking chair, hammock, and glass stained set of table and chairs. The large windows on the first floor give you a peek into our living room, the fireplace, and kitchen. The second storey is much like you’d expect in any old home. There’s also a maroon barn on the right side of the property, with farming tools and a Combine Harvester to collect grain. Behind it all, corn stretches as far as the eye can see. Boring old stinking old corn. I’ve grown used to the stuff, though. Matter of fact it was key to my proposal.

I decided to invite a few buddies out so we could flatten crop in the sun. We worked ourselves wet in those fields while the heat turned skin red. It’s different working on foot, you really get to experience the farm, unlike when you’re in a Harvester, distracted by the rumble and separation of grain. Sometimes I’d look into the dizzying array and feel like something was looking back at me. Matter of fact, a ways into the cornfield I found a cross buried in the dirt, a big one nearly the size of my head. Darn thing spooked me at first, but I got rid of it and put the fear down to the heat making my head go funny.

When the girlfriend came home that day, we zipped to a good friend of mines place and he took us overhead in the chopper. Hell, I ain’t ever seen the corn looking so gorgeous. When my girl glanced out she saw the words marked out by flattened grain ‘MARRY ME’. And so she did. She put the ring right on, and the rest is history. We’ll be married before December.

Can’t say I’ve been happier than that moment. I mean it’s not everyday you meet someone you truly believe can make your life a small slice of heaven. The kinda person you can tell whatever without your mind doing cartwheels. We envisioned a world with kids, smiles and laughter like we were two grown-ups being young again. I took her dress shopping soon after and hell, I ain’t a guy for shopping but I was smiling my face off hoping it would never end.

The fiance chose a vintage inspired dress, one of those delicate ones with the half-sleeves and laces, it even had a bit of satin ribbon around the waist. Watching the fiance twirl in that dress made my head spin like I was back in grade school. We bought the dress and had our last name sewn on one of the inner hems, it was the girl’s idea, said this was about us. The month after that was amazing, simply magical.

During the second month our world was rocked. We woke up on a morning that was no different than any other, with the sun blaring through the room window, and the corn swaying like it does all day. The fiance hopped outta bed and went to admire her dress in the walk-in wardrobe. Her usual glee was replaced by a scream. I darted from the bed and to her. That’s when I saw it, the dress which was usually snow white was covered in dirt, dirt like someone had been running through the fields all night.

My first approach was to have it dry cleaned. But every night the dress would go into the closet clean and by the morning it would be covered in dirt. The fiance ranted with tears in her eyes that this was a bad omen. According to her, the dress was haunted, the house wanted haunted, the whole damn thing was haunted. It was hard to disagree.

When we changed the dress for a new one, the same thing happened, and so she pined for the old one back. But we were all out of ideas, and the fiance was talking about all of this being a bad idea. I sent her away to the sisters so she could get some peace of mind. She went, reluctantly. My mind told me that something strange was definitely going on, but that the spirit was not nearly as devious or creative as my fiance’s imagination. I got in touch with our local priest.

The priest blessed our home and advised a bible stand with a cross around the dress each night. He put a bowl of holy water in there as well, just incase. By the morning, the Bible, the dress, and cross were all covered in dirt. The holy water was black.

I removed the objects, keeping the cross around my neck for peace of mind. That night I stayed up watching over the dress in the hopes I could deal with the entity. While the sky was dark the dress remained untouched, but the moment light beamed on the horizon, blotches of dirt appeared on the dress before my very eyes. I’d seen some things, but this, this made my insides feel like jelly.

One of the fellas advised me about a local Imam, the Arabic equivalent of a priest. I didn’t know much about the middle east, besides what you saw on the news. Most of that would make anyone apprehensive. But I was desperate, and the guy was in town on a mission to do good, so I made a call. He saw me without so much as a hiccup.

The Imam was in a motel on the outskirts of town. Never smelled such a strong smokey scent like I did when I walked in his room, but I noticed he was burning two black sticks near the door, he mentioned something about cleansing the environment. In my world, that made this guy the expert of oddities.

He was an old man dressed in a shirt and pants, with a white religious cap on his head and a long beard.

“How have your travels been?” I asked, sitting in a single seater across from the Imam with the dress draped over my lap.

He scratched at his beard, lips growing into a smirk that showed the creases of his tan skin. “We are welcome in some places, others we are viewed as a plague.”

“The news has a bad grip on some people,” I said. “Does your expertise revolve much around … this kind of thing?”

The Imam glanced at the dress. “Marriage? Love?”

Maybe he’d misunderstood my explanation over the phone. “The unexplainable things that have been going on,” I said.

“Just a poor soul in love then?” the Imam asked.

I chuckled, realising that he was having me on, if somewhat subtly. The man was likeable, to say the least, but he had a different style to him, the best way I can explain it is that his energy seemed unnatural in its own way. It’s the kind of vibe you’d expect from someone who dabbles with the unknown, almost like a mystic. He held his arm out for the dress, and I obliged.

“The nights are long for those who wish to pray and the days are short for resting,” he said, more to himself.

“What do I have to do to make it stop?” I asked.

“Man cannot stop the night any more than he can keep the sun from rising,” the Imam said. “You should endure with graceful patience.”

I’d done a lot these past few days that hadn’t worked out, but none of which felt like wasted time. The fact I’d come this way to be told I had to wait made the very frustration of failure simmer to the surface. The Imam caught the shift in my demeanour but smiled instead.

“Very well,” he said. “I will come with you, and tonight we will go for a walk.”

“Will this stop whatever this thing is?” I asked.

The Imam chuckled. “That is not for us to decide.”

That night we left the warm confines of my house for the cornfields. I brought my cross with me and initially thought about bringing the shotgun, but the Imam rejected such a notion. I tried my best not to be spooked as he led the way. The Imam would pause every few minutes in the field as if he was going somewhere specific.

The fields felt unfamiliar to me as if we could get lost in the darkness out here forever. Each strip of corn reached overhead blocking out the moon and the stars, and as we pulled corn to move forward, another would sway into its place, making distance and bearings difficult to judge.

We might have been walking for hours when the Imam finally stopped, kneeling down and running his fingers through the dirt. I could barely make out the white cap on his head in the dark, and he’d decided to wear robes which were now dirty at the hems.

The Imam parted corn in front of us and for the first time in hours I saw light. It hit my retina in a way that both blinded me and left a lingering floater in my vision. Rubbing helped bring things back to normal but didn’t do much for the ache.

As we looked through the gap, the light revealed itself as a bonfire, one which was crackling with intensity, and give life to finger like shadows that stretched out to the half a dozen people surrounding it. They were dressed formally, in what looked like clothing my mother or father might wear to a formal occasion. The men were dressed in black suits, the woman in fashionable dresses, and holding the group’s attention were a young man in a black suit with a moustache who danced with a woman in a wedding dress.

My fiance’s wedding dress.

“Why those little …” I grumbled, shifting forward to push through the corn and give them a piece of my mind.

The Imam grabbed my arm, staring me down with surprising ferocity. “Don’t you dare.”

It took willpower but I settled, deciding to heed his words but annoyed that he was letting these people go to town with stolen property while trespassing on my property.

“Do not speak to them or look at them,” the Imam whispered, letting the corn sway together. “I will handle that part. All is not what it seems, but we have been granted an invitation.”

I shrunk back as understanding dawned. The old clothing, the dancing in the middle of nowhere, the unexplainable markings on the dress each morning. The Imam waited for my acknowledgement, which was given as a small nod. This was enough, he beckoned me to followed and stepped through the corn.

When we entered, the people cheered for us and explained how they had been waiting so long for our arrival. They invited us to the fire, all of which I participated in silently, and then introduced themselves to the Imam. He asked about their stories, finding out the details of what had brought them here.

The visitors mentioned they had been on their way to the wedding when they got lost. Apparently, the bride had been in a car with her mother and the groom’s father had been driving with some of the best men and the priest. They all spoke about a bad car crash, but none of them remembered who had been involved or where it had happened. Matter of fact they couldn’t recall much of their past, from where they lived, to how the people they were meeting looked. What seemed most important was that the groom was now here to carry out the wedding vows, a moment they had waited a long time for, and a phrase which they said while nodding at me.

As the night wore on, singing and dancing increased in intensity, the Imam and I watched in silence. The priest approached us wearing a cross and holding a Bible, he said that it was time. The Imam stepped aside and motioned to me.

I stood next to the young bride, my clothing taking on the appearance of a suit. Her pale skin glowed under the fire light, her icy fingers interlocked in mine. The priest said what was needed and we both gave our vows. They asked me to kiss the bride and it took one glance at the Imam to know that this was something I had to do. I pressed my lips against hers, feeling the cold shudder the length of my spine.

The group began singing then. We held hands and danced in front of the flames. While dancing I placed my hand on her back, pressing the part of the dress where my family name had been sowed in the hem. Sure enough, it was there.

“I just love this dress,” the girl said. “Don’t you love it, Dean?”

I looked into her eyes then and saw a face filled with deep love as if she was looking at someone else, someone she knew. My palm dwarfed her cheek as I cupped the side of her cold face. The girl’s eyes were filled with longing.

“It’s very beautiful,” I said. “I’m glad I made it tonight.”

“I couldn’t wait to dance,” she said. “You’ll dance all night, won’t you?”

“Is that what you want?” I asked. She nodded.

“Good,” I said. “That’s what I want too.”

And I did. I wanted to give her these few hours. She buried her face in my shoulder as we danced to the tunes. I imagined how her heart might be soaring as she shared this moment with her true groom. I felt my heart break with each step, and I couldn’t help but give a sad but acknowledging smile, knowing this should have been for real so long ago. But fate rarely treats us in the way we hope, or the way we feel it should. And so we danced, danced until the men in suits stopped singing and returned to the concealment of the corn. Until the sky turned a shade of purple and she stepped back bidding me farewell. I lifted the cross from around my neck and placed it on hers. And the bride gave me one last peck on my cheek.

The Imam and I waited until daylight struck the horizon and then turned for home with the sun on our backs and the silence of cornfields around us.

My fiance has since returned and the dress is a beautiful white every night and every morning. I told her that it had been a fault with the wardrobe itself. I didn’t go into details, and she didn’t ask for them.

After researching the history of our cornfields I found out that there used to be dirt a road going through this area some time ago. Apparently, there had been a freak crash where the bride and some of the groomsmen had collided vehicles. How it happened or why fate had been so cruel remains a mystery, but that would explain the large cross I found out in the field.

My fiance and I sometimes sit out on the porch and have a drink all the while looking at the corn. It ain’t such a dumb boring old sight anymore. She usually mentions how the way it moves is spooky and that she feels like people could be watching and we wouldn’t even know. I usually laugh this one off, telling her that I like the cornfields. Truth is, she’s on the money, there’s a hell of a lot more than corn out there.

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