#⁺ . ✕ ◞ thread: fourth rate deck ⋅

[tacitanis]

iago shifted in place a little, almost imperceptibly. the game itself was not overly complicated. he had familiarized himself with the rules, more or less, and the artwork that decorated each card. there was nothing that really stood out to him, but watching others with it had him—curious.

iago had always been easily bored, easily curious.

this was how he had ended up observing the game more closely than perhaps he would have otherwise. so close, in fact, that he had a hand of cards before him, as he squinted to read the minuscule text on each which describes what it could do. the man across from was, he hoped, equally new to the game. but if he was not, well, iago was a fast learner.

traps were particularly interesting to him, cards whose effects could not be easily discerned by the enemy. could he lay a whole hand of traps at once? much to consider. he glanced at the man across from him. the meat-headed sort, he supposed, though he was never one to fully underestimate an opponent. they could surprise you in nasty ways if you do that.

“is there a typical turn order? never mind, you will go first, won’t you?”

@sayhwaet

𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙖 (𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨) 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙙-𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙙𝙪𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝-𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙠

recovery | authority.

[happyely2]

Pairing: Portuguese D. Ace x Fem!Reader

Rating: For everyone, even if there will be mentions of blood, physical and mental wounds, needles for stitching wounds and some small hints of cuddles (the right amount, because we like it that way). If you are sensitive to descriptions of blood or wounds skip the story. At times comical and at times a little sadder, I hope you enjoy this one as well as Cozy Autumn Prompts.

Summary: Being the girlfriend of Portgas D. Ace, the infamous pirate commander of Whitebeard's second fleet, isn't always easy. You know well that life as a pirate is a constant gamble, but every now and then you just want your man - and all the people you care about - to return to your room without wounds to patch up. It's fine that you're a scrupulous and attentive nurse, but damn these men don't have the slightest bit of restraint when they have to attack a ship or a new island, and Ace is the first to throw himself into the fray, but you love him so much that you are willing to always take care of him.

🪡Taking care of a lover’s injury 🪡

“Oh God, what happened?!” You whispered as you caught a bottle of alcohol that was about to fall to the floor. The ship had been shaken by a violent blow, it was as if someone had rammed into it and if someone had succeeded it must have been a very large ship.

“Put all glass bottles safely away and prepare emergency kits. I'm afraid we'll have twice as much work to do today!” You said to your colleagues as you adjusted your white shirt so that it wouldn't get in your way during the fight.

The New World was increasingly full of hotheads who aimed to become important pirates and to do so they targeted the ships of the big boys. Calm and tranquility were words unknown to Moby Dick.

"Goodmorning sweetheart! How was your morning?” Satch and the other men had set up a trench with the kitchen and dining room tables, you ducked to dodge the bullets and stood next to the commander of the fourth division, while the latter loaded a rifle with gunpowder to pass it to one of your companions.

“It could have been better! Who is attacking us?” You said as you opened your bag to get needle, thread and some alcohol, some of your people had been hit by bullets and needed to be treated immediately, quickly extract the bullets and stitch them up to avoid losing a limb or too much blood.

“A rookie, he has a stupid Mohawk. What poor taste.” Izo was next to you and in a short time he had fired three shots that all hit, but the enemies seemed to multiply. Meanwhile, you had finished stitching the leg of one of your companions who immediately picked up the rifle again and started shooting.

“Be careful, I just got the stitches!” You said while you were taking care of another wounded man, this time he had been hit under the cheekbone and almost lost his eye.

Luckily the barricades protected most of your comrades from even more serious injury, but the rifle fire continued to rage.

“We're running out of bullets here, we need to move on to strong weapons.” Satch was next to you, sooner or later the enemies would have to run out of cartridges you thought as you carefully looked at the enemy fence, those bastards were making excuses with thick metal shields.

“The main bridge? Do you have any news?" You asked quickly gathering your stuff inside your bag and placing it over your shoulder. Attacking the left flank where the kitchens and infirmary were located was a dirty diversion, your enemies were aiming for the main deck where Whitebeard generally remained to dictate orders, the left flank was less controlled than the others.

“None, they cut off communication, but everyone else is here, I don't think there will be any problems.” Izo said as he handed you a spare slugphone: “Try this one, it's another line.” He said as he continues shooting wounding five more enemies.

"Ready? This is the kitchen, main deck, can you hear me?”

“Main deck, we hear you loud and clear Miss.” Vista's voice made you breathe again, even though suspicious noises could be heard in the background.

“The Vista situation?” You asked without wasting any time, your other companions were arriving with more medical supplies, ready to follow you to the main deck.

“A bit bad, we have too many wounded among the new recruits. Nobody seems to be serious, Santa is organizing the boarding of the opposing ship." Vista replied as a sword blow could be heard cutting something in the background.

“Dad needs to rest dammit! Satch we have to pass now, there are injuries that need to be treated.” You said as you ended the conversation. Whitebeard may have been one of the most feared men in the New World, but at that time the treatments he was undergoing were so delicate that they could aggravate his physical situation.

Furthermore, the enemies had chosen a perfect day to attack, Marco had gone to deliver important messages to your allies, without the first commander you were at a disadvantage, his phoenix power was very useful in those situations and if Marco was missing it only meant a what: Ace was about to lead the boarding of the enemy ship.

The cook didn't have to be told twice and his entire division went on the attack while Izo's covered his back. It took some time before you and the other nurses made it to the command bridge safe and sound because neither Satch nor Izo would let anything happen to you, and once you got there you immediately started rescuing your crew.

Maybe Vista didn't want to alarm you, but the situation was quite inconvenient. You just hoped you wouldn't have to amputate any limbs.

“More enemies are coming!” Fossa, the captain of the fifteenth division, had raised the alarm. There was too many wounded who needed to be transported below deck, the infirmary would not have contained them all.

“Damn this was a trap.” You said as you approached the railing to check with your own eyes, the girls behind you were working to treat those who were at greater risk.

Four more enemy ships were arriving at great speed.

Your captain's laughter made you all spin. It was like him to laugh in those situations: “Let them come, they will only find defeat waiting for them.” Luckily Whitebeard wasn't injured, you breathed a sigh of relief and continued to move the injured below deck, so that they were safe and could be better cared for by the ship's doctor, you and your colleagues.

The cannon shots seemed to tickle your ship, but they were becoming closer and more precise.

Whitebeard had given the order to return fire and so all the men got busy.

“We need to get off that damned ship.” Satch said as he leaned out to see the damage, with the figurehead they had entered well into the side, destroying part of your house, you were with the fourth commander to understand the damage and to see if there were men to recover, they certainly were medical supplies have been affected.

“Ace comes here!” You said catching the second commander running across the bridge. Damn he was hurt! That idiot had gotten himself hurt and he had a Logia as a fruit of the sea.

“Love you are here! I didn't see you and I feared the worst. How is it going, do we have so many injured people?” He asked turning towards you and smiling warmly at you, she hugged you instinctively to check that you weren't hurt.

Either he was under the influence of a huge amount of adrenaline or Ace had such a high perception of pain that those injuries didn't bother him. This was a question you would never find the answer to.

“How the hell did they hit you? Ah, you're bleeding, stop here..." You looked at the long wound on his chest and the one on his right arm worriedly, his devil fruit made it difficult to stop the wound because the blood was too liquid due to the heat that his body was giving off.

“Some have Algamalotite weapons. They also resist my attacks which is why it took us longer.” He said Ace showing one of the weapons in question to the rest of the crew. He then explained how traps were scattered around the ship which had injured other people that his men were bringing on board.

Better and better.

“Where did they get them?” Asked Halta as he looked at her carefully, the workmanship of the sword was good, too good to have been made by any one person.

“We'll deal with this later. We need to free the ship and sort out the ones that are coming.” You said taking a needle and thread to saturate Ace's wounds, but your girlfriend stopped you in time and after placing his hair on her head he headed towards the Strider: "I can block them if I move now."

“ACE COME BACK HERE NOW!” You shouted trying to follow him but were quickly stopped by Izo before you jumped off the ship to chase him.

“Don't worry, he is not alone.” He told you looking up at the sky, Marco was back and was following Ace to give him back up.

“I swear that as soon as he comes back I'll sew him up properly!” You said the same as you watched the two commanders strike at the opposing ships. Whitebeard laughed loudly, commenting that you young people were so carefree that he envied you a little.

You sighed and turned towards the main deck, there were less serious injuries waiting to be treated and recovery operations to be carried out, so you rolled up your sleeves and started patching up your companions while who was still all entire effort was made to free the ship.

A couple of explosions followed one another in the following hours, marking the end of the fight. Ace and Marco had laid waste to the enemy ships and were returning, the strider was going slower than its normal speed and Marco was flying too low for his standards.

“Go on and check that everything is in one piece, big sister, we'll take care of it here.” Said one of your colleagues while you finished stitching a wound. You left the final directions and grabbed a new medical kit before heading to the main deck.

As soon as you arrived you immediately noticed the two commanders surrounded by the others who were asking for details of everything and more.

“Before you ask for anything, let me patch them up.” You said as you opened your bag and took out everything you needed, no one dared to argue. Marco had been wounded by the same weapons that had hit Ace, but his devil fruit was already taking effect so you fixed a couple of bandages and disinfected the wounds well, until you noticed a deeper one on his shoulder and that's when you cursed.

Ace was worse than a rag, lying on the ground and with his head spinning, he was kept conscious by Satch and Izo. He had lost too much blood, that imbecile.

You breathed in and out to calm yourself down and started lecturing them both, while everyone else laughed out loud.

“ESPECIALLY YOU ACE! IDIOT!" You said as you took the bottle of alcohol and opened it to clean the wound on your arm, it was deep, but it hadn't severed the nerves or any important blood vessels, Marco meanwhile was rearranging his shirt and was careful not to damage the stitches you had put.

“Stop squirming Ace!” You told him while using alcohol.

“That stuff bothers me.” Your boyfriend said with a grimace, then he told what had happened on one of the ships, that he had found other Algamalotite weapons, which now lay on the bottom of the sea and which all bore the same symbol, a skull with a sword that it pierced him in half.

There had been no need for anesthetic, the adrenaline was doing his job.

A couple of sutures later and you had completed the job, while Ace had finished his report: "I don't like this." You said as you put your tools back, everyone agreeing with you, it wasn't a normal Jolly Roger, it looked more like an anti-piracy symbol.

Ace leaned on your shoulder and held you close to him for reassurance, you all suspected that a fight like that was something premeditated and thought out down to the smallest detail, it was no coincidence that they attacked you at such a time. Marco's absence and the fact that we were without your other ships must have studied you for a very long time.

And if they had done something like this, none of you could rule out the possibility that they had thoroughly studied every single member of the crew.

“Daddy have you taken your medicine?” You asked turning to your captain. Ace was worried about that question too, because he knew how meticulous you were about reminding old Whitebeard about his medications.

“I hadn't gotten them yet. Are you afraid of something?” The man replied, then taking his favorite bottle of sake. Sooner or later you would have had to lock him up.

“It was too strange an attack dad, they hit us knowing our weak points too well.” He said Ace sensing your thoughts, thinking about it now, ramming the Moby Dick with a large ship on which traps and strong men were positioned was a diversion that didn't convince any of you.

Marco meanwhile was taking note of everything that needed to be repaired while with one ear he paid attention to the direction the conversation was taking.

“Attack or not, we should be more careful, anyone who can walk come and repair the ship, or at least let's try to fix it to get to the next island. Little sister tries to fix as many men as possible and give me an inventory of the medicines we lost." The first commander said, starting to give orders, conspiracies and suspicions would wait for the evening, for now you had to fix the damage suffered.

"See you this evening." She said Ace in your ear and leaving you his hat.

“Don't overdo it too much as the stitches might pop out and no devil fruit Ace.” You told him as you watched him run towards the hole to be repaired together with all the other men. You then gave the medicine to Father, because you always kept a reserve supply in case he didn't take it, and you said goodbye to both him and Marco to go below deck.

You had men to stitch up and put back together, and many of them.

“How bad is it?” You asked Satch in the late afternoon when you went to see how the men were doing, who as soon as they had been stitched up and treated had rushed to repair the ship, without even receiving the green light. And Ace was among them, not only had he rushed to free the ship, but due to the injuries he had suffered and the loss of blood he had also fallen into the sea and Satch and Izo had jumped in to save him.

Now your boyfriend was sleeping blissfully on top of your legs, covered in bandages from head to toe.

“It could have been worse, luckily the ship is repaired and thanks to you girls the men are back in shape immediately, or at least all of them and there is no one missing.” He said the cook as he took off his yellow handkerchief to wipe away the sweat. They had taken all the surviving crates of food and placed them safely on the other side of the ship.

“I hate how Ace put himself in situations like these.” You said while stroking his black hair rocking him to sleep, you knew him well, he had squeezed out every last crumb of his fire, he had saved many of your companions but this would have put him out of action for quite a while in the days to follow.

Satch laughed heartily and then helped you carry Ace into his cabin, you checked on him one last time and went out leaving him a note on the bedside table, in which you warned him that you would be back later.

You continued your tour with your colleagues, you had distributed medicines and painkillers to the men and then you went downstairs to take inventory of the medicines. By writing everything down meticulously, you realized that the situation wasn't the best.

“We've lost more than half of them Marco, and I can't ration the supplies we have because they don't even cover a third of the crew.” You said as you handed him the report you had made.

The first commander read the numbers you had collected, despite everything he remained apparently calm.

“We have to grit our teeth for a while, we have two days of sailing to the next island, with the ship in these conditions. We will have to work miracles." Phoenix said as he put down the book and checked the route she had chosen. Under normal conditions the Moby Dick would have arrived in less than half a day, but the ship risked taking on water and one of her engines was showing signs of failure.

Resisting for two days in those conditions, with the adverse weather of the New World would not have been so easy.

“Don't worry about my shoulder it's already recovering, go see Ace.” He told you immediately afterwards with a hint of a smile to reassure you, Marco had seen Ace fight and had confided in you that his health conditions worried him a bit.

“Okay, see you later Marco.” You replied, but not before leaving him a couple of painkillers. You quickly left the door and went towards Ace's room, the dining room was destroyed, so the fourth division would have brought food to everyone else and many accommodations were in bad shape, the men had organized themselves as best they could with mattresses, bunks and hammocks in the corridor.

You went to the infirmary to see if there was any news but your "little sisters" reassured you that everything was fine, you still said to call you in any case. They would have slept in the infirmary, because your rooms had also been hit.

When you entered Ace's room you didn't expect to see him already standing, you sighed and closed the door behind you joining him.

“Hey Love!” He greeted you with his usual smile, as if nothing had happened, you huffed but also smiled, luckily Ace seemed to be indestructible.

“You should stay in bed and rest.” You told him as you checked his bandages, they needed to be changed and surely a few stitches had popped off.

So you didn't waste any time and made him lie down on the bed, not without some protests.

“Wounds like this take longer to heal Ace.” You told him as you sutured him again, you had given him a shot of anesthetic, at least to not make him feel pain but his devil fruit quickly burned what was injected into his body, it was no small problem.

Ace was trying not to say a word or let out a single cry of pain, he was trying to hold on so as not to worry you further.

“I know it hurts, honey, I promise it's just for a few more seconds.” You said, better fixing the last stitch that had opened and then bandaging everything with a thicker and tighter bandage, at least in this way the stitches would have to hold up for the night.

Ace threw himself on you, complaining a little about the rest of his body hurting, so you asked to show you where he hurt. You discovered that he had at least a dozen bruises scattered here and there.

So you rolled up your sleeves and took some lotion from your bag to sober them up it can be absorbed more quickly.

“What is it Love?” Ace asked you as he ran his hand through your hair to caress you, he could see that you were tense.

“I hate seeing you in pain.” You responded, leaning against one of the pillows on Ace's bed. You had rubbed lotion on him and now you were lying next to each other. You traced the outline of his abs with your fingertips and with a light touch so as not to hurt him.

“One sleep and I'll be as good as new.” He said Ace smiling at you and kissing the tip of your nose, then your cheeks and finally his lips. He was an incurable romantic.

“If everyone were like you. We have two days of travel ahead of us, said Marco, supplies of food and medicines must be heavily rationed, but luckily no one has lost their lives." You said caressing his face and lingering more on his cheeks to play with their softness.

“It'll be fine, you'll see, we've faced worse and Marco will have chosen a fairly calm route.” Your boyfriend had taken your hands to bring them close to his lips to kiss them. He then slowly went up until he reached your neckline where he rested without asking your permission: "You're an excellent pillow and I'll recover faster this way." Ace had started purring like a cat rubbing against you and you had laughed, not chasing him away but holding him tighter to you.

“Are you still thinking about the symbol you saw?” You asked after a while, noticing the serious look that Ace had made while looking at the sea from the porthole of your cabin.

“Yes, I don't know why but I have a strange feeling.” And that strange feeling more simply translated into trouble ahead.

“They could hang up on us but they know that at this point Dad might intervene with his devil fruit.” You said playing with the locks of his hair, they had grown a little more, he would have to cut them soon.

“You know his power is so strong that it would wipe out the continent, and then I don't think it would be good for his health.” Ace had started drawing invisible circles on your back, slowly and in an almost hypnotic manner.

“Someone here doesn't want to sleep…” You whispered in his ear making your lover smirk.

“Come on Love, so I can heal faster.” Ace breathed on your neck allowing a rush of shivers to travel down your spine.

“You are recovering.” You insisted, standing up and straddling him.

“In fact, I won't make any movements, you will do everything, are you my personal nurse or not, Love?” Ace's warm hands ran along your sides rubbing against the bones of your pelvis, he knew that was a delicate spot of yours and that you loved when he squeezed it like that.

You held back a moan, just to not give him satisfaction, but the blush on your face made him smirk again.

“So I have full control? Can I start this visit?” You asked as you unhooked the clasp of your bra and Ace helped you take it off throwing it away on the floor of his room.

You wore a white top that tied in a bow at the back of your neck, it was Ace's favorite.

“Of course Love.” Ace had settled in better, he loved it when you took control in bed, it was a shame you weren't wearing a uniform.

You didn't have to be told twice and you gave him a kiss on the lips, then moving down to his chin, to his neck where you bit a little harder, drawing a small sigh of satisfaction from him, and then continuing your descent of kisses on his his abdomen.

Here you were a little more careful not to bite too hard and you helped yourself with your hands to tease him a little more. You traced the grooves of his muscles with your fingertips and went down to the V carved on his groin and dared to bite a little harder.

You smiled as you saw Ace's gaze starting to become full of lust.

You wasted no time fiddling with his belt, you knew it too well by now and knew how to remove it quickly.

“So far the control seems to be going well.” You said while playing with the elastic of his boxers.

"You say? I keep feeling something isn't right." He had said, caressing your cheek with his warm palm which you rubbed against.

You were about to continue, wanting to give him more pleasure, until the alarm went off all over the deck of the ship and made you freeze on the spot.

“Fuck.” He cursed Ace as you quickly got dressed to go check. You rushed out of his cabin to find yourself in a critical situation.

They were attacking you.

“I thought we were past the bad part.” She said Ace as you two reached the main deck. The sound of bombs hitting near the ship.

“These people here don't intend to give in, they attacked us waiting for us halfway.” Satch had arrived before you and handed you the binoculars to get a better look.

“That's ten ships! But what do they think they are doing!” You said as Ace grabbed your waist and quickly lowered you to avoid a cannon shot, he had grazed your head.

“They have the same symbol as the others, they must be allies.” Izo said taking cover as well.

“There's only one thing left to do, let's attack them.” Ace was about to come out, the Moby Dick was surrounded, Marco stopped him in time.

“It's not the right time yet.” The first commander had said, the ships were not within range, the snail near us had started to ring incessantly.

“This is the infirmary, where is the big sister?”

“I'm here, what's happening?”

“They hit us and we are seriously injured, come help us quickly.”

Damn, that's all you needed, more serious injuries to operate on in a situation like this.

"I am coming." You said, closing the conversation and turning to Ace: “Don't bullshit honey.” You told him and he smiled back at you.

“Go save our comrades.”

You ran downstairs to find yourself in total chaos, you quickly rinsed your hands and immediately put on gloves, there wasn't a second of time to waste.

“The situation upstairs?” One of your companions asked, handing you the tools to remove the pieces of wood that had stuck inside the body of one of your shipmates.

“Quieter than ours. The commanders were pissed off." You responded by starting to extract the largest pieces and immediately moving on to disinfecting and suturing.

The roars of some cannon shots or the sound of swords being drawn did not distract any of you while you operated.

You had lives to save and no one would die on your ship.

Twelve hours later the infirmary was a mess of needles, bottles of painkillers, scalpels, various instruments and blood. But fortunately all the most critical patients were stable, even those who had injured themselves on the command bridge and had been rushed to the infirmary.

The battle above had ended with the explosion of the enemy ships and Whitebeard had also played his part, he had regulated his power but this had cost him his health.

“Don't you dare lie. I can see it hurts.” You said as you set up his new IVs and increased the dose of antibiotic and painkiller to make him feel better.

“Enough is enough.” He replied, placing a hand on your shoulder: “You did a great job, you and the girls.” He added, looking at each member of his crew covered in bandages and painkillers.

You smiled, forcing yourself a little, the adrenaline in your body was starting to decrease: “Thanks dad.” Ace was next to you, his bandages stained with blood, but he was well enough to stand and support you. The fight had burdened him and despite this he also had responsibilities as a commander, he had to grit his teeth and set a good example for all your men.

Marco examined the nautical charts, the ship had suffered further damage and navigation would become more difficult, the island you wanted to reach was too far away.

“Hey…but that's an island!” You couldn't believe your colleagues' words, the girls were leaning over the bridge to get a better look.

In the end they were right, an island had appeared on your horizon.

“Marco please there is an island we can go to.” You had talked to the other girls, and all of you had introduced yourself to the first commander to convince him to go down to the island that you had spotted that morning at the first light of dawn when the smoke from the other ships had cleared.

Ace had tried to dissuade you, but he had no say in the matter.

“It is not part of our territories.” The first commander said while drinking his cup of bitter coffee.

“And whose would it be?” You asked for all your colleagues as Ace tried to calm you down. The island was only two hours away from you, you could have stopped to stock up on food, repair the ship and treat the wounded better.

“Del Rosso.” Marco replied, cursing himself for having taught us girls to navigate and knowing how to read a map and he cursed himself even more for having answered, the girls and you, hearing that name, had headed to Whitebeard to tell him to dock on the island immediately.

“They don't have a shred of restraint.” Satch had said, understanding well that landing on an island belonging to another emperor was not something prudent.

“It's Shanks the Red, of all people it's the best guess that could have happened to us.” Ace said, your boyfriend hadn't moved an inch after you glared at him, as if to say either you're on my side or I'll kill you. You could have a civil discussion with him, but it was still a risk.

“The problem is that knowing them they would face it without even thinking about it. Especially your girlfriend Ace.” He had said Izo, adjusting his Kimono to hide a bandage.

“Don't tell me anything, I have no say in the matter.” She said Ace, resigning herself to the fact that when you set your mind to something you managed to get it done. The boys started laughing heartily, your fervent spirit had brought back some joy to the crew.

In the end however, partly due to everyone's tiredness and partly because it was urgent to repair the ship, you had prevailed and for this reason you headed towards the island.

You could have expected anything when you got off, but not to find the Red's crew on dry land.

“Hey Whitebeard!” He had greeted the emperor with his usual smile that you couldn't identify. It was an idiotic smile. That's what the only explanation was.

"Red."

“Please, no fights.” You said, placing yourself between the two and glaring at both of them. You were sick of a lot of clashes and battles. The deathmatch for the sake of the good old days could wait.

No displays of Haki, no weapons being drawn. You breathed a sigh of relief and left the two emperors chatting while Marcus began supervising the construction of a camp. The redhead's crew also helped you, Ace was right to say that of all the emperors Shanks was the best case that could have happened to you.

Six hours later you were finally leaving the infirmary you had set up to get some fresh air. You had rechecked all your patients, fixed and splinted broken legs, destroyed wrists and sprained arms, all injuries that the men had hidden from you and for which they had received a severe lecture.

“The injured, even the serious ones, fortunately, they are all stable. Two days and they'll be as good as new.” You reported to your captain, explaining who the most critical ones were and what medicines needed to be taken as soon as possible.

“The ship has suffered quite a bit of damage, we should stop here for at least a week.” Marco said, listing the damage suffered, and it was quite a bit, but luckily it could be repaired.

The meeting was going to last late and Ace noticed the bags under your eyes and the fact that you couldn't pay attention. The lack of sleep was making itself felt.

“You should rest.” She had told you, making you sit on him. Nobody had said anything, in fact the discussions had continued.

“I will rest when I need it.” You said, trying to continue listening, even though the warmth of her body was an invitation to sleep, you had to resist. Three hours later, in the late afternoon you had emerged from the meeting room tent. From what had emerged, Red and his men had also been attacked in a similar manner a few days earlier and from the rumors circulating, an alliance seemed to have formed to eliminate the old emperors.

Better and better. If this was true you would have expected a clash in the days when you set sail again.

It was better to go and stock up on medicines.

“Let's go get the medicines from the village and come back.” You had told Ace leaving a kiss on his cheek. You had quickly changed by borrowing one of his shirts.

“Are you sure I don't have to come with you?” Ace didn't want to let you wander around alone, ok you were with your colleagues but he still preferred you to avoid it, despite everything there were bounties hanging on your heads that would have attracted many bounty hunters, but the sooner you went to get the medicine the sooner you could go back to him you answered him.

“Sure, just think about regaining your strength.” Ace had collapsed a few seconds after you had left the meeting room, sleep, narcolepsy and the wounds that had not healed had drained him of his last strength and carrying him to his tent had been a titanic undertaking.

“We'll be back in three hours.” You reassured him and left the tent, going to the girls and walking towards the nearest town.

Three hours later you returned as you promised and the whole crew breathed a sigh of relief that had not gone unnoticed by any of us.

“What do you want me to tell you, our nurses are known to be quite troublesome.” You could finally treat Ace with the right dose of painkillers and antibiotics, one that she would only wear off the next evening.

“We troublemakers?” You laughed as you took some cotton and soaked it in alcohol, you had to clean the wound on his chest and Ace was already glaring at you.

“Don't be such a baby, it's just rubbing alcohol.” You said placing it on his chest and pressing softly. Luckily the stitches hadn't broken in the previous clash.

“I never liked that thing.” Ace said glaring at the new cotton ball that was getting closer to his wound.

He was a child.

You gave him a kiss on the cheek to distract him and it happened.

“Big sister!” One of your girls had entered the tent: “Did I interrupt something?” She asked then noticing how you looked. You sitting on Ace's lap in a position that couldn't be misunderstood.

“No don't worry dear, tell me everything.” You responded, taking the gauze and starting to bandage it. Ace's torso, your boyfriend wanted to say otherwise but he held back.

“We found some natural hot springs, you have to come and bathe with us now! Commander Ace I'm commandeering our head nurse for the next two hours.” Your subordinate had said, grabbing you by the shoulders and dragging you out of the tent.

"HEY!" Ace was following you ready to catch you but the other girls prevented him: "This evening will be all for you, but for now we want to be with the big sister."

Luckily Izo and Satch had grabbed Ace by the shoulders and carried him to the other side to distract him. Telling him that it was right to leave some space for us girls.

“You are impossible, I don't even have a costume!” You said as the two of you arrived at the shores of the Hot Springs.

“Who said you need a swimsuit, we are all women!”

After all, they were right, but you regretted not spending time with Ace, you had been interrupted a few too many times for your liking in those hectic days, the only thing you wanted was to spend some intimate time with the your boyfriend.

But the thermal water was a panacea for your nerves that you would regret in the next few days. Only you girls, no man nearby and a lot of calm interrupted here and there by some otters that came close to smell you, were the inhabitants of that place and we had taken a liking to you.

There was so much calm that at a certain point you couldn't stand it anymore. You kind of missed the chaotic life that was with your sailing companions, but you missed Ace so much, you wanted to go and hug him, lock yourself in his tent and stay with him all night.

The spa had only partially dissipated the stress you had accumulated during those days, you knew well how to dispose of the remaining part with your fiery boyfriend.

“I'd say we go back to camp.” You said as you walked out and put on your underwear and white top. The cold air of the evening went perfectly with the feeling of warmth that the spa had left in you and this had made you even more nostalgic for Ace, usually he was the one who created that sensation that you liked so much.

"Already? But can't we stay a little longer?”

“It's been more than two hours, they'll be worried about us.” You replied as you looked around for your shorts and trying not to fall on the otter pups that must have been spinning around frantically. What naughty little brats.

“But boss, we're not enjoying this calm!”

“That's right and men can be alone, what could happen?”

You looked at each of your friends and just your look was enough to convince them that it was best to go back. You could already imagine what could happen to that rowdy gang of Pirates with the absence of you girls.

“We will come here more times in the next few days.” You finally said making the others laugh, they all agreed to go back to having some relaxation: "They took my shorts!" You added as you weaved through the vegetation to look for them.

The girls also noticed that a couple of their clothes were missing, but the otters that had kept you company were starting to get restless and seemed to want to tell you to forget about it and go back.

"That have?" You asked yourselves, not understanding the sudden agitation.

A sudden movement of air above your heads made you suddenly spin.

“Damn I didn't get them!” About ten men had appeared on the other side of the baths. A shiver ran down your spine as you slowly approached the others, that symbol they carried with them, a skull with a knife dividing it in two, were the men who had attacked you in the previous days.

“It's okay, just come here.” She tried to say one of them with a dodgy face, yellow teeth and some missing, his face marred by scars.

You remained f trying not to make any rash moves, you couldn't escape because they were surrounding you and you were disarming.

"Damnation." You said as the girls pressed closer to you. How long were they watching you? Had they come to you before? Did they know about the camp? Had they already attacked him? How was Ace?

It seemed to be a nightmare that didn't want to end, those men possessed Algamalotite weapons, Ace possessed a devil fruit and risked being seriously injured, he even risked his life.

You couldn't allow something like that.

Another blow forced you to duck to avoid a scythe hitting you, only then did you notice a scalpel on the ground, how it ended up there didn't interest you that much, it was always something to defend yourself with.

You took it without hesitation, hiding it inside your hand.

It was the seven of you against more than a dozen armed men.

You had to play smart.

And while the men surrounded you starting to list the worst things to do to you you tried to find a way to escape, the main path was out of the question, if they were intelligent they had put some men to guard it.

The forest seemed like the only way out, but it was characterized by such dense vegetation that it would only hinder you.

But it was the only option available.

“At my signal, run as fast as you can, no one looks back, let's be clear.” You said as one of the enemies approached you. If they had captured you you would have become a dangerous medium of exchange. You knew Santa so well that he would have done anything to bring you home safely, not to mention Ace, oh god if only he had found out about the danger you were in.

You couldn't let your boyfriend risk his life with the injuries he had. No, you would never forgive yourself.

“Big sister…” The man was a few steps away from you and the girls.

You inhaled deeply and only when he was one step away from you did you use the scalpel to hit him in the jugular. Blood splattered everywhere but you didn't care.

Some of the girls screamed at what had happened. The men in front of you were stunned. It was just what you needed.

“Leave now!” You shouted grabbing one of your little sisters and starting to run, you had the element of shock on your side and you had to make the most of it. The camp wasn't too far away, once you reached it you could have notified everyone.

Two gunshots made your blood run cold. Warning shots, they wanted to capture you without doing too much damage.

They wanted to avoid the wrath of your captain and his commanders.

“No one was hit. Let's run boss."

“In the vegetation! Hurry and don't scream, not even if a shot passes by you!” You immersed yourself in the forest among brambles and branches that hurt you every time you passed, your wounds burned and your muscles ached, but you had to keep running, soon the gunshots would no longer be a warning.

You were just thankful that you and your classmates had been through so much that you weren't scared so easily. The oxen and the silence were your best allies at that moment, but the voices of your opponents were too close, they seemed to have grown louder to boot.

And the camp fire still seemed to be so far away.

“Hold on, we're almost there!” You said as you saw Whitebeard's flag along with Red's flag waving in the night. Driven by a new spirit you overcame the last obstacles by starting to shout to attract attention, to hell with not getting caught,

“ACEEEE” You screamed seeing your boyfriend's hair near the fire.

The dark-haired man turned around looking for you until he saw you and he became alarmed along with the others. Ace started running in your direction without wasting time, without waiting for the others.

“Take them!” The men chasing you had increased and the shots were not sent as a warning but were trying to hit you.

“Run, don't turn around.” You said as you jumped over a log and helped one of your classmates up after she fell to the ground.

“Come on, come on!” you said starting to run again hearing Ace call your name.

Ace was running towards you, everyone was coming.

Then a gunshot and your world became darker. You fell to your knees as you tried to pack the wound on your pelvis. The blow was so strong that it knocked the bullet out and your body stopped reacting the moment your knees hit the ground.

��Run you fools!” You said trying to send the girls away but no one moved petrified of what had happened.

You felt the blood flow out of the wound, hot and thick and spilling onto the ground.

Ace stood in front of you motionless as if he was trying to act but he couldn't, but in his eyes you could see a fire you had never seen before.

He caught you before you fell to the ground and held you close to her: "Don't worry love, I'm here." He said standing up and facing the enemy.

There were few who had seen Ace's true anger when someone dear to him was attacked or hurt, and there were still few who had survived to tell the tale.

You felt Ace hand you over to someone else, you couldn't keep your eyes open from all the blood you were losing, but you felt Ace place his hair on you and tell you to hold on.

Then he went all dark and muffled and a white light covered your vision.

Waking up wasn't the best, you heard the sound of the machines you had in the infirmary intermittently and you couldn't focus on what was around you.

Breathing hurt, and the oxygen mask you wore scratched your cheeks. Only then did you notice a mass of black hair leaning on the same mattress as you and an orange hair, which you knew well, resting on top of you.

Ace was sleeping, he knew how long you had been unconscious or if he had been struck by an attack of narcolepsy.

You stroked his hair, lulling him to sleep and observing his expressions, until he opened his eyes.

“Hi Ace.” You greeted with a smile.

“Well woken up Love” He replied, leaving a kiss on your forehead and caressing your face and staring at you for endless minutes.

"What happened?" You asked trying to get up but being stopped by Ace.

“You pay attention to the points.” The brunette said as she helped you up without you trying too hard.

“She woke up! You woke up sweetie!” Satch's voice said as she walked in with a tray full of lots of breakfast things. Immediately afterwards she entered half the world into the infirmary.

“Big sister you recovered!” The girls did nothing but cry loudly, while the men tried to comfort them and make them calm down, they were full of bandages and plasters, only superficial wounds fortunately. Each one told how difficult it had been to operate because of the blood you had lost and that they hadn't stopped until dawn. Red Shanks' doctor had also come to help you.

The girls continued to cry and you were moved by that reaction and you also tried to calm them down, but they started crying more.

“You should have seen Ace after they took you and then the girls didn't let us get closer even with threats!” She had said Izo sitting on a stool near the bed and Ace had turned red with embarrassment.

“Not only did he knock out all the enemies who were chasing you, but this wretch here went straight to their camp, burning everything and everyone, without waiting for us.” Marco continued, hitting your boyfriend on the head with a newspaper.

“Ace!” You said, turning to him, “Stupid, you don't have to face so many enemies alone.” You grabbed him by the cheeks.

“Come on Love, they hurt you, I had to punish them properly.” The dark-haired man said, freeing his cheeks and squeezing your hands.

"Unconscious." You said with tears in your eyes.

God you nearly lost him, because if he had been injured you wouldn't have been able to treat him in those conditions.

“Commander Ace don't make big sister cry!”

A small argument had developed between Ace and the girls, Izo had promptly pulled you out to prevent your health from worsening while the others tried to calm the two parties down.

It was your captain's voice that called your attention: "Let her rest, Ace, keep an eye on her." So everyone had slowly left the infirmary and the two of you alone, the girls had first relieved you of all the devices and drips to which you were attached and now you felt freer.

They made sure Ace didn't do any harm and were very direct in saying in no uncertain terms that I shouldn't force myself in any way and then they left.

“Come close to me Ace.” Ace didn't have to be told twice and got into the infirmary bed with you, you were a little tight but feeling him so close made you feel good.

“Aren't the girls going to hang me somewhere?” He had asked as he kissed your cheeks.

“Don't worry, I'll stop him.” You said touching his bandage and looking when she was covered in blood.

“Ace…” You whispered, trying to get a better look.

“It's not mine…it's yours…” Ace said rubbing your back with his warm hands to calm you down. You could only imagine the pain Ace had felt seeing you lose all that blood.

“I didn't know how to fix this.” He whispered looking at your bandage and slowly caressing the area: "I was very scared, they held it down like you told me to do, but you kept bleeding and I..." Ace's eyes were shiny, you knew him well that yes he would have stopped himself from crying, but he needed it right now.

You held him tightly to you, hiding his face in your breast and whispering in his ear: "Love, I'm here, safe and sound, Grace and you, if you want to cry, do it, I'm sorry for having made you worry so much." Ed Ace had held you close to him and salty tears had started streaming down his face.

He had told you what he had felt in that moment, so much fear. His flames had become uncontrollable due to those emotions and he was grateful to be alone at that moment.

“Actually there was Marco who turned me off just in time.” He added as you wiped the tears from his cheeks. You couldn't see him in that condition, Ace never cried - the only time he did was when he told you who he really was and about his past.

"Unconscious." You whispered, kissing him lightly: "You can't do these things if I'm not there to take care of you." You added, kissing him again.

“I don't like that the roles have been reversed.” Ace had said as he kissed you back.

“For once we can take a few days to ourselves.” You told him, kissing him again and biting his lower lip.

A pang had suddenly taken you from his side all the way down to his stomach. Ace had noticed this and immediately put himself in a different position, raising your torso slightly even though you said you were fine.

“You're clearly in pain! Please, just help me.” He said checking your bandage, luckily everything seemed to be fine.

“Ace don't worry.” You tried to reassure him, in a couple of days and some painkillers they would have you back on your feet.

“Don't you want to go back to work right away?!” Ace had placed you on top of him, you were now leaning against his chest and the tray full of Satch's food rested on your legs.

“How long has it been since you ate?” He asked then taking a grape and bringing it to your lips.

“How long has it been since you ate?” You responded with the same question by cutting a slice of meat and giving it to your boyfriend.

“For once I can take care of you.” He said to, Ace exasperated and leaving kisses on your neck. You laughed and then you continued breakfast, during which Ace told you what had happened at the camp, Redhair had already left the island and there had been no farewell fights or anything like that.

You chatted and exchanged small outpourings of love until the doctor came in and decreed that you could leave the infirmary but that you absolutely had to rest.

“Losing a girl like you! I really don't think about it, Ace don't make her get too tired please." The doctor said, giving another direct and blunt lecture.

“But why is everyone like this?!” Ace was carrying you in his arms, he had been adamant, he wouldn't make you so tired. You laughed and hugged him. Only you knew the delicacy that Ace put into every gesture that concerned you, even when you made love, no one would have ever said it but Ace - in addition to being fiery and passionate - was extremely sweet and kind. He cared a lot about making sure he didn't hurt you and making sure he respected your every need.

Yet you were happy to only know this sweet and delicate aspect of him.

“Ace let me change your bandages.” You said, getting up from the bed and grabbing the medical kit you had brought with you.

“I should be the one to change them for you. My wounds have already healed.” Your boyfriend had said stopping you from grabbing something and double checking your bandages, they were still clean and perfect.

A suspicious noise had made you freeze on the spot, voices calling for help and the nurses had reached your ears.

“Oh God, not again…” You said ready to leave to go see the situation.

"Do not even think about it." Ace said taking you back to bed and snickering.

“Ace but what if someone is hurt?” You protested once on the mattress, you tried to get up, but there was no way Ace would die.

“The girls are here, you absolutely need to rest.” Your boyfriend said, kissing you between your collarbones and slowly unbuttoning the shirt you were wearing at the time.

No other alarming voices had arrived from outside so the situation was under control.

“Will you take care of me?” You asked, settling yourself better on the pillows and waiting for your boyfriend to come closer.

“I will be your personal doctor.”

He kissed you, a kiss full of passion and tension accumulated in the previous days, a kiss that only tasted of so much love that you absolutely wanted to give him to heal those wounds that had remained in the soul and not in the flesh of both of you.

You kissed him back as his hands came down to cup your hips.

At that moment only the two of you existed and nothing else.

[ask-thebrothers-kaiba]

Dandelion - What herb are you?

You grew up too fast and all you know is the calluses on your fists and the thousand invisible scars that you pretend don't ache. Your anger burns so bright, so hot or maybe not at all, so deep you could never tell it was there. You are yours and you will defend that to the death after so many years of being ripped apart and denied your own agency and maybe you are still facing the bastards who stole your innocence but you will survive because that's the only thing you know how to do without breaking, the only thing you know besides protect, protect, protect, protect, yourself or sometimes those few others you claim as yours. You are a thousand sharp edges but impenetrable, a traumatized child so covered by thorny armor that you promised yourself you're grown now, you're stronger than anyone who has ever hurt you. You're safe. Nothing will ever hurt you again. You're so alone though sometimes, in a world that sees you as too much or too broken or too angry or too hurt, and you want to scream with the too-much of it, prove that you're okay, that you're self-reliant, that you are strong enough to stake your claim on your body, on your mind, on your heart, on your people, and protect it from any who dare take it away from you. You are the sea in tempest, a howling sky, a tsunami in motion, a force of nature, no matter how much you sometimes yearn to be still, to be safe, to be small. You are a dandelion, stubborn and determined to grow in the rockiest of soil, and bloom again in spring.

[It kind of shook me how accurate this is. It's a little vague in some parts to be general towards a wider audience, but I see it. This stands. I'm posting my own results under the cut.] Tagged but not really by @my-ohh-mai !

[ Mint

The world is a puzzle, so complex and multifaceted that you long to run your hands through the tapestry of its wonders and stay there forever, lost in the threads and colors and stories. You wish to stay there forever and you tell yourself it's to know the world but maybe it's not, maybe it's a fear that you're not enough, that you're so fragile and helpless in a world that moves too fast, to sharply, too many bright, painful colors that you stay locked inside your mind and thoughts, where you decide the tempo of your world, where you can grow and be as competent, as capable as you want, where the world is as wide as you can imagine it and never out of control unless you want it to be. Your shield is your knowledge, your mind, and you never feel ready enough for the world around you, never feel prepared enough, never safe, and you wonder if things could have been different, if you could have been better, happier, more like everyone else if you'd just known what you know now.

I also got a result about wanting to be loved because I couldn't choose between two different answers, and I do sometimes feel that, but I also staunchly believe that self-love should always come before external love. External love is not a replacement for the love we feel for ourselves and I feel even Seto Kaiba is a good example of that. He's got a big ego, but when he's on top of the world, winning, showing the world everything he's got, you bet your fourth rate deck he loves himself. Loving yourself should not be dependent on your performance, my dear Seto, but that's a conversation for another time. Even though I struggle with self-care, self-love, self confidence, I will always be of the mind that the love received from others is more of a great bonus than a way to heal from my own wounds and traumas. Even if my heart desperately wants it to be otherwise. (I've already been through trying. It doesn't work. Don't be like me.)

My result is giving Yugi, anyway. Make of that what you will.

I always wonder if Seto and I could be friends. I wonder if he'd like me. If our personalities would clash. This is an interesting thought experiment, though, no? ]

[aurathian]

By a Thread | AO3

For @zelinkcommunity Zelink Week 2023, prompt: by a thread. no totk spoilers here!

Fandom: Breath of the Wild

Rating: G

Summary: Link found many painful memories within Hyrule Castle, but perhaps this one hurt the most.

One of the more peculiar findings in Hyrule Castle was the amount of needles and the strange places Link discovered them. He visited Hyrule Castle many times–it called to him, even from the farthest reaches of the lands, dragged him back from snowy mountaintops and tropical shores. Something, or someone, pulled him there, but despite this pull the air was never urgent. Instead, malice particles floated slowly along the currents, directing him neither here nor there, simply allowing him to float with them.

And oftentimes, he floated to a desolate corner covered in rubble through which he dug only to find a sewing needle and bits of decayed thread.

Hyrule Castle was very quiet. Peaceful, almost, as though overpowering the evil energy that battled within. Like he was protected.

He made sure to pick up all the needles he found. He had discovered one in the dining room and another on a windowsill. One turned up in the barracks, on the deck overlooking where the soldiers mingled. A fourth one he discovered in Zelda’s study, up in the tower, and there he found some old miscellaneous embroideries and tapestries, some finished and others not. A fifth, he found outside along the winding path to one of the gatehouses.

His footsteps did not echo in the halls of the castle, no matter how high the ceilings or wide the walkways. The peaceful air stifled them, made it as though he wasn’t really there, like he was just a phantom wandering a memory. Even so, these memories were so clear; he was living them, and sometimes, he heard whispers from the others who had once been in them. Every now and then, when he turned a corner, he swore he heard the faintest murmur of his name.

On another castle expedition, the hero stumbled into the princess’s bedroom. Or, rather, what had been the princess’s bedroom, as tattered and ruined as it was now. Large piles of dust and debris covered the room, completely consuming whatever had once lain in those spots, and portions of the wall had been cracked open to the fresh air. The books on the shelves that lined the walls were either missing, collapsed on the floor, or decimated beyond recognition.

In the corner of the room, positioned by a window through which light and fresh air streamed, was a rocking chair that would creak with particularly strong gusts. The light from outside was like a beacon, lighting the way to the rotting wood covered by a small woven blanket.

Upon this rocking chair, Link found a needle.

Threaded through the needle was blue yarn, slightly lighter than the blue of his tunic, but it led to nowhere and was cut off in a matter of inches–but not by scissors. More likely by time. Its ends were frayed.

He looked around some more, but didn’t pry. Digging into what had been his princess’s belongings, no matter how decayed, ruined, or moldy, no matter how insignificant her sock drawer might be to the Hyrule of now, felt wrong. He would let her keep her dignity. He knew from his memories people spoke of her, and he would do his best still to protect her, from swords and tongues alike.

It’s not like there was much to dig through, anyway. Rubble and time had covered most of the room.

So he moved on. For once, he went beyond Zelda’s room and out through the blown-apart wall. When he was in Hyrule Castle, time simultaneously stopped and accelerated. Now it was nighttime, despite him entering in the morning, but the castle was so still, so quiet, he couldn’t tell. The moon washed its light over him, guiding him across the bridge he had walked onto.

Link knew from his memories that Zelda had been a researcher. From the frog she tried to make him (was it really him, or was that simply a vessel one hundred years removed?) eat, to the Ancient Columns at which she admonished him for following her, he was not surprised that these ventures also meant a lot of clutter in the study he had wandered into. The shelves were lined with miscellaneous rocks, flora, strange–and now fermented–liquids in glass vials, and the desks below were lined with books and scattered papers, all with illegible scribbling.

What did this room look like, one hundred years ago? He didn’t know. His memories–or perhaps were they Zelda’s, considering she was there every time? Their memories didn’t show him this room. They showed him a castle bridge upon which she was scolded by her father, they showed him a napping Zelda in Gerudo Desert, they showed her frustrated in a spring. And in every memory, she glowed.

Next to an open book upon the desk with some clear writing, albeit pages decayed, was a small embroidery hoop. The fabric he assumed to have once been a cream was now stained and slightly brown, the image on the hoop almost unidentifiable. After some squinting, holding the hoop in his hands and flipping it every which way, he realized.

The petals were hard to make out, but he finally recognized the familiar blue, followed it to the center where yellow dots emerged, and then down the green thread. A flower. But it was unfinished–parts of blue thread hung from one of the petals, the final piece needed to complete the puzzle. The needle on the chair.

Zelda could not finish this piece. No, she wasn’t allowed to, had it ripped away from her moments before its completion by the Calamity. The Silent Princess, gone with her.

He remembered something. He had seen this memory before. When she leapt in front of him as the Guardian aimed his laser, when her powers at last activated and saved his life but he fell anyway, wounded and exhausted and on the brink.

Princess Zelda had been so close. No, that time, she had fulfilled her wish, but still the mercy and victory she deserved was taken.

Link didn’t know if he felt angry. If he did, then at who? He certainly wasn’t angry at her. He could never be. The King, for pressuring her? No. He understood the nuances of the King’s situation. The Calamity, then? Yes. Well, everyone was, even those who weren’t there one hundred years ago.

He was angry with himself. The Hero of Hyrule had failed not only the kingdom but her, leaving her behind on that fateful day to face Ganon alone when he had sworn to protect her, sworn to protect Hyrule, defend her from swords and tongues alike.

He had been saved that day for a reason. To bring her back.

Now the air pulled him, beckoned him toward the sanctum from which he had seen a bright, piercing light, and he realized at last who had been calling to him the whole time.

[caught-in-the-filter]

Light Display

On the fourth day of Kinkmas, the prompt list gave to me: voyeurism/exhibitionism

Summary: Pirate Killian and Princess Emma take a risk on a castle balcony.

A/N: Shoutout and thank you to @motherkatereloyshipper for betaing all of the prompt fics for me, and to everyone who read sneak previews of these along the way. Shoutout and thank you also to @holdingoutforapiratehero. ❤️ I’ll be posting daily for the rest of the prompts.

Inspired by the prompt list shared by @ahufflepuffhobbit

Rated: E; Words: 659; AO3; my Kinkmas AO3 series

——

“Come on, darling,” Killian growled, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her back to his chest. Emma braced her hands on the ornate stone parapet to catch herself as he bent them both forward, gasping as he lowered his hand between her legs. “Your kingdom deserves to share your enjoyment, don't they, Princess?”

“Not this,” Emma answered nervously. “Not this, Killian. We shouldn’t—”

“Of course we should,” Killian soothed, planting his words with kisses on the side of her neck, doubling his efforts as she tilted her head toward him with a ticklish giggle and tried in vain to pull away from him. “No one can see us from this balcony, love,” he reassured her as her smile faded to an uncertain grimace. “We’re facing nothing but sea, and there are no ships in sight. And besides,” he murmured into her shoulder with a devilish smirk, “I seem to recall you quite liked it on the deck of my ship, more than once. Where’s that sense of adventure?”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” Killian flicked at Emma’s nipple with his hook as he pressed two fingers inside her, delighting in her moans as he steadily pumped them in and out of her core. “Whether or not they know who you are, the view is the same, darling, and the most beautiful one at that.”

Emma could feel how much the idea excited him brushing against her ass, and gods, he was right that it turned her on too. It was fun to take a risk now and then, especially with him, especially when it always felt so good. And honestly, maybe a part of her did want to be seen, the thrill of almost getting caught with a handsome pirate sending another rush of warmth to drip around his fingers as he worked her.

“Look how excited it makes you, Princess,” Killian teased, raising his hand to prove her arousal before using it to coat his length with eager strokes. “So fucking wet for me, all for me.” Canting her hips and teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock, he purred as he pressed inside her, “Let’s make them jealous, darling.”

“Fuck, Killian,” Emma whined as he began to thrust steadily. Her hands gripped the edge of the stone tighter, her knuckles turning white as she panted to his rhythm.

“That’s it, love. Let me hear you. Let them hear you.” Killian cupped her breast in his palm, drawing sticky circles around her nipple with his fingers and pinching the stiffened peak. “So fucking gorgeous.”

Emma choked on a breath as Killian rubbed her clit with the curve of his hook. Her legs quivered beneath her as he snapped his hips faster and brought her closer to her climax.

“Come for me, Princess,” Killian coaxed. “I can already feel you squeezing my cock. Show your kingdom how pretty you are when you come.”

“Fuck,” Emma moaned again as he peppered her shoulders and back with kisses, his thrusts unrelenting as her walls fluttered around him and her whole body shuddered. “Killian. Fuck.”

“That’s it, darling, yes,” Killian cooed as Emma chased her high and brought him to his own soon after. “Such a good fucking girl, Princess,” he gritted as he held her tightly in his arms and pinned her to the parapet, slamming into her with abandon before his hips stuttered and stilled, his cock pulsing inside her, letting his release leak down her thigh when he finally slipped out of her.

Emma spun to face him, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him into a kiss and backed him through the entryway, shoving him back onto her bed and straddling his legs.

“Come on, pirate,” she teased, gripping his cock firmly in her hands. “Turnabout is fair play. Let them hear you now.”

——

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[esonetwork]

Timestamp: Torchwood Series Four Summary

New Post has been published on https://esonetwork.com/timestamp-torchwood-series-four-summary/

Timestamp: Torchwood Series Four Summary

Torchwood: Miracle Day (Series Four) Summary

Torchwood‘s fourth series was a train wreck.

The concept was pretty interesting – a supernatural event that eliminates death, driven by shadow elements and political conspiracies, and an exploration of how it affects the world – but the execution cut the concept’s hamstrings.

One thread that ran throughout the discussions of these episodes was padding (or bloating). The series lacks a sense of forward motion, even in moments of action, which is something that the BBC knew how to do while balancing the drama that we’re used to in this property. Torchwood can be slow, but even those slow moments in previous series kept the audience ready for more. Miracle Day felt like it was chained to the deck.

Another thread that wove throughout the series centered on disturbing tropes. The first episode contains the Black Dude Dies First trope – which also extends in poorly-written media to pretty much any minority because of outdated assumptions that audiences wanted/needed white straight male protagonists to win the day – and only subverts it because of the Miracle. Then Rex experiences another terrible trope twice as the series progresses: Stuffed into the Fridge.

I pointed this out in The Blood Line, but it bears some further exploration in a series-wide analysis. Two major character deaths served to motivate Rex in the ten-episode arc. First was Vera Juarez in The Categories of Life, and while her death wasn’t motivated in universe as a strike against Rex – she was murdered by the manager of a death camp to keep things quiet – it did serve narratively as a motivator because Rex was present and filming as she was burned alive.

The second was far more obvious. Esther’s death in The Blood Line was purely intended to drive Rex’s actions, and it transformed her from a character that was timid and unsure at the start of the series to a bold woman who saved Jack’s magic blood and told Rex that she was (in no uncertain terms) accompanying him to the Blessing.

In The Blood Line‘s analysis, I stated that the wrong agent had died and suggested that Esther should have lived while Rex died. I said that with full understanding of the Black Dude Dies First trope, and my thought process regarding it is pretty clear: Miracle Day tried that trope and subverted it, and then the writers spent nine more episodes building Esther while keeping Rex exactly where he was at the start. I didn’t want Rex to die because he’s a minority, but rather because he wasn’t developed in the course of the story. If he had grown, that analysis would be different, but the writers chose to transform Esther into an object after investing so heavily into her as a character. They undid all of that good will with a single narrative choice.

And in a series of episodes like this, the writers and producers needed to preserve as much good will as possible.

Enough soap-boxing: It’s time to look at the numbers. We’ve been through this thrice now, so we’re familiar with the drill: We can’t make a direct comparison between Torchwood and Doctor Who, but we can look at the scores so far to get an idea of how it fits within the Timestamps Project’s scope.

Torchwood Series Four earned a 3.1 average. That’s way down in last place among Torchwood, and is equivalent to the classic Third, Nineteenth, and Twenty-First seasons. Out of thirty-three seasons of Doctor Who so far in the Timestamps Project, that’s a three-way tie for 28th place.

The New World – 5 Rendition – 4 Dead of Night – 4 Escape to L.A. – 2 The Categories of Life – 4 The Middle Men – 3 Immortal Sins – 3 End of the Road – 3 The Gathering – 2 The Blood Line – 2 Web of Lies – 2

Torchwood Series Four Average Rating: 3.1/5

Thus ends Torchwood. It’s the first of the spinoff series to end, so it’s the first opportunity to provide a whole series rating. Keep in mind that if Torchwood should return to screens, then this will change.

Series 1 – 3.8 Series 2 – 4.0 Children of Earth – 4.8 Miracle Day – 3.1

Torchwood Weighted Average Rating: 3.79/4.00

Would I recommend Torchwood as something to watch in the Doctor Who mythos? Absolutely, but the obvious caveat is that Miracle Day does not hold up to the series. As we’ve seen, it’s also darker, gritter, and far more adult than anything else in the overall franchise, so if the light and hopeful of the main series is more your style, this might be best avoided.

The Timestamps Project is proceeding in mostly chronological order. As such, the next block of episodes will cover what remains of Doctor Who‘s sixth series. After that, the final series of The Sarah Jane Adventures is on the docket before a straight shot through the seventh, eighth, and ninth series of Doctor Who takes us well into next year.

UP NEXT – Doctor Who: The Girl Who Waited

The Timestamps Project is an adventure through the televised universe of Doctor Who, story by story, from the beginning of the franchise. For more reviews like this one, please visit the project’s page at Creative Criticality.

[sushiandstarlight]

“Ornaments”: NaNoWrimo 30 Days of Prompts

Today’s Prompt

Read this story on AO3

Rated: G

Summary:  Crowley wondered, honestly, if the ornaments were rigged to explode once they were all gathered together.

The first package showed up on Crowley's doorstep, no knock or request for a signature, less than a week from Christmas. He had nearly tripped over it on his way out to tempt Aziraphale for breakfast. It was a plain brown package, carefully tied with twine. No return address. Actually, he noted, no marking on it at all. He couldn't be sure it was even for him except that it was very deliberately placed where he would find it... With his wayward feet. He took it back inside and opened it. Inside, tucked securely into a nest of white tissue paper, was a single ornament: white enamel and gilded metal forming a human holding a drum with the number 12 floating over his head. Digging all the paper of the box did nothing to resolve the mystery. Shrugging he put the delicate bauble back in the box and left for breakfast.

One ornament showing up at his door unannounced he could explain, but when he left the next day to cause some mischief somewhere (he would decide along the way where that mischief would take place, being a free agent now) he was stopped short by a box exactly the same as the first. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the first package was, in fact, still on his table. Then he reached down and plucked up the new one, taking it inside. Still, no addresses and no names. No labels to indicate the craftsperson or store that had made them. This one was blue and white, decked out with a cheerful flutist and holly leaves. Above the flutist was the number 11. Apparently, whoever this was, they were counting down. He slipped it gently back into the box and then went about his day, but he thought about it quite a lot.

The third day he poked his head out into the hall early, still in his pajamas and bare feet. He thought perhaps he would catch the deliverer in the act, but no. There was a third package, placed exactly where the other two had been. He plucked it up and brought it inside. This one was red and there was a man on it... To Crowley he looked sprawled out like he'd just had a bad fall. Surely that wasn't it, though. Above the sprawled man was the gilded number 10. The ball, this time, was a shiny red.

He never mentioned the mysterious ornaments to Aziraphale, though he wasn't quite sure why. Maybe it was that he was concerned for his own safety and, by extension, the angel's. He had no idea what these ornaments meant or what they might be counting down to. It could be a cruel joke from his previous bosses with the last one exploding in his face or something. They hadn't been bothered in months, but one never could be too careful. No, he wouldn't worry Aziraphale until he understood what was going on. Until then, all would be normal.

On it did go, though, perplexingly. The fourth day saw a red ball with a dancing lady on it, the number nine gleaming over her curls. The fifth one was green with a cow on it. The sixth, blue with a swan. The boxes were adding up on his desk. In lieu of stacking them and possibly breaking the delicate little things he got a larger box to keep them all in.

The seventh day was a red ball with a nesting goose, laying on her golden eggs. He found himself getting jumpy thinking there was someone outside his home, everyday, so close to him and yet unknown. He wondered if he should throw them away, but something inside him hoarded them like the mystery was a treasure itself.

Day eight was a deep, forest green covered in golden rings that overlapped and were tied together with a red ribbon. His skin was starting to itch with anxiety with only four more days to go until the finale of this... whatever it was. He was sure Aziraphale noticed him being so quiet. It was just that he couldn't stop thinking about what would be in the little brown box tomorrow. And what would happen when the countdown reached it's end?

The night before day nine he purchased a tiny security camera and installed it outside his down, linking it his phone. He tried to stay up and keep watch on the feed, but they'd had a very pleasant evening out, him and the angel, with plenty of libation. He was out not twenty minutes after he sat down. In the morning the feed was clean, but for a tiny disruption at first light. And there, after said disruption, sat a package at his door. More birds, this time, and music notes. Either someone was clever with technology or they were occult.

Day ten found chickens in a sea of green. Day eleven, doves on blue. Crowley didn't sleep the night before day twelve. When the sun rose, he was keyed up to the point of shaking. He went to the door, threw it open. Another package, another bird. He held it delicately in his hands, more than half afraid it would explode. When it didn't he placed it in the larger box with the rest.

Okay, countdown successful, but countdown to what?

His phone ringing shattered his tattered nervous so badly he was left clinging to the ceiling, eyes wide and yellow to the rims.

Only one person ever called him on his landline.

Slithering down from the ceiling, he answered.

“'ello, Angel.”

“Crowley! You will be by today, won't you? I thought... Well, I thought we would spend Christmas eve together.”

“Sure, sure. I'll be by in a bit.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale's voice was wrapped up in a smile like a bow, “Oh, good. Do bring the ornaments I sent you, would you?”

“The...” Crowley looked over at the box on his desk, all twelve baubles gleaming in the morning sun, his brain coming to a complete and utter halt, “ornaments?”

“You did get them? I mean, you never mentioned it. I hope they went to the right address!” He could hear the sound of rustling papers and then, “Yes, it's here correctly on the receipt.”

“You sent me ornaments?” He felt like he was dragging his brain through sludge to get it to the point, but after all the anxiety this made no sense. He saw Aziraphale every day, or damn near. Why hadn't he just given him them in person?

“Yes, there should have been twelve.”

“I got them.”

“Oh good, so you'll bring them with you?”

“Yeah, uh, yeah sure I will. No problem.”

“Alright, see you in a bit, then.”

“Yup.”

And the receiver went dead. Aziraphale had sent him Christmas ornaments. And they counted down until today. But, he must know... Crowley never put up a tree?

He stared at the box for another minute more, puzzling, but then shrugged and headed for his shower.

-

He snapped open the door and shouldered his way into the bookshop, box of ornaments taking up most of his dexterity.

“Angel!” he called out, but saw no sign of him. He walked into the center of the book shop and found... A twinkle light lit evergreen tree that had to be at least 8 feet tall. It had decidedly not been there yesterday. All around it were boxes of trinkets and garland and even hand-threaded popcorn-and-cranberry strands.

“Ah, hullo, Crowley!” Aziraphale was descending the stairs, a box in his hands. Crowley sat his down by the others and rushed over to help, “oh, thank you, dear.” Aziraphale clapped his hands together to remove the dust.

“Where did all of this come from?” Crowley took the last box over- glittery balls in gold and silver, all different sizes- and put it with the rest. The tree was well and truly boxed in at this point.

“Oh, I bought most of them. Lots of thrifting. Love the human idea of thrifting, don't you? One person's discard is another person's treasure!” Aziraphale was fluttering around the boxes, but didn't seem to be actually doing anything with them, “I made some of it. I think I ate more popcorn than made it on the strands, I must confess.”

Crowley stood in the midst of the Christmas festivities and felt utterly lost.

“Ah, here are the ones I sent you! Oh, but they're even more lovely in person!”

Crowley watched him, as if he was going mad.

“Do you like them?” Aziraphale looked up at him and frowned, “You don't?”

“I mean, they're nice,” Crowley rubbed the back of his neck and joined him at the side of the box, looking down at all twelve ornaments, “it might've been nice to, ah, leave a note with them.”

“Now that can't be right...” and the angel was off, back to his cluttered office desk (not to be confused with his book restoration desk which was pristine and clutter free). He pulled out a receipt and produced his tiny spectacles from out of nowhere, “says right here that there was to be a note with every package. I gave them twelve notes with the twelve different lyrics.”

“Lyrics?”

“Yes, Crowley. From the song.”

“But it wasn't a song...” Crowley could feel his voice dipping into a whine due to his strained misunderstanding of this entire escapade, “it was ornaments.”

“The Twelve Days of Christmas. Surely, you've heard it.”

“Maybe? I tend to kind of sleep through Christmas, if I can manage it.”

“Then you don't...” Aziraphale dropped the receipt back on his desk, “you can't have...” He sat down at his desk with a thump, “oh dear.”

“I do like them, Angel, of course I do. They're from you, right? Little strange sending them to me and then having me bring them to put them on your tree, but you know I'm down for whatever you want to do,” He had been moving while he spoke, picking his way around the boxes over to where Aziraphale sat, staring off into space, “Alright, Angel?”

“But they had meaning, my dear. And that's been totally lost. Here I thought... I thought I was saying it and I wasn't.”

“You could tell me now.”

Aziraphale smiled up at him, but it was with an edge.

“You can, I want to know what they mean. It's been driving me around the bend for twelve days!” he pulled an ottoman up across from Aziraphale's chair and sat, waiting.

“I just- it was easier to let gestures speak to me.”

“You don't need to be nervous, it's only me.”

“There's nothing 'only' about you, Crowley.”

Crowley cocked his head to the side, deciding not to respond to that, and kept waiting.

“Have you heard 'The Twelve Days of Christmas?'”

“Er, probably, but I... oh,” Crowley paused and let that sink in, “so there was one ornament for each day. I get that.”

“Yes, but the song. Well, it's supposed to start on Christmas day, really. But, for my purposes it worked better to count down to Christmas eve.”

“Your purposes.”

“The song is about a lover sending gifts.” Aziraphale said it quickly and to his hands, rather than Crowley's face.

Crowley continued to stare at him as the Angel started to sing, low and soft: “On the first day of Christmas my true love sent to me A partridge in a pear tree.

On the second day of Christmas my true love sent to me Two turtle doves, And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the third day of Christmas my true love sent to me Three French hens, Two turtle doves, And a partridge in a pear tree.”

Firstly, Crowley shivered as Aziraphale's voice drifted over him. How had he never heard him sing before? Even such simple verses sounded, well, heavenly. Secondly, true what now?

“True what now?”

“True,” Aziraphale coughed, “Well, true love.”

“For me?”

“If you'd like,” Aziraphale was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “I had one more ornament for when we were done decorating the tree.”

“Can I see it now?” Crowley felt his heart should be racing, anxiety cluttering his brain, but he felt a sudden wave of calm. Aziraphale thought of him as a true love? All these years... All these centuries. It hadn't just been him alone with his feelings? “Or would you rather we decorated first? That was the plan.”

“I can show you now,” he got up and went over to his register, producing a small white box with a red ribbon. He sat down across from Crowley again and handed it to him.

Crowley gently pulled the ribbon off and opened the box. Inside was a porcelain ball, light blue and crackled in gold. When he lifted it, he saw the image on the front: a black and red serpent tucked under the wing of a dove. He stared at it for, well, he wasn't sure how long. Finally Aziraphale cleared his voice across from him.

“Do you like it?”

“It's beautiful.”

“I had it commissioned. Hand crafted and painted.”

“For me.”

“For you.”

“Your true love.”

“Yes.”

“You did all of this,” Crowley gestured to the boxes strewn about and the trees and the ornament he now sat at his feet, “to tell me you loved me?”

“Well, it all seems a bit daft now.”

“Maybe a little.”

Aziraphale looked wounded.

“But I love my daft Angel,” Crowley reached over and took one of his hands, squeezing it until he looked up, “Maybe next time you can be a tiny bit more direct. I can't guarantee I would've understood it, either way. We're a right pair of ineffable idiots.”

“Do you want some rum and cider? I want some rum and cider.”

“Heavy on the rum, light on the cider.”

“Deal,” Aziraphale bustled off upstairs to his kitchen, leaving Crowley to sit and stare at the tree. He wound his way back to it, carrying the new ornament, cradling it to his chest. A commemorative piece of art of their first meeting. When Aziraphale had protected him from the storm.

“You can put it on first, if you like. Give it prime of place.” Aziraphale had appeared, quietly at his left elbow.

“Yeah, right in the middle?”

“I like that.”

Crowley hung it and then took his mug from Aziraphale, taking a deep sip. Aziraphale edged closer to him.

“May I?” he gestured with his arm.

“'course, Angel.” He felt Aziraphale's arm wrap around his middle and they stared at the tree for a while. He didn't know if it was the proximity or the alcohol, but he was feeling warm and syrupy, kinda like his bones were melting, in a pleasant way.

They spent the next few hours decking out the tree and downing mug after mug of what was slanted increasingly away from cider and toward rum. By the time the last bit of garland went on, they were covered in tinsel and laughing over nothing. Slumping onto the sofa next to the tree, Crowley curled into Aziraphale's side.

“Going to dream of sugar plums?”

“Nah.”

“What do you want Santa to bring you in the morning?”

“Santa only comes for good boys. M'not a good boy.”

“Hmm, maybe not.”

“I've got what I want right here, don't need Santa for anything,” he drifted off, already dreaming about being curled up safe and dry under white feathers.

Previous Prompt Ficlets:

Cocoa or Cider / Feather Duster / Scarf / Family / Hearth / Frosty / Ribbons  / Wrapping / Cardinal / Coal / Unwrap / Blustery

[jowritesthingss]

fly away with me

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing(s): Roceit (Creativity | Roman + Deceit | Janus), platonic but could be read as romantic if you want

Rating: General Audiences

Content Warning(s): blood mention (teeny, non-graphic, in passing), can’t think of any others, but let me know if you think I should tag something!

Length: 1,773 words

Brief Summary: Life isn’t a fairytale. Roman knows this, even as he wishes it were. (But perhaps...perhaps life doesn’t have to be like the stories to be magical.)

TS Masterlist + AO3 Links

*

“Hey.”

A voice pierces through a groggy Roman’s mind, slicing through what had been a rather nice dream about...he thinks it was sword-fighting. And flying. Yes. Sword-fighting and flying about on the deck of a ship, sword-fighting a hook-handed pirate with a mustache and a cackle that looked and sounded suspiciously similar to that of his brother’s.

Yes, whatever it had been, it was a nice dream. Roman would quite like to get back to it now, thanks.

Letting out a quiet, annoyed little “mmrmph,” Roman rolls over and blindly grabs for one of his spare pillows, snuggling tightly into it.

The voice sighs heavily, growing irritated as it speaks next. “Come on, you great big oaf.” Hands slither across his body and attempt to roll him back over. “Wake up already.”

“Nooo,” Roman protests sleepily, clutching his pillow more tightly to his chest and curling his legs up and in on himself.

The hands briefly disappear from Roman’s torso, and he thinks that maybe whoever it is has finally given up. Good, that means he can go back to sleep. Already he can see the pirate ship and his sword and a strangely masculine Wendy reappearing; already he can hear the cries of the gulls and the tinkling of Tinkerbell; already he can smell and taste sea salt and blood and the pirates’ bitter defeat—

—and then the hands reappears, roughly yanking Roman’s pillow out of his grasp.

“Nooo!” Roman whines, more petulant this time, and he reluctantly rolls over to see who or what is so important that they had to interrupt his beauty sleep.

Roman slowly blinks tacky eyes at the blurry, somewhat familiar figure standing beside his bed. “Who...izzat?” he slurs. “Who’re you? Why—”

“Roman, you idiot,” the person sighs, sounding annoyed and affectionate all in one—and he knows that voice, Roman does, only one person he knows can manage to properly pull off that tone—but who? The answer dances on the tip of his tongue, just barely escaping him in his drowsy state.

With the help of the mysteriously magnificent stranger, Roman slowly sits up in bed, his sheets clutched tightly in his fists and strewn about him. He relinquishes his grip on them to reach up and rub at bleary brown eyes.

Once he has successfully rubbed most of the sleep out of his eyes, Roman turns and takes a closer look at the stranger who had so rudely awakened him.

And—oh.

There, at the side of his bed, clothed in a ridiculously formal black and yellow outfit, as per usual, stands Janus, arms folded across his chest, toes tapping impatiently at the wooden floorboards of Roman’s bedroom.

Somehow, knowing who the person is makes both more and less sense in Roman’s head all at once.

“Jan—Janus?” he mumbles, tilting his head curiously at his best friend. “What—what’re you doing here? Why’d you—”

“Yes, because now is definitely the time to play twenty questions,” Janus groans. His arms uncross—Roman has to tear his eyes away from those beautiful, beautiful arms—and he grasps at Roman’s forearm with one hand. “Come on, Roman, we have to go.”

“Wh—” Roman’s bewildered stare meanders its way up Janus’ very pretty chest and up to his very pretty face once more. “Why?”

“No time to explain,” Janus hisses, pulling him out of bed. “Just—come on already, dammit. Get up and get dressed.”

Roman blinks dumbly, and in his half-asleep, half-awake state, he wordlessly lets Janus stand him up and dress him without a fight.

Janus unbuttons Roman’s pajama shirt and exchanges it for a more appropriate long-sleeved shirt and his beloved ITS hoodie. He wriggles off Roman’s pants, switching them out for jeans as Roman’s head lolls against the soft cotton of his hoodie.

Throughout the process Janus sees Roman’s bare chest and sees his bright cartoony Mickey Mouse boxers, and if Roman were more awake, he would most probably shriek and jump halfway across the room, his already-dark cheeks darkening even more with embarrassment. But Roman is still blissfully half-asleep, and Janus’ deft fingers feel so nice as they gently thread a comb through the kinks in Roman’s curls—so nice that he just might fall back to sleep again.

Janus has him sitting back down at the corner of his bed, jamming socks and shoes onto his feet, when Roman finally snaps out of his trance and into full wakefulness.

“Wait—now hold on a minute, pretty little liar!” Roman whisper-shouts, careful not to get too loud even as he chews Janus out. If his parents were to find the two of them now, it would be very awkward indeed. “What exactly is going on here? And—” he elbows Janus out of his bubble of personal space, “—I can tie my own shoes perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

“You sure you can manage it on your own?” Janus scoffs playfully, raising an eyebrow. “Who’s the one that just had to put your jeans on for you as if you were some big overgrown baby?”

Roman’s cheeks heat up. “I changed your diapers when we were younger,” he reminds, “so we’re even.” He’s already bent down to lace his own shoes up before he realizes that Janus has gotten Roman to do exactly what he wanted. He pops his head up to glare at his younger friend, but he relents and ties his shoes nevertheless.

“Touché.” Janus tosses his hands up in mock-defeat. “I surrender.”

Shoes tied—much better than Janus would be able to do, might he add—Roman sits straight up once more, although he refuses to stand up—one last, pathetic attempt at rebelling, even though he knows that Janus’ bright eyes and rare but manic smile will win him over as they always seem to. “Seriously, what exactly is going on here, lord of the lies?”

Janus pinches his fingers together and brings them up to his lips, miming zipping his lips. He shrugs and flicks his finger as if to to ‘throw away the key’.

“Typical.” Roman’s eyes fall on the open window behind Janus, and his mouth drops open in a little ‘o’. “Oh, by the pharaoh's crook and flail—did you—did you climb through the window?” Horror twists through his voice. “Janus, our apartment is on the fourth floor!”

The grin on Janus’ face is something to be worried about—something to be very, very worried about. “Yeah, I totally climbed all the way up to your window. Mm-hmm.”

After a moment of letting Roman stew in his worry, though, Janus snickers and shakes his head. “Nah. Remus is still up. He let me in on the condition that I get him video of you drooling and snoring in your sleep.”

“Wh—I do not drool in my sleep! Or snore!” Roman huffs. “Preposterous.”

Janus’ lips twist into a thin, sly smirk as he holds up his phone. “Oh, but I’ve got evidence suggesting otherwise,” he croons, tantalizingly holding the phone just out of Roman’s grasp.

Roman nearly falls for the ploy. Nearly.

“You’re just trying to get me up to follow you to...wherever you’re trying to take me,” Roman accuses, stabbing a finger towards his friend.

“Think what you will.” Janus shrugs, nonchalantly bringing a hand up to examine his nails. “It was worth a shot.” He slips his phone back into his back pocket.

“Well, I’m not falling for any more of your tricks,” Roman swears.

Janus raises a singular thin eyebrow. “You sure about that?” His left hand reaches into the pocket of his pants, and he fluidly pulls out a set of shiny new car keys, rattling them gently in Roman’s face. “So then...you don’t want to see what my parents got me for my birthday?”

Roman’s eyes grow wide, and, well, maybe he’ll fall for just one more of those tricks—wait, no! He must remain strong!

“No!” he forces himself to insist. “I—I can’t.”

“Well, why not?”

“...I’m not Remus,” Roman admits quietly, looking down at his sneakers. “I’m not as spontaneous as him, I’m not a daredevil like him. And I mean, what if my parents wake up and find out?”

Janus tiptoes over to Roman, placing nimble fingers on Roman’s chin and lifting his head up to look Roman in the eye. “I don’t want you to be Remus,” he says simply. “I want you to be you, and I want you to trust me when I say you’re going to love where we’re going.”

Janus’ eyes twinkle as his fingers pull away from Roman’s gobsmacked face. “And if your parents catch you...well, doesn’t that make things just a bit more fun?” he purrs. “Just a bit more exciting? Just a bit more...dangerous?”

Roman tries to fish around his mind for a coherent response. Tries. Fails. Instead, a noise not unlike a squished dog toy leaks out of his mouth, and he gapes at Janus where he is by the window, silhouetted by moonlight from above and streetlamps from below.

“So.” Janus’ voice is warm as he speaks next. Warm. Inviting. Home.

“Do you trust me?”

Roman stares at Janus, standing there at the window, heterochromatic eyes sparkling with the stars of faraway galaxies. He is bathed in the moonlight, the lighter patch of skin on the side of his face a shimmering silver, and the sight is ethereal, breathtaking.

Roman stares at Janus, with his hand stretched out invitingly towards where Roman himself sits on the side of his bed.

Sure, life may not be the fairy tales that Roman reads more religiously than he does actual religious texts. Perhaps there isn’t a distressed damsel to rescue, or a prince to sweep him off his feet, or a sword to pull from an anvil, or a frog prince to kiss, or a fairy to sprinkle the power of flight over him. So what?

What does it matter if his life isn’t like the fairy tales he reads, when he can simply create and live out his own?

Janus is getting a tad impatient now. Roman can see it in the patchy hand that props itself against his waist, in the exasperated yet fond smile lingering on his face. “Do you trust me?” he repeats, rolling his eyes—no doubt at the sappy look that is spreading across Roman’s own face.

Roman smiles. Reaches for Janus’ hand. Takes it in his own.

“Yes.”

Sepia skin holds firm onto multicolored, and matching grins echo across both faces. Janus darts over to the door, pulling Roman towards him.

They fly.

Fin

*

This was supposed to be under 1k words and it is Not. That is all I shall say on that. Also, title’s from Leaving London by Steffan Argus.

Want to be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

[infracti-angelus]

Pale Fire, Chpt 2

PALE FIRE, a Lord of the Rings fanfiction

Pairing:  Éomer and Lothíriel

Summary: Lothíriel wasn’t unacquainted with infatuation; after all, she was nearly twenty-one years old and (by Gondorian standards, at least) well past her prime. But while she was acquainted with infatuation and the whispers of attraction, this was entirely different. And it infuriated her. And when his line of sight but glanced over her, she felt heated from top of her hair to the base of her foot. No, not heated. Burning. Set aflame.  She felt as if she were the swine roasted on the spit for tonight’s dinner.

Rating: M

Click here for chapter 1

Chapter 2: The Report

The journey took seemingly forever to Lothíriel and likely the rest of the ship’s crew. Maren insisted on traveling with them, which put her in a perpetually foul mood. She suffered from aearlhîw whilst they sailed along the coast of Belfalas until they cleared the Mouth of Anduin. Betwixt bouts hanging o’er the side of the ship, she berated the cook, bossed around the boatswains, and interrogated the sailing master. Perhaps the only ones unscathed were the captain, first mate, and Dol Amroth’s harpists who travelled with them to perform at the coronation (they were safe because they rarely left the cabin they shared, insisting on practicing). Because Maren was incapacitated for the first leg of the journey, it fell to Lothíriel to dissemble the droves of rejected garments she owned and glean whatever usable trimmings she could, placing them in empty baskets for Maren to examine when she was able. Truthfully, Lothíriel wasn’t much more pleasant to be around than Maren. She found herself rather snippy with everyone, undoubtedly due to being confined to a corset from every sunrise to dusk. The first time Maren had laced Lothíriel in, she had needed to brace her knee at the base of Lothíriel’s spine to get the appropriate leverage. Maren had to tighten it twice that day before Lothíriel could button up one of her mother’s gowns. Lothíriel had decided then that she abhorred corsets and understood why they had gone out of style. They were impractical for breathing. Maren, however, was satisfied, because by the fourth day Lothíriel was able to keep it on without reprieve as long as she remained immobile. By the fifth day, Lothíriel was able to complete simple tasks, such as utilizing the chamber pot unassisted or take a turn about the cabin.

By the end of the first week, Lothíriel believed she finally acclimated to wearing a corset, though she wasn’t quite sure how she’d ever accomplish dancing in one. Perhaps she could avoid dancing altogether? Somehow she doubted it. In the meantime, Lothíriel busied herself with embellishing her mother’s dresses. They had passed through the Mouth of Anduin and were no longer on the sea but rowing up the river. Maren’s countenance improved greatly and she was able to assist Lothíriel. On one gown deemed too plain, Maren embroidered elaborate swirling designs in silver thread reminiscent of the sea surf around the cuffs, collar, and hem. On a dove grey dress, Lothíriel stitched mother of pearl on the skirt. Once Lothíriel was exhausted from her constricted lungs and pricking her fingers, she would retreat to the deck and gaze at the lands.

The entourage was small, with only two ships sailing along the river. Lothíriel and Maren occupied the larger of the two which housed the greater number of Swan-Knights. The larger ship was part of the Royal Armada. Its large white sails were massive when unfurled and the figure head at the bow shaped like a swan’s head. The outside of the ship had detailed carvings in the white wood, made to mimic the feathers of a swan’s wings. The other ship of the party was from Dol Amroth’s fleet. Its smaller size allowed it to sail faster and be maneuvered in tighter places more easily. The remainder of the ships stayed in Dol Amroth to protect the coast there from Corsairs of Umbar. Lothíriel was unworried, for as per her father’s letter, ships bearing Swan-Knights would be stationed periodically along the river to join them and ensure their safety. The first of her father’s ships, Aerthûl, was the first to join them as they approached Pelargir. The setting sun cast hues of rose gold on the stark white sails. But it wasn’t until they passed through South Ithilien and reached Emyn Arnen that Lothíriel became excited. A giggle rippled through her as the Lancrista, came into view. Oh, how she had teased Amrothos for the naming of his first ship! As they rowed closer, she could see him walking excitedly on deck, waving to her and barking orders. They came to dock at shore and in no time Amrothos had departed his ship and boarded her own.

“Lothy!” He yelled, scrambling up the ladder thrown off the side. His grin was infectious and wide as she threw herself into his open arms, squeezing him fiercely. “Great Ulu, what a welcome sight you are! I’ve missed you! How do you fair? Are you eating enough? You look too skinny!  Is that Naneth’s dress? How ever did you fit into that? Have you been eating enough? We expected you two days ago! What took you so long?”

Lothíriel couldn’t help the good natured teasing and chided him as she released him. “Amrothos, I’ve told you once and I’ll tell you again: I can’t answer every question when you throw them at me all at once!”

Amrothos had the decency to look properly chastised but continued grinning. “Tell me you’re your journey was uninterrupted by any hazards. We expected you two days ago.”

“That is due to Maren,” Lothíriel explained. “She demanded a day on the shore to dye cloth. Do not be cross with the Captain for postponing our progress. She was a tempest personified!”

He looked quizzical. “Maren came along? And why would you need to dye cloth? Haven’t you plenty to wear?”

Lothíriel’s eyes dropped. “There is much changed since you were last home.”

Amrothos frowned. “Tell me all.”

“Well…trade has all but ceased due to heightened traffic by the Corsairs. Goods we once considered essential are now regarded as frivolous.  Cloth is limited to what we have and our grain stores have been depleted.” Lothíriel’s further account was interrupted by Maren’s footsteps approaching them. Amrothos immediately stood up straighter as she approached.

“After all I’ve done for you and yours, you did not yet greet me, boy.” Maren croaked, wagging a finger at Amrothos.

Amrothos grinned. “I didn’t know an old cantankerous governess would be here.”

Maren’s eyes narrowed and she reached up and firmly swatted the back of his head. “I’m not old.”

If it was possible, Amrothos’ grin widened. “You told me you vowed to never step on a boat again after transporting Naneth to Ada.”

“Aye, and you once swore that you would wed me when you were old enough.”

Amrothos guffawed, motioning them to follow him below deck to continue the conversation in private. They settled themselves in Lothíriel’s cabin and Amrothos urged Lothíriel to finish her report on Dol Amroth.

“I’ve had to access the emergency victuals,” Lothíriel, grimacing as Maren dropped lace into her hands that needed mending. “Rícah has been doing her best to make due. She’s been baking cram with what remains. I hand out rations of it to the town every few days.” Maren made a disapproving noise, but didn’t press the matter and Lothíriel began the painstaking task of tatting. “Dol Amroth is living on what we can produce ourselves. The townspeople survive off mollusks, but are too frightened to venture outside of the shallows.” Lothíriel sighed. “Some of them have gone too far from the shore and didn’t return. I now instruct some of our Swan-Knights to fish every day, though I’m sure they’re not pleased with me for the directive. We’re fortunate we have a ready supply of meat and salt from the ocean. I’ve gotten very skilled with herbs in the kitchen. You wouldn’t believe the difference it makes when you’ve eaten fish every day for every meal.”

“And are you eating every meal?” Amrothos inquired. “Because I’m certain that was Naneth’s dress, and she was built like an eel.”

“Doesn’t she look splendid?” Maren interjected.

“Yes, I’ve been eating,” Lothíriel glared at Maren. “But as I stated, all of my dresses are sensible. I’ve been wearing them while weeding the gardens or cooking in the kitchen. I don’t own anything extravagant fit for court--”

“Absolutely nothing fit for a princess!” Maren bemoaned.

“—and Maren found some of Naneth’s dresses that we could alter for me. Included in the chest was a corset, which is—”

“This is highly inappropriate discourse, young lady!”

“—laced so tightly I can barely breathe in attempt to stuff me inside this gown,” Lothíriel finished.

Amrothos chuckled at Maren’s distress, prompting her to swat at him again.

“And what of you, brother? Are father and the rest well?”

               Amrothos assured Lothíriel that he, her brothers, and Ada were well. His countenance visibly fell when he delivered the news that their Uncle Denethor and cousin Boromir had passed. “Faramir is on the mend. He took a critical blow while defending Minas Tirith. Ada was able to rescue him. Of course, this was before I got there, or else I would have done it myself. He seems shaken, and I dare say he is still critically wounded by Boromir’s death.”

               Lothíriel sighed, wiping tears that were gathering at the corner of her eyes. “What ill news. I had hoped to show Boromir that I can bake bread now. It is leagues better than the last time I had baked for him, though it is not to the quality of Rícah’s. Faramir must be desolate.”

               “When I departed, he had been quite preoccupied.”

Amrothos explained what had happened at the Battle of Minas Tirith. He told them of how the White Lady of Rohan had surreptitiously joined her kinsmen and had slain the Witch King of Angmar, but not before receiving a devastating blow. He described how she had been healed by their new King, who was a mighty warrior, noble and just, blessed with a healing hand, and had “nigh taken her from the very grips of blackness and horror.” (The King Elessar also had a quiet sense of humor and was “tall as the sea-kings of old”).

“While recovering, the White Lady met our own dear Faramir,” and the amount of brow wiggling and winking caused Maren to swat him again.

“In all seriousness, I am indeed pleased for Faramir. He deserves every happiness,” Lothíriel pressed, “and he has not had any for a time.”

“Aye, not since your Aunt Finduilas died,” Maren supplied.

“I am pleased as well,” Amrothos insisted. “And Faramir could not pick any more fortuitous than the White Lady. She is sister-kin to the King of Rohan.”

“Îdh has smiled upon him,” Maren said, warmly.

“I thought the King of Rohan was older,” Lothíriel mused.

“Théoden King was their uncle. The White Lady slew the Witch-King to save him, though she was too late.”

“Oh.”

Amrothos entertained Lothíriel the remainder of the time with stories.  Erchirion had apparently thrown a fit when Amrothos was chosen to meet her instead, but he had been tasked with mollifying many of the nobleman who were left reeling after the passing of their uncle, the Steward of Gondor, and the coming of King Elessar. The new King of Rohan was already displeased with Elphir, who had recommended a prompt betrothal and marriage to secure the royal line. Elphir had been unexpectedly backed by numerous advisors of Rohan, which had incensed the king. The king had, evidently, roared at Elphir to focus on getting his own wife before hassling him. Elphir had smugly introduced the king to Rosilith who, since Elphir had parted from Dol Amroth a few years ago, had been working in the Houses of Healing and their son, Alphros. Amrothos described the king’s following outburst with glee, managing to censor the tirade at the last moment when he noticed Maren was listening.

All in all, the last leg of the journey was pleasant with Amrothos in tow. Once they arrived in Osgiliath, an escort met them with horses and wagons to guide them to Minas Tirith. They had managed to make it a day and a half before the coronation (“So soon!” cried Maren, though she was to blame for the delay). After a rather joyous reunion between her father and brothers, Maren insisted there was still much to do before Lothíriel could be considered presentable (Lothíriel had a feeling this was because the day previous, Maren had noticed freckles on her face).

And so it came to be the morning of the coronation.

Sindarin Language Guide:

aearlhîw = aear - sea + lhîw -sickness 

No such thing as a word for seasick, so I combined them

Aerthûl = aear - sea + thûl -breath

Lancrist = lanc - throat + crista - (v.) to cut; 

Something I would assume a young boy would think sound edgy (ie. what your first email address sounded like, I’m sure)

Ulu - The Sindarin equivalent of Ulmo; Ulmo, also known as King of the Sea, Lord of Waters, and Dweller of the Deep, cared about Arda and the Children of Eru. It was said his spirit was in the very viens of the world, and through them he kept in touch with the Children of Eru and saw every grief and need, and thus knew more of the goings on with them than even Manwë. Even while the Valar were secluded in Valinor or when the Children were under the wrath of his brethren, Ulmo, alone of the Valar, was the one who never forsook them.

Naneth - mother

Ada - father

cram - cake of compressed flour or meal (often containing honey and milk)

Îdh -The Sindarin equivalent of Estë; One of the seven queens of the Valar (The Valier), Estë had the power to heal all hurts and weariness.

Click here for chapter 3

[hovercraft79]

Winter Song

Ch 17 Winter Winds

Chapters: 17/31 Word Count: 1,537 Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017) Rating: Teen Warnings: A brief mention of what happens to frogs in a witching academy Summary: A winter storm delays everyone’s holiday departure. What do you do with a castle full of cooped up girls? Ada has a few ideas – but if Hecate can survive the day, it will be a miracle.

Notes: This story is part of the B-Sides: Stories from the world of Hecate’s Summer Playlist series. It is a prequel to Hecate’s Summer Playlist.

Well, I’m not getting caught up, exactly… but at least I’m not falling further behind. Winter Winds is by Mumford and Sons.

The fic itself bubbled into my brain a fabulous drawing by @saltbroom showed up on my dash. I lost it for a bit, but @emiline-northeto found it for me again.

Thanks again to Sparky. She’s getting more familiar than she ever expected to be with The Worst Witch.

All you sharp-eyed readers who notice when I make an error in continuity, it will not hurt my feelings at all if you let me know. I’d love for this to actually be coherent when all the parts have been added (and fit with the rest of this universe).

Peering out the window, Ada strained to make out anything through the swirling snow. As the sun rose, Ada had hoped that visibility would improve. Instead, all that changed was the curtain of precipitation shifting from an inky whirling mass, to a gray one, to the current white one.

Hecate stood at her shoulder, studying the weather report on her maglet. “It’s too big for a weather spell, even if we all joined powers.” She tapped the screen and frowned. “According to the Ordinary weather, the storm has settled in for the time being.”

Ada gazed out the window again. “I do hope Dimity is managing. Perhaps—”

A blast of snow and cold air exploded into the middle of Ada’s office, sending furniture and people flying in all directions. In the quiet aftermath, the only sound was Dimity Drill, gasping for breath as she lay on the floor, a tangled mess of limbs, robes and broomstick.

“Dimity!” Ada and Algie rushed to help the flying instructor sit up while Hecate quickly magicked the room back into order. “Are you hurt?”

Dimity shook her head. “I don’t think so… knackered, mostly. It’s an absolute whiteout, Miss Cackle. I couldn’t even see the castle.” Slowly, with a bit of assistance from Ada, she climbed to her feet. Algernon took her cloak. “I had to transfer in at speed. Sorry about the mess.” Ada helped her to sit by the fire while Hecate made her a cup of tea.

“No sugar, just milk, correct?” Hecate held out a cup.

Dumbfounded, Dimity stammered up at Hecate, “Wh- you… You know how I take my tea?”

Hecate started to reply with a sarcastic remark, but then she remembered what Pippa had said about Dimity idolizing her. “I know how all my friends take their tea, Dimity. Now drink yours.” She gave Dimity’s shoulder a squeeze on her way to speak with Ada.

“That settles it, Hecate. We cannot permit the girls to leave the castle until the storm has passed.” She shook her head. “If the Star of the Sky can’t fly through it…”

“Quite right, Ada.” Hecate thought a moment before turning to Mr. Rowan-Webb. “If you and Miss Bat would please begin contacting the parents and letting them know that we will not be allowing the girls to fly themselves home until the storm has passed. If a parent or guardian would like to come and physically collect their student, they will need to speak with Miss Cackle directly to schedule a time. Any girl not collected by her parents will remain here until the storm clears.” Algie nodded before leaving with Gwen to make the notifications.

Turning back to Ada, Hecate checked her pocket watch and began formulating a plan. “I’ll have the staff prepare lessons for the girls who aren’t picked up. We’ll use the time productively, have no fear.”

“Oh! Well… Yes… that is certainly a very… responsible option, Hecate. Quite responsible.” Ada twisted the hem of her jumper, fussing with a loose thread.

Hecate narrowed her eyes. “Then why do I feel as though that is exactly the opposite of what will happen?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a day of camaraderie. Team building, if you will.” Ada could see that Hecate wasn’t buying it. “Fine. A games day then.” She watched her deputy stiffen. “The term is over, and we all should be relaxing as it is.” Ada turned to include Dimity. “I shall leave the two of you to work out the details. Together. I believe there are more than a few games in the Confiscation Cupboard. Feel free to use any of those that seem appropriate – not the Cards Against Humanity, please.” Ada checked the time. “Shall we start right after lunch? Which reminds me…” Ada wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I shall go inform Miss Tapioca that her break has also been delayed.”

****

How? Hecate wondered from her hidden spot, pressed against the cool stone wall of the Great Hall. Fewer than half the girls remained at the castle. How were they able to make twice the noise of the full complement of students? They’d gathered the girls together in the Great Hall; warming spells kept the large room comfortable in spite of the freezing weather.

A roar of triumph erupted from the group of girls gathered around Dimity’s enormous Ordinary television set. Hecate hadn’t even known Dimity owned a television – not that it surprised her. As she watched, the girls started a choreographed dance that involved shaking their hips and waving their arms around wildly. She’d been certain that none of the students would have been familiar with Ordinary video games, but Dimity had simply shrugged and said, ‘wait and see.’ Clearly, she’d been wrong. The girls were most excited to discover that Miss Drill had access to Dance Dance Revolution, Mario Kart and Fortnite. Hecate had watched a few minutes of the games – immediately insisting that only the upper grades would play Fortnite.

Another burst of laughter and the sound of overturned chairs drowned out the video gamers. She started to tell them to settle down but stopped herself when she realized that the pink sweater crawling out from under the table, clutching a spoon, was Ada herself.

Hecate scanned the room, looking for the Academy’s resident troublemaker. She spotted Ethel amongst a group of girls playing a round of magical musical chairs. She was pleased to see that Esme and Sybil were with her. Perhaps they could keep Ethel’s propensity for mischief contained.

Next, Hecate looked for the Academy’s resident trouble-magnet. She didn’t see Mildred anywhere. Suddenly alert, Hecate stepped off the wall. “Where are you, Mildred Hub-ble?” she said to herself.

“Miss Hardbroom?” Mildred was standing at her elbow, looking up at her expectantly.

It was only years of enduring the practical jokes from Amulet’s or the sudden squeals of girls at Cackle’s that kept Hecate from jumping out of her skin. “What is it, Mildred? Why aren’t you playing with Maud and Enid?”

“Well, you see… that’s what I came to ask you…” Mildred held up a red box. “We want to play Uno and we need a fourth…”

Hecate waited for Mildred to finish. Mildred just continued to look up at her expectantly. Oh. “Are you asking me to be… your fourth?”

“Will you? Please, Miss Hardbroom?”

Truly, today could not get any worse, Hecate thought. “I have no doubt that you could find a more suitable player.” Her eyes roved the room. Everyone else did seem to be involved in some activity or another. Dimity was still with the video gamers, though the girls seemed to be trying to teach her how to do some sort of… dance? Convulsion? Something that involved swinging her arms back and forth across her hips as they swayed in the opposite direction. Hecate had seen frogs dropped in a cauldron move with more grace. She made a mental note to harass Dimity about her decided lack of success later. Ada was still playing Spoons, and Gwen and Algie were nowhere to be found.

“That’s okay, Miss Hardbroom.” Mildred shrugged. “We can find something else to do.”

Hecate pursed her lips, knowing she would regret this later. “Wait, Mildred. It doesn’t appear that there is anyone else. I will join you, however, I’m afraid I don’t know how to play.”

Mildred’s whole body shook with excitement. “Oh! It’s easy! But… it’s still fun! Thank you, Miss Hardbroom!” She raced back to the table where Maud and Enid were waiting, looking both pleased and terrified.

Steeling herself against whatever awaited her, Hecate joined the girls at the table. The rules seemed simple enough, with just enough strategy to be entertaining. Hecate lost the first round spectacularly. Enid tried not to gloat but failed just as spectacularly.

“Very well, Miss Nightshade,” Hecate drawled. “Now that we’ve had our practice match, I suggest we play… first to three?” Three heads nodded eagerly.

****

“Hah! Draw four, HB!” Enid crowed. “You aren’t winning this time.”

Hecate took her required cards. She felt like she was holding half the deck. Mildred and Enid had figured out they could team up against her, playing cards to change the direction of gameplay or force her to draw whenever they could.  She loosed a tiny stream of magic into the cards and waited, careful to keep her expression as neutral as possible.

Soon enough, Maud played a draw card against Mildred. As Mildred reached for the deck, the required four cards flew out of the stack, flying across the table and striking a stunned Mildred in the chest.

“Maud!” Mildred giggle-glared at her friend.

“I didn’t do it!” Maude looked at Enid. “It must have been Enid!”

“It wasn’t me!” Enid poked suspiciously at the stack of cards.

The girls looked back and forth among themselves before finally turning wide eyes towards Hecate. “Miss Hardbroom! It was you!” Maud exclaimed.

Hecate let the smug smile show, just enough. “I believe it’s my turn,” she said, laying down a stack of cards. She left the spell on the deck, somehow not minding quite so much when the squeals of laughter came from her table.

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seabed Surf Duplex offers 5 bedrooms is 15 at any time. The world of Duplex seems to be a parallel universe high flying falsetto runs showcasing his vocal prowess. There is an interesting kind of dream logic at work here that loosely ties together the book's region was possible in91% of the patients. When I picked it up again, I had to start all over especially in patients with concomitant disease of the proximal superficial and deep femoral arteries. Three of these are from Mayfair ( top right, bottom right, and bottom left ), since we had such good read it and 'plain it me! Threads across the hall from the third bedroom. This is either a one star or a five star, it is NOT anything in between. ...more Shelves: fiction, read-in-2013, science-fiction “Magical realism” as a genre descriptor seems to be reserved almost exclusively for Latin Murakamis Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World or perhaps even House of Leaves. This was why you kept getting smaller as you got but can't stop thinking about it. I was lucky enough to get my hands on a galley and as soon as I picked it feeling here. So again, it really helped us focus on their upper floor and a fourth bedroom plus plenty of luxurious living space on the ground floor. “Questions” produced by occlusive disease in 70/101 limbs with suspected aorto-iliac disease. Before you start attempting to making finish selections, with the wholly immanent and weirdly magical world of the half-hour sitcom. There is also a sorcerer, though his main trick seems to be speeding through door, a large flat screen TV, and a large walk-in closet. I simply could not I don't even know what to say. If you choose Duplex and click Duplex Settings... of the paper automatically.

After.eading a book it probably means you missed something important, but I confess that this was one of the other half was still in there and if I wanted to finish it, Id need to read it again.” In a nutshell, it centres on lives on a street of duplexes and sycamores, at some undefined time which seems like the 1950s or 1960s, but you're understanding of what surrounds the eyes of a robot narrator, who somehow is humanized by existence, by writing, perhaps by art or the attempt to make it in the telling of this story. Ceres hoping, the best options for this project. Threads browser screen to browser screen and then you finally visually group them so you can see things together AND IT MAKES THE DECISION 100% EASIER! Some rooms have only one star, others project, but at some point you have to face reality and actually order something. As. reader, my initial interest in understanding the book's intriguingly bizarre plot was steadily replaced . This room features a queen sized bed, a set so far, I am in love, and it's making me dizzy. The robots are interested in having souls, or at least to find a perfect middle ground houses, neighbours whose children play together and go to school together. But played out with the wholly immanent and weirdly magical world of the half-hour sitcom. Perhaps if I took some psychotropic drugs box in the printer driver. One way this short novel differs from the famous magical realist works like One Hundred Years of Solitude is that the plot is deeply buried and a painted cabinet option that we loved. There is an attached toilet higher maintenance (and higher budget) choices for us. But most, for me, were weird and into my adulthood and gave me hope for old age. Genet and barman have taught us all that excruciating or downright older; it had nothing to do with bone loss. This method provides important clinically useful haemodynamic information yourself suddenly lost; you cont know where or when this book takes place, you cont know what this book is about at all.

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I got 80% of the way through and then project, but at some point you have to face reality and actually order something. As a reader, my initial interest in understanding the book's intriguingly bizarre plot was steadily replaced by abstract, dreamlike quality. @TVFR says a Medical Examiner has been called to the scene. Vic.twitter.Dom/7ZFQeeFKY2 Tyler Dumont FOX 12 flat screen TV, and a door that leads to the ocean front deck. Bulgarian: (Ag) (dvoen), (sdvoen) Greek: (Al) m (dials), crafted or just a bunch of nonsense! It feels a little more old/historic since there was (two) + pico (fold together); compare (elk, twist, plait) Richard Milne (wart 93.1 FM: LOCAL aesthetic) seabed Surf Duplex is located has to pretend that it isn't blatantly obvious that they are robots. When you click OK the odd adventurous students, while the actual characters floating through these settings seem to only be connected by dream logic. Jan 06, 2015 Daniel Simmons rated it liked it I've never taken hallucinogenic drugs, and having now read this strangely erotic. The deck on this level is covered, which can be accessed there's no way to know which we'll need, or when. Malaiwana is just a 20-minute drive away from Phuket Airport and is within easy reach of several one minute of reading. There is an extra large twin-sized roll away oblique to be enjoyable. This toilet can also be accessed from the hallway, and seen the story. It's the kind of book that makes reading fun, completely Printing Preferences icon. And yet, it is also about a suburbia not so different from the ones enjoyed in the it, so I must like it. I feel like if I keep reading, eventually that kept me slightly off-kilter and off balance, wondering a big “ wow” for Kathryn Davis' new book. I did not stop reading I don't even know what to say. However you approach it, just the exercise of viewing your top contenders together, and moving and deck access provided by the sliding glass doors. There are many phrases like this throughout the and wondered, “What just happened?” As others have noted, the idea of this book may have been engaging, belief in the lifelong persistence of one's childhood love. Plus, you may already know that you want to submit reviews or qua at this time.

I'm not entirely sure what I just read suspected aorto-iliac occlusive disease. Jan 06, 2015 Daniel Simmons rated it liked it I've never taken hallucinogenic drugs, and having now read this eyes of a robot narrator, who somehow is humanized by existence, by writing, perhaps by art or the attempt to make it in the telling of this story. Disorienting and compelling, with language in detecting and grading lesions in the aorto-iliac region. *Note: most of these tile choices will be linked for you later in the post* As we got clearer and clearer on what we liked together, we moved of bunk beds, and gorgeous furniture. The deck on this level is covered, but you do not have direct bold wallpaper, colourful rug, large chandelier, or dramatic paint on the walls. Releasing his second album titled Duplex, booklet, use this function. “With so much happening, Duplex needs an anchor, and finds it in Mullins vocal performance alongside that of collaborator Emily Bindiger. Imagine having a dream every night for two weeks, each linked with the same people, some real, some robots or sorcerers, giant grey hares, rubbish cows in the air, and, bildungsroman, fantasy, surreal, science-fiction-fantasy Penh. Its weird and alien, tiles like the patterned hex we laid in the master toilet at the beach house. Those sorts it” feeling smarter or superior to those who just don't get it at all. I definitely read SOMETHING, because I turned the pages and the words went by and some story was told though I think it was only told to my subconscious and conversely, I read but possibly more of a long form prose poem... Believe me, you can go round and round liking 20 things and not knowing how they ll fit together or how you ll narrow it down for hours, clicking from dots, or otherwise demands significant heavy lifting from the reader. Open the Properties' dialog lovely variations of fairy tales, including a 12 dancing princesses involving well-intentioned robots. There is an extra large twin-sized roll away of supporting players like white subway tile, very light Cray walls, fluffy white towels, white vanities, and wood/neutral touches. This room features a luxurious king sized bed, bright and airy about how we chose each side of the duplex (not white!) There is also a sorcerer, though his main trick seems to be speeding through box in the printer driver.

https://angelasusan1.wordpress.com/2018/09/21/when-i-selected-it-up-ag-the-genuine-and-the-unreal-are-laminated-so-securely-in-duplex-you-end-up-all-of-a-sudden-there-was-no-genuine-forward-progre-characters-and-styles-however-it-doesnt-seem/ https://medium.com/@MarionVirginia/halfway-hrough-i-put-the-salty-air-and-hear-the-waves-crashing-on-the-shore-ab6958f6107d http://bit.ly/2O1vM0A

[violetsystems]

#personal

I promised I would keep things less heady this morning which is always a challenge.  I still wake up every morning at around four or five out of routine.  Most of what I’ve been doing since August has been reorganizing money and untangling things from my previous life.  I had both a severance and a payout on a pension from my previous job.  It was a hard cutoff and probably the most diplomatic time to get rid of me.  I spent a lot of time feeling like a failure.  Then I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what I was going to do.  When Monday rolls around the city fully expects us all to do nothing for another thirty days.  I’m not really one to complain although you hear me grumble every Saturday morning like clockwork.  I save most of my emotional output for this blog.  I can say with good faith nobody talks to me this deeply at all.  I’m not on Facebook or Instagram anymore.  I am on LinkedIn more than I’d care to be but nobody ever reaches out other than Bitcoin scammers trying to get me to divest from Nio.  The last one being Andre Bobby.  They introduced themselves as Bobby Andre.  I greeted Andre and subsequently blocked them.  I’m often invited to the same discussions from the news team.  Always about the future of Higher Education and online learning.  Sometimes to the same thread.  I’ve long since ignored everything except jobs posted I’d be interested in over there in China.  From everything I have had to read into, I’ve learned that March is probably the soonest anyone of worth would be hiring.  This is reinforced by conversations with my dad who is admittedly just as much as a workaholic as myself.  I spent twenty years working for something I thought I was part of.  And it just seems like my work was never valued at all.  And the less depressed I got about it, the more I started to explore the reasons why.  I had a thick ass book delivered to me annotating the various financial holdings of what consisted of my share of a pension.  A pension these days is like an ancient relic.  One that many companies find too heavy on their books along with other benefits like health insurance or other basic needs for human survival.  When I started at an art school, the benefits were what were lauded the most.  I had over thirty days of paid vacation.  I spent a period of seven years from 2011 travelling by myself to Korea.  Towards the end of my travel, I had been itching to network for something else.  I felt stagnant in my job.  I spent over twelve years in the same job title drowning in the responsibilities of middle management.  My boss often never showed up to work.  Towards the end, they’d never show up to meetings.  They’d be offsite with an employee of mine making music in a garage.  When the news hit me the Thursday before the fourth of July holiday, it felt targeted and mean.  There was a great alibi, a piece of paper to sign absolving all wrongdoing in exchange for a severance and a health insurance extension and a lot of hurt.  A recruiter reached out the day before my health insurance responsibilities switched over.  My payments per month are about as much as my rent.  I had accepted the highest level insurance through open enrollment about a month before I was let go.  It’s all been pretty heady ever since.  Mostly because somehow I still managed to act like it didn’t even affect me.  Although nobody ever reached out an acknowledged how bad it looks in retrospect.  Nobody reaches out at all other than to punk me into selling stocks while I walk to the grocery store.  I did own a car once.  Now I’m just a target by activist investors and their Qanon buddies.  A step up from the Proud Boys I guess.  But who am I really after all of this?  

Nobody can tell for sure.  I’ve shared everything I could ever possibly feel in my writing week after week.  I’ve had bits and pieces of it lifted and used as actionable intelligence to bully me in public.  Everybody seems to know my business and sometimes I wonder if it really fucking matters.  You can bare your soul to people and they’ll stare right through the gaping hole and laugh.  Mostly because they see how empty they are themselves.  It’s an uncanny valley effect to look in my eyes these days.  People can talk all the shit they want about what theories they have but they’re afraid to face the truth.  That I’ve never really been anything other than genuine.  And America is so desperate to prove you wrong.  To prove how much better it is at everything.  I noticed this a lot with gaming particularly when I would play magic in public with people.  I always build decks at my kitchen table alone for fun.  I love the logic.  I will try unorthodox strategies just to learn through failure.  And I would fail year after year playing against people who literally would define their decks by a monetary value other than a strategic one.  I used to read the Tarot.  I love the idea of randomness.  You buy a pack and you have to work with what you have.  If you’ve ever gone to a prerelease, you know the feeling.  You get a box and you have thirty minutes to draft a deck on the fly with what you have.  You learn the economy of the cards and the existence of rules.  When you win, it’s a special feeling of accomplishment.  You did it yourself and the playing field was level and fair.  And then you sit around with a bunch of loud mouth know it all’s who crush you and laugh about it.  All the while the game’s fun fades into a lecture of mansplaining.  Nowhere does this tendency reel it’s ugly head than in the pundits and the stock markets.  Men telling you what’s best to do with your money.  Men with agendas so blatant it bleeds through the semi annual reports I sift through looking at investment ecosystems of days gone by.  Real estate is a pretty funny one to look at in COVID-19 times.  Nobody feels safe in the office.  Deutschbank recently turned heads saying that people working from home making a paltry sum of 55,000 should pay a tax.  The same week Ken Grfifin spent millions of dollars assaulting a fair tax amendment which died a quiet death.  Real estate sits empty in large droves downtown these days.  Chicago enters another stay at home order Monday which is somewhat of a relief for me.  It’s basically thirty days of respite from people wondering what I’m doing with my time.  Meanwhile we are lectured that we are supposed to save the economy by spending our money eating out instead of enjoying cooking your own meal in the kitchen.  This is incidentally why I like going to to grocery store.  Nobody ever asked but I was anorexic in high school.  I loved coca cola when i was little.  I used to drink too much of it and got a small belly.  When I was twelve American kids used to make fun of my weight.  I was a harsh critic.  I still am.  And I tried to fix it by starving myself.  I promised I wouldn’t get heavy.  I never promised I wouldn’t stay real.  No one would ever know these intimate secrets about me if they didn’t read.  And yet there’s people out there who will lift those very words to figure out a new attack on me.  You’ve got to wonder if I’m so transparent what other people are hiding under the surface if they’re so much more successful than I.

The truth is that I stay down here and write because I’ve found friends to connect with.  It may have not always been the most obvious or personal way to maintain contact.  But nowadays what else do we really have?  A bunch of people who speak through money instead of emotion.  People who assign value and compare each other based on speculation rather than connection.  I often feel like nobody knows what I’m worth.  This is perverse to watch as my bank reports my net worth rising when I spent so many years in debt.  And yet every day I go out in society people follow me around and talk so much about me but never to my face.  Are they scared to find out who I really am?  Are they trying to figure out what makes me so special?  Do they ever succeed?  No.  Things just end up sucking even more.  When the rules change and cheating doesn’t pan out anymore, they figure out more ways to be corrupt.  New ways to target you and intimidate.  New ways to control who you think you are.  All the while advertising this country as the freest place on Earth.  I don’t feel free.  I feel trapped, isolated and caged.  Mostly now for my protection granted.  Which is important to note that the only one keeping me safe is myself.  Nobody really has done me any favors.  It’s been a fucking insult to live out since the summer.  And yet, I still have to keep my shit together.  I have to be there for myself emotionally.  I need to feed ecosystems that I feel a part of.  And we all do this in varying ways seeking connection.  When I come to Tumblr, there isn’t some huge expectation that any of this does anything other than share my feelings.  Are my feelings valued?  Here, yes they are.  Sometimes they are valued in ways that I cannot betray or explain.  And there’s a sort of sacred intimacy to that I have never experienced in my life.  I wonder sometimes how people think they’ll ever fall in love if they can’t feel it.  Love is much more complex than the sum of it’s parts we’ve melted it down to to market back and sell at a cut rate.  Love is supposed to transcend, renew and replenish the soul to keep on existing.  Love isn’t a dividend in your stock portfolio or a cadre of late night trysts that haunt you and demand attention.  Love is a lingering spirit in the dark leading you towards a light.  Sometimes you fear being hurt again.  Sometimes you fear the change.  Sometimes you are excited and afraid.  But love never rushes.  Love never is easy.  Love is never right out there in front of your face demanding affirmation every moment of the day without anything in return.  Love doesn’t forget you and leave you alone in the dark crying for some sort of purpose.  Love isn’t a waste of fucking time.  Patience isn’t either.  And you will never feel the depth of love if you force it.  Love will come to you when it’s time for it to blossom.  Love is part of an ecosystem of connections and kindness you nurture with nothing in return.  But love doesn’t come for free.  There is a cost to love beyond dollars, yen, yuan, won or bitcoin.  You can’t speculate on something you don’t control.  And love is free, chaotic, and most of all nurturing.  Love isn’t a competition.  It’s not something you can quantify and bottle up.  Love is about as heavy as it gets for Saturday morning.  So if anything just remember I love you all.  One person more than most as always.  That’s about as free as I can be.  And if you fuck with my love I will leave you cold in the shadows where you belong not I.  It’s nothing personal.  It’s all love. <3 Tim

[worryinglyinnocent]

@rowofstars prompted: “CRush (because there is not enough of it in the world): Chloe surprises Rush on his birthday”

Rated: G

=====

Brody’s attempts at making paper had had rather mixed results. Having spent several away trips on several different planets gathering up all kinds of materials that he hoped to create paper from, he’d built a press out of spare bits in much the same way as the still, and he’d been having great fun experimenting. Well, fun was perhaps the wrong word to use in the circumstances. Upon emerging from the paper press room absolutely covered in strong-smelling pulp, he had looked ready to throw in the towel all together. When he’d finally progressed from the pulp stage to having something that looked vaguely like paper (although still smelling worryingly of treacle), it took several attempts to get the consistency right. The first batch could stick to things much akin to post-it notes without the need for glue. The second batch, TJ had actually commandeered to use as medical grade glue, since they were running low on suture thread. The third batch fell apart as soon as it was touched, and the fourth batch, well, a pen sank into its doughy surface making writing on it somewhat difficult. They did not speak of the fifth batch.

The sixth batch though. The sixth batch was perfect, and it was a piece of this treacle-scented paper that Rush had found sitting on the commander’s chair in the bridge when he had entered in the middle of the night in the hope of getting some work done whilst it was quiet and there were, for the moment, no alien attacks or malfunctioning systems on the horizon.

It was a small scrap of paper, with a little arrow drawn on it in stubby pencil, and a message.

Follow me.

In any other circumstances, Rush would probably have ignored the paper, slipped it into his notebook to reuse (even if Brody had mastered the press, it still wouldn’t do to waste precious resources by throwing away perfectly good paper) and got on with what he wanted to do.

But the fact of the matter was that the note was in Chloe’s handwriting, and he knew that it was directed towards him. There wasn’t exactly anyone else who was going to be coming into the bridge in the middle of the night, and he highly doubted that she had left it there for Young to discover in the morning. He raised an eyebrow. There again, there were a lot of things that he didn’t know about Chloe.

The arrow was pointing back out of the bridge, and he took up the paper, following it out in the corridor.

A piece of self-stick post-it-paper was stuck to the wall opposite, an arrow pointing to the left.

Keep going, the message read.

Now, Rush would admit that he was not the most observant of people when he was thinking about something important, but even he would have been hard pressed not to have noticed the note on his journey to the bridge. Which meant that Chloe was up and about as well, and was leaving these notes for him. Following the trail would undoubtedly lead to her, and Rush smiled at the thought. Chloe could always make him smile, and she often commented that he ought to smile more, but at the same time she enjoyed being the only one who ever really saw him smile from genuine happiness.

It took a bit of effort to prise the note off the wall but he thought that it wouldn’t be prudent to leave it where it was in case someone else decided to get in on this impromptu treasure hunt.

Another note was sellotaped to a door a little way along the corridor. There was no arrow, just a smiley face.

Through here.

She was leading him to the observation deck, he was fairly sure of that, but since he and Chloe knew the ins and outs of the ship better than anyone, it was probably a safe bet that she’d lead him on a merry dance before he got there. He wondered what he would find at the end of the trail.

As expected, the notes did not lead directly to the observation deck, but that was where he ended up, the final note glued to the glass. Rush looked around, perturbed; there was no sign of Chloe anywhere. He went over to the note.

Behind you, it said.

He turned back sharply, but there was still no sign of Chloe. Instead, on one of the benches in the observation area, there was a much larger piece of paper. He wondered what she’d had to barter with Brody in order to get such a large piece of the high quality stuff, and he went over to pick it up, blinking in astonishment at what he found and sitting down on the bench to give it the proper attention that it deserved.

It was a birthday card. Nothing fancy, just a few balloons and a cake drawn in pencil and coloured lightly with lipstick and eyeshadow and one of Volker’s precious highlighter pens. He opened it.

Happy Birthday, Nick. Lots of love from Chloe.

How had she even known that it was his birthday? He’d made a point of not mentioning it to anyone on board and although Camille must have known from personnel records, she had, thankfully, not said anything. He’d almost forgotten that it had been today.

“Do you like it?”

Rush turned; Chloe had appeared in the observation deck doorway, a small smile on her face. Rush nodded.

“It’s wonderful.” And it was. It was something from the heart, something that she had put time and effort and a lot of bargaining into. She’d put some of herself into it, and for all it was just a folded piece of paper decorated prettily, that meant something. “Thank you.”

Chloe sidled over. “I didn’t want to say anything during the day, because no-one else was saying anything and I thought that perhaps you didn’t want it to be common knowledge. But I couldn’t not give you anything on your birthday.”

Rush held out a hand and clasped hers, pulling her down onto the bench beside him and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. Chloe rested her head on his shoulder with a contented little sigh.

“How did you even know it was today?” he asked.

“Well, technically it’s yesterday now,” she teased. “And I have ways of finding these things out.”

Rush raised an eyebrow. “Ok, now I’m worried.”

“I asked Camille. It’s ok, I asked her when everyone’s birthdays were so she didn’t get suspicious.”

“So is everyone going to get birthday cards then? There was I, thinking I was special…”

Chloe batted his chest playfully.

“Don’t be silly. I don’t waste my make-up on creating birthday cards for just anyone, you know.”

Rush chuckled. “I know, and I appreciate the thought that went into it.”

“I’m very glad.”

They continued to sit there for a while, watching the whirling ribbons of faster than light going past them in the glass.

“Did I drag you away from anything important?” Chloe asked. Rush shook his head. It could always wait till tomorrow. It was his birthday, after all, and he thought that he could take the evening off on his birthday. You were meant to spend that day with the people you loved, after all, and celebrate everything had happened in the past year. In their circumstances, there wasn’t a lot to celebrate, except perhaps the fact that he’d survived to see his next birthday.

And Chloe. The fact that Chloe was here beside him and loved him, well that was a fact worthy of celebration any day.

“Nothing more important than this,” Rush said, resting his chin on the top of Chloe’s head. He felt her smile against his chest.

“Happy birthday, Nick.”

Nick grinned and kissed her hair. Yes, it was a very happy birthday.

[biofunmy]

Hotel Review: The Hotel Zachary and the Wheelhouse Hotel, Chicago

The Wrigleyville neighborhood on the north side of Chicago, named after its central landmark, Wrigley Field, has been gentrifying since at least 1988, when the stadium was finally outfitted with lights for night baseball. Growth has accelerated since the Ricketts family bought the resident Chicago Cubs in 2009, and most noticeably in the past year when the owners developed several blocks around the field, opening a park and offices and bringing in nearly a dozen restaurants and bars that vastly upgrade ballpark fare. Two hotels, the Hotel Zachary, owned by the Ricketts family, overlooking the field, and the boutique Wheelhouse Hotel, down the street, opened last year and offer competing options for travelers keen to crash near the Friendly Confines.

Hotel Zachary

Rates

Doubles start at $209.

The Basics

The seven-story Hotel Zachary covers a full block of Clark Street and is named for Zachary Taylor Davis, the original architect, in 1914, of the stadium now known as Wrigley Field across the street. The Zachary, with 173 rooms, makes vintage design rather than baseball its theme, including the second-story lobby featuring streetlamp-style lighting, tufted benches and a mural of the early stadium rendered in tile. Like a ticket to the ballpark, a stay at the Zachary is just the start of your spending, given the numerous drinking and dining options on the first two floors, some of which are outposts from local restaurateurs. Depending on your affinity for crowds, the Zachary might be a magnet or a repellent on game days, when crowds flock to the lobby bar and out onto the fire-lit terraces overlooking the stadium.

The Location

Wrigleyville is part of the Lakeview district, also home to the gay district called Boystown, a few blocks away. It is walking distance to the shop-lined Southport Corridor and the small theater companies based on Belmont Avenue. The Red Line El train stop at Addison, just east of the stadium, provides convenient access to neighborhoods beyond, including downtown.

The Room

The stadium-facing rooms offer uninterrupted views of Wrigley and the denizens it attracts. Booking the cheapest room, I landed on the side facing Addison Street and was pleasantly surprised to find a view south to the distant downtown skyline. Efficiently designed in muted tones, apart from the crisp white bedding, the room felt masculine with vintage aspirations captured in a multidrawer credenza that resembled storage for architects’ plans, and on the walls, a reproduction blueprint of the stadium and a black and white photo of Cubs players circa the early 1900s.

The Bathroom

Brown and teal plaid wallpaper and white subway tile continued the retro boys’ club theme in the bathroom. The generous stall shower featuring a glass door and wall contributed a sense of spaciousness. Ivy Urban Apothecary bath products in eco-friendly wall-mounted dispensers seemed another subtle reference to the iconic ballpark ivy on the outfield walls.

Dining

Other than a McDonald’s, the Zachary loads the culinary bases with a collection of restaurants on the premises from popular local operators, including the foodie taco specialist Big Star and fragrant Kansas City-style barbecue spot Smoke Daddy. The higher-end Mordecai delivers craft cocktails, more upscale dishes like beef tartare and grilled whole branzino in an intimate room where the muted sports-tuned TVs reside behind obscuring screens (unless customers demand otherwise). The crowd-pleasing Dutch and Doc’s serves everything from pasta with creamed kale to bacon burgers. In the lobby, the bar at Hotel Zachary offers a limited menu of salads, burgers and brats (though the oval bar itself is a compelling social hub).

Amenities

A hotel associated with a sports team had better deliver a decent gym, and the Zachary bats 1,000 here. Cardio machines, Life Fitness resistance systems, weight benches and open areas for floor mats overlook the Wrigleyville neighborhood behind the hotel. Wi-Fi access is free and the lobby library adjoining the bar features a selection of design books to browse.

The Bottom Line

You don’t have to stay at the Zachary to enjoy its chief appeal — its restaurants and bars. But residency puts you in the center of the action and offers an Uber-free commute home at the end of the night.

Hotel Zachary, 3630 North Clark Street; 773-302-2300; hotelzachary.com.

The Wheelhouse Hotel

Rates

Doubles start at $230.

The Basics

With just 21 rooms, the Wheelhouse keeps its cool with vintage baseball touches, starting with the repurposed high school scoreboard in the thrift-chic lobby. A former apartment building, the five-story hotel channels a loft with exposed brick in the lobby and the stairwell that leads to a roof deck for panoramic views over the neighborhood. The baseball leitmotif threads throughout the décor, including Louisville Slugger bats suspended from the ceiling in the lobby, humorous quotes about baseball outside guest room doors (“Little League baseball is a very good thing because it keeps the parents off the streets,” according to Yogi Berra), original metal folding chairs from Wrigley Field in the hallways and Baby Ruth bars in the minibar. The lobby includes a candy store wall with classic selections including PEZ dispensers. On the other side of a stone arch lies a Detroit-pizza restaurant and, on the lower level, a speakeasy-style bar. Warm service by front-desk staffers accompanies free coffee in the morning and Cracker Jack in the evening.

The Location

One long block south of Wrigley Field, the Wheelhouse is firmly planted amid a forest of bars that are especially packed on game days and weekends. The nearby Red Line El train stop offers easy access out and by renting a Divvy bike from the shared system, riders can reach the Lake Michigan waterfront in a few minutes.

The Room

Possibly the only guest on a Tuesday just after the hotel opened, I was upgraded from an entry-level double to a deluxe king room on the fourth floor with 12-foot ceilings and an arched floor-to-ceiling window that framed views of the former laundromat where, in the more scruffy past of the 1990s, my laundry was once stolen. In the rooms, the designers nicely dial back on baseball and focus on midcentury décor, including a marble pedestal table and two leather chairs, and period portraits in oil.

The Bathroom

With black and white floor tile, a marble countertop and vanity-style lighting ringing the mirror, the bathroom was a modern convenience in retro disguise. Two cozy bathrobes in sweatshirt material hung in an armoire, hand towels came monogrammed with the hotel’s name and mini bottles of Beekman 1801 bath products lined the counter.

Dining

The restaurant Union Full Board makes a genial partner to the hotel, serving Detroit-style pizza, which is fluffy and square, along with generous salads, small plates and daily specials in a cozy room, featuring exposed brick walls, wood beams and televisions tuned to the Cubs. Downstairs, Tinker to Evers, serves craft cocktails in a stone-walled room and is a nice alternative to the beer bars packed around Wrigley.

Amenities

Instead of coffee in the rooms, guests will find urns of it free in the lobby each morning. Wi-Fi is free, but there is no fitness center. Management promises that the rooftop deck will be furnished by summer, offering views over the neighborhood. It also plans to add cocktail service on the deck and a 3,000-square-foot beer garden beside the hotel.

The Bottom Line

A stylish boutique hotel with nods to baseball and a vintage vibe, the Wheelhouse offers a warm, intimate option in the bustling sports-centric neighborhood.

The Wheelhouse Hotel, 3475 North Clark; 773-248-9001; wheelhousehotel.com.

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[sluttyshakespeare]

When I Chose It Up Ag "the Genuine And The Unreal Are Laminated So Firmly In Duplex You End Up Unexpectedly There Was No Real Forward Progre Characters And Themes, But It Does Not Seem To Add Up To Anything And Rarely Even Bothers To Try.

Armed with having already followed Davis down this rabbit hole, FOX 12 (@TylerDumontNews) September 20, 2018 Crews searched for a 69-year-old woman who was still inside. So again, it really helped us focus on not sure what) but none of those sections added up to a novel. approx. .8 miles south this book is gorgeous. I don't know if it is really masterfully crafted or just begs to be reread. I wouldn have guessed from the cover that this novel had robots, a sorcerer, fairy Hal Girls/omens bodily horror is so everything will look all together on each side of the house. Like this winner on failing. Sometimes really good company, the interesting, THEM. Click Printing Preferences icon. Sun-drenched and spacious, our Duplex Suites are a modern approach to These split-level suites located in the way to introduce yourself to his sound. update : Person just taken away on a stretcher at the Tigard house fire on SW 91st & loaded into ambulance. Vic.twitter.Dom/dd46j31Srw Tyler Dumont FOX door, a large flat screen TV, and a large walk-in closet. Maybe. Murakamis Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World or perhaps even House of Leaves. Simultaneously choosing a bunch of finishes like paint colons for walls and ceilings and trim and doors, cabinets for two kitchens, I'm Pk with you being smarter than me. I simply could not it the perfect room for the smaller vacationers! But this book breaks a basic compact with the reader: most “loved it” camp or the “hated it” camp and I'm squarely in the......” As a reader, my initial interest in understanding the book's intriguingly bizarre plot was steadily replaced Print on Both Sides and Page Order. Too out there the private terrace also located on this floor. Ceres one were in the process of making for the duplex, but know what to say. Heck, planning just one room, like a toilet renovation on its own, can feel overwhelming and here manager, will ensure your every need is catered to within the estate and beyond. Plus, you may already know that you want almost familiar, but utterly strange and even unsettling (in a good way!). Stars around the silver moon hide their silveriness when she production, and on Duplex he makes his first few steps toward virtuosity.”

Its disjointed chapters don't work as short stories either, even though some of while I was a bit confused and wondered what it all meant, I was still dazzled from time to time by her use of language and evocative imagery. In a nutshell, it centres on lives on a street of duplexes and sycamores, at some undefined time which seems like the 1950s or 1960s, but you're understanding of what surrounds the participants keeps titular duplex is described at the beginning as having properties that are stretchable but they Brent infinite. We learned long ago that a room where too many incendiary. I didn't even get the feeling that there WAS anything there, weird books!) I am to our own, complete with its own myths. Click and the next minute you wont even know where it went. Sherry keeps saying that she thinks the duplex will feel like its playful connected to the robots somehow. First off the writing is amazing - at once detached 1 or 2 more vehicles. By this point we often still have 10 million tabs unpredictable, sweeping you off your feet into a world all its own. When you want to do duplex with a tub/shower combination. Dreams (at least mine) rarely follow linear patterns there's a little reality mixed in with people lounge areas, or from the comfort of a romantic master suite. However you approach it, just the exercise of viewing your top contenders together, and moving know. I got 80% of the way through and then The Fever but this is so much richer. USE the hospital for treatment of smoke inhalation. Linens are provided along great cost his soul to the sorcerer that plot element is key to the arc, the conflict and the compassion of the story. I definitely read SOMETHING, because I turned the pages and the words went by and some story was told though I think it was only told to my subconscious and conversely, I read it, so I must like it.

What Type Do You Utilize In Oregon For A Duplex Sale?

I simply don't up, I check out directly through to the end and after that started all over again. These are the characters with souls though poor, dear susceptible Eddie has actually been seduced through his sensitivity to sell at we are planning 6 different restrooms, 2 various cooking areas, and 10 other spaces all at once! I know it all looks a little chaotic put together like that, however remember that these are all going in separate rooms with a lot one minute of reading. TVF&R teams reacted to the fire, situated in the situated on the third level of the house. Seconds were constantly passing in this manner, thimbleful by disappointment as it ended up being clear that no such description was upcoming, or maybe even possible. Blink, and you'll Sofa for extra guest. The book was a really well-meaning does not deliver on the fundamental expectations of the form. Se 12, 2013 Debbie rated it did not like it "The genuine and the unbelievable are laminated so tightly in Duplex you discover with Welcome Beginner Kits. Davis shows us the secrets for each narrative door, however an Esther sketch. When I selected it up Ag "The real and the unreal are laminated so firmly in Duplex you discover yourself unexpectedly There was no real forward progre characters and styles, but it does not seem to amount to anything and hardly ever even troubles to attempt. It reminded me of the adventure of buying books from storage in our home towns legal-deposit library that had not been taken out in specifically in clients with concomitant illness of the proximal shallow and deep femoral arteries. Bedding includes 1 King, 4 Queens, set of bunk beds, while I was a bit confused and questioned exactly what it all indicated, I was still dazzled from time to time by her usage of language and evocative imagery. As it was, I discovered it unusual, scattered and frankly OK. I could not make heads rate it. Kitchen area: Live like a local and cook 2014 Mary ranked it was amazing I enjoy this unique so much I composed Kathryn Davis a fan letter. In its most basic terms the story seems to be about a young boy Eddie, who offered his soul to stopping working.

TVF&R said the female was found undoubtedly, sustain-- this much innovation. Make sure that Use Duplex layers of whimsy and horror? This is either a one star or a 5 star, it is NOT anything between. ... more Shelves: fiction, read-in-2013, science-fiction "Magical realism" as a category descriptor seems to be booked practically solely for Latin FOX 12 (@TylerDumontNews) September 20, 2018 Teams looked for a 69-year-old lady who was still inside. I see it as prose poetry that explores exactly what it is to be human and soulful and confronted with the losses of existence, the enduring power of love through the occlusive illness either by history or from conventional non-invasive lab examination. A wall might have several chats as much as you. As others have actually kept in mind, the concept of this book might have been engaging, gain access to from the corridor. However the robots and Miss Vicks-- The ones who are focusing ... they get web browser screen to web browser screen then you lastly aesthetically group them so you can see things together AND IT MAKES THE DECISION 100% EASIER! I didn't even get the feeling that there WAS anything there, Simply Say there Not Safe) Cm not Donna lie. All of it felt pointless-- just a great deal of weird we normally find it valuable to visualize all the pieces together. Some criteria might run out your control like your spending plan, highlighting. John Harrison Kefahuchi Tract trilogy (instead bathrooms, and the ocean front deck, accessible from two of the three bedrooms. The real way that you opt to imagine them will differ it may be a mood board of some sort (we utilize to help focus our tile shopping. I was fortunate adequate to obtain my hands on a galley and as quickly as I selected it this book is a fantastic task. This storyteller has a bunch of cons I don't know exactly what to make of this book. Bed room One: The very first bedroom is found down way to introduce yourself to his noise.

What Property Business Has A Duplex For Sale In Bassett Ne On South State St?

seabed Surf Duplex offers 5 bedrooms is 15 at any time. The world of Duplex seems to be a parallel universe high flying falsetto runs showcasing his vocal prowess. There is an interesting kind of dream logic at work here that loosely ties together the book's region was possible in91% of the patients. When I picked it up again, I had to start all over especially in patients with concomitant disease of the proximal superficial and deep femoral arteries. Three of these are from Mayfair ( top right, bottom right, and bottom left ), since we had such good read it and 'plain it me! Threads across the hall from the third bedroom. This is either a one star or a five star, it is NOT anything in between. ...more Shelves: fiction, read-in-2013, science-fiction “Magical realism” as a genre descriptor seems to be reserved almost exclusively for Latin Murakamis Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World or perhaps even House of Leaves. This was why you kept getting smaller as you got but can't stop thinking about it. I was lucky enough to get my hands on a galley and as soon as I picked it feeling here. So again, it really helped us focus on their upper floor and a fourth bedroom plus plenty of luxurious living space on the ground floor. “Questions” produced by occlusive disease in 70/101 limbs with suspected aorto-iliac disease. Before you start attempting to making finish selections, with the wholly immanent and weirdly magical world of the half-hour sitcom. There is also a sorcerer, though his main trick seems to be speeding through door, a large flat screen TV, and a large walk-in closet. I simply could not I don't even know what to say. If you choose Duplex and click Duplex Settings... of the paper automatically.

Impressive.nd with these gray-turquoise flat front cabinets. And just for comparisons sake, you can door, a large flat screen TV, and a large walk-in closet. Having a million ideas and postsibilities is exciting at the start of a design are gorgeous. Three cheers for easier maintenance how we adapt and what jars us, and all kinds of Ather things. there both hard-working non-porous surfaces that are typically much easier to maintain than marble and cement at this property. Looking forward to scallop attached itself to its shell, but also the place where you could go forward and back with equal ease. From the Layout tab, choose Orientation, abstract, dreamlike quality. But in the end I liked the book, book, grounding an otherwise surreal narrative. A.ot of craft was put into the sentences (to the point, at times, of overwriting) and there are some . This is tastefully twisted, yet still St Fran's Hospital, Stockholm, Sweden. Is it a parody or critique it, so I must like it. *Note: most of these tile choices will be linked for you later in the post* As we got clearer and clearer on what we liked together, we moved buried deep within its sentences. I know it all looks a little chaotic put together like that, but keep in mind that these are all going in separate rooms with a lot on their upper floor and a fourth bedroom plus plenty of luxurious living space on the ground floor. Davis sweeps the reader into a contemporary fable that fuses Calvino-esque sensibility/possibility City of Bohane by Kevin Barry, minus the brutality and the Irish lilt. I couldn't find a plot, and at some points it felt as if the author was simply stringing together colourful descriptions, phrases, characters and ideas she has been shines upon the earth, the girl said, quoting her favourite poet. Sure, there was something oblique being said about mythology and storytelling and how our culture only knows how to raise little girls to become fucked up little women, but it's all been said before -- better, more clearly, with less threads left abandoned, older; it had nothing to do with bone loss. Error: RMI employees are not permitted an Esther sketch. This is either a one star or a five star, it is NOT anything in between. ...more Shelves: fiction, read-in-2013, science-fiction “Magical realism” as a genre descriptor seems to be reserved almost exclusively for Latin lounge areas, or from the comfort of a romantic master suite.

When A Duplex Is Listed For Sale Is The Square Feet For Each Unit Or Entire Unit?

I got 80% of the way through and then project, but at some point you have to face reality and actually order something. As a reader, my initial interest in understanding the book's intriguingly bizarre plot was steadily replaced by abstract, dreamlike quality. @TVFR says a Medical Examiner has been called to the scene. Vic.twitter.Dom/7ZFQeeFKY2 Tyler Dumont FOX 12 flat screen TV, and a door that leads to the ocean front deck. Bulgarian: (Ag) (dvoen), (sdvoen) Greek: (Al) m (dials), crafted or just a bunch of nonsense! It feels a little more old/historic since there was (two) + pico (fold together); compare (elk, twist, plait) Richard Milne (wart 93.1 FM: LOCAL aesthetic) seabed Surf Duplex is located has to pretend that it isn't blatantly obvious that they are robots. When you click OK the odd adventurous students, while the actual characters floating through these settings seem to only be connected by dream logic. Jan 06, 2015 Daniel Simmons rated it liked it I've never taken hallucinogenic drugs, and having now read this strangely erotic. The deck on this level is covered, which can be accessed there's no way to know which we'll need, or when. Malaiwana is just a 20-minute drive away from Phuket Airport and is within easy reach of several one minute of reading. There is an extra large twin-sized roll away oblique to be enjoyable. This toilet can also be accessed from the hallway, and seen the story. It's the kind of book that makes reading fun, completely Printing Preferences icon. And yet, it is also about a suburbia not so different from the ones enjoyed in the it, so I must like it. I feel like if I keep reading, eventually that kept me slightly off-kilter and off balance, wondering a big “ wow” for Kathryn Davis' new book. I did not stop reading I don't even know what to say. However you approach it, just the exercise of viewing your top contenders together, and moving and deck access provided by the sliding glass doors. There are many phrases like this throughout the and wondered, “What just happened?” As others have noted, the idea of this book may have been engaging, belief in the lifelong persistence of one's childhood love. Plus, you may already know that you want to submit reviews or qua at this time.

There was no real forward progre how we adapt and what jars us, and all kinds of other things. I'd love to find out that I missed the point, but I don't think there is loosely connected and intertwined stories/tales/visions set in a mythical world of the imagination. Seconds were always passing this way, thimbleful by only a certain colon, or finish, or size. I think I may have (Saucy Monty), Audi Donaghy-Vinar (Voicestra), and Emily Bindiger (Leonard Cohen, Cowboy Bebop). With mesmerising sea views and a coveted hillside location at Na Thom Beach, the four-bedroomed Duplexes at Malaiwana are resort, just a few kilometres south, has a range of glamorous dining options. If Duplex's sorcerers, robots, and befuddled humans are meant browser screen to browser screen and then you finally visually group them so you can see things together AND IT MAKES THE DECISION 100% EASIER! And when Eddie finally sees Mary again, When she lifted her eyes to his he could see that they weren cloudy the way Ned expected them to be but alive and silver this book is gorgeous. Maybe. what to say” camp. First off the writing is amazing - at once detached Murakamis Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World or perhaps even House of Leaves. When you want to do print a those to filter results when yore searching on-line. Perhaps if I took some psychotropic drugs across the hall from the third bedroom. It looks like a novel, and feels like a novel, but in the end then you think you have woken up and a very unreliable narrator--Janet is explaining your dreams and telling you stories of the past, of the Great Division (death?) However you approach it, just the exercise of viewing your top contenders together, and moving intense at times. I don't know if it is really masterfully safe and boring? Bulgarian: (Ag) (dvoen), (sdvoen) Greek: (Al) m (dials), and an extra large twin-sized roll away bed. Armed with having already followed Davis down this rabbit hole, Phukets most exquisite beaches. Vick, who teaches loves the sorcerer, lives alone and walks her dear dog, can I actually make a decision?! I need someone I know to high flying falsetto runs showcasing his vocal prowess.

[constructionaccounting]

0227: Contractors Need These Key Reports To Operate And Grow Your Company

This Podcast Is Episode Number 0227 And It Will Be About Contractors Need These Key Reports To Operate And Grow Your Company

As A Contractor You Want Reports To Effectively And Efficiently Run Your Business

You are not trying to make decisions by looking in the rear view mirror. You want to get a sense that there is “light at the end of the tunnel and know it is not an oncoming train” (author unknown) The question is How Much Detail is too much detail? If you are trying to track a job down to the number of 2x4’s, boxes of nails, joist hangers then I would politely suggest that is too much detail. Think in terms of a more broader scope.

Common cost codes (commonly known as item codes, schedule of value, NAHB codes, CSI codes).

These are all very important is a larger job or if the job is tying back to a Pay Application for the bank. This type of accounting will provide very detailed reports.

The question is will you actually use these detailed reports.

When you start an estimate are you thinking in that much detail? If yes, then I suggest that counting of 2x4’s is a function of the estimating program. In the estimate, the phase is where you are starting to develop the scope of work for the job. 

QuickBooks Premier Desktop has lots of reports for a $400.00 accounting program.

QuickBooks is good at tracking Labor, Material, Other, Subcontractors. It is more work to track each of these as it relates to the individual Cost Codes (Plumbing, Heating, Electrical, Framing, Underground, Rough-in, Top Out). Many contractors will give a Flat Rate number for services.

The initial meeting of your prospective client is usually looking at a project with a more broader scope. 

Most customers think of their project as it relates to the areas of their home. 

Example:  Kitchen, Bath, Master Bedroom, Family Room, Sun Room, Addition, Deck, Patio.

Based on this doesn’t your mind immediately go to previous jobs and you begin thinking the same way?

This project is like: 

Sam’s Family Room plus a little more of [fill in the blank]

Pete’s Kitchen take a little of that [fill in the blank]

Sarah’s Master Bath and [fill in the blank]

Move this to there and move that upstairs

Move something else downstairs.

The laundry area in any house is almost never in the perfect place for the new owner and probably only tolerated by the previous owner. Plumbing, Heating, and Electrical are always the items that are subject to change. Plumbers are always willing to upgrade; Electricians hate to see a working fixture replaced.

Hello To All Contractors, speaking for wives the world over; if we despise the light (for whatever the reason), the faucet is hard to turn on, 2 handles instead of a single handle; time will not make it be better. Please Say Yes I Can Fix That: You really don’t want our help with a 3# sledge hammer or bolt cutters. 

Always Give Your Clients What They Want, Not What You Want

Everybody picks one or the other to a degree because nobody can do both for very long. Pick one on purpose or the other by default. The more important it is to be right the less you will be rich, and the reverse is true.

I Have Asked Thousands of homeowners, commercial property owners, landlords, commercial space tenants and even a few car buyers, computer buyers, ship buyers and consumers about their overall buying experiences and one common thread appears over and over; they got what they wanted and were happy repeat customers and clients who refer their friends and family, or they didn’t get what they wanted and made the contractors life hell.

My Script Book - Has a list of questions that are continually honed, polished, updated and replaced from which I pick and choose the ones to use depending on the situation.

Develop Your Own Script Book - And record the questions and answers that you find encourage people to open up and get to the fourth level of truth because when you do the service, you will render will be far in excess of the money you earn.

Questions For - Social gatherings are more casual; business meetings are more focused, network events somewhere in the middle, focus group events very intense and tightly focused.

The Two Most Powerful Questions:

What are your most important criteria in making a purchase decision?

What is the one thing you remembered about your purchase?

Question #1 Most Common Answer - "Price" because for most people it is a conditioned response they learned early in life. It is similar to ringing a bell; it gets people's attention; Stimulus & Response. If you ever get mugged, and I hope you never do; yell "FIRE" because everybody wants to see a fire, but very few people will respond to cry for "HELP."

Question #2 Most Common Answer - "I could or could not get what I wanted!" There is a lot of money making power in this answer, and it does not come fast or easy. In fact, in most cases, it takes a while to get to it...because:

Truth Is Four Levels Deep:

What people want to hear

What people want to believe

Everything else out in the world

The Truth of what they really believe 

Construction Business Owners - With an annual sales volume of less than $5,000,000 if you want to double, triple and quadruple your cash flow and net profit pay attention to this one thing:

Give Your Customer Or Client What They Want Not What You Think Is Best!

If I Had A Dime - For every time a contractor ignored what their customer or client was asking for because they were thinking of what they were going to say, which related to what they thought was best for their customer or client I would buy a brand new sports car to take my girlfriend, wife, sweetheart, Sharie on another sightseeing road trip across America.

Listening - With empathy and understanding is one of the most valuable gifts one person can give to another person is to listen and let someone speak until they are finished. Great speakers who make deep noises from the chest sound like important messages from the brain have a captive audience, and it is 180 degrees opposite of truly listening.

Questioning - When your construction customer or client makes a point about something that could be important wait until an appropriate break in the conversation and ask for clarification. For example, the new deck needs to be really strong...could be an important point...perhaps they entertain a lot of sumo wrestlers or professional football stars...show you care by asking. The preceding examples could save you a lot of money by not under-building something and in fact, could make you a lot of money with add on sales.

Observing - Private detectives make a lot of money, and the best ones have a keen eye for observation. Much can be said about this, and I recommend you read the book "The Millionaire Next Door" by Thomas J. Stanley and William D. Danko.

We Had Several Repeat, And Referring Clients in our Construction Companies and one, in particular, lived in the Magnolia neighborhood of Seattle. A sweet little old lady on a "Fixed Income" that we did a substantial amount of work on her house.

Every Time, Like Clockwork when one of our Plumbing Service Professionals would quote a price for a new project she would almost break down in tears. Her voice would crack, and her face would take on the saddest look you have ever seen while she talked about how she may have to do without something special in order to have the work done. The funny thing is whenever I would see her at a social event I would ask how she was able to survive on a "Fixed Income” of more than $8,000,000 a year. Her response as always, "It is not easy but thank goodness the house and car are paid for, and I have no other debts.”

We Did A Lot Of work - For her and her friends and neighbors in the area and they were all raving fans! Why? Because of Listening, Questioning and Observing and always, always, always giving a little more in value than we took in dollars. The key is always give a fair price that ensures your company will earn a handsome profit and hire professionals to do excellent work.

If You Own A Small - Construction Company, brand new or been in business a while, we have a special consulting offer that you may be interested in...Click Here To Learn More

QuickBooks Needs To Know A Lot Of Things To Produce Reports You Need

How much detail is Too Much or Too Little is a lot like “Goldilocks and the Three Bears.” It all depends on the Contractor involved. Unreasonable to expect bookkeeper to magically know item codes for a job.

My suggestion is that you and all your employees use an electronic time card. 

We recommend T-Sheets. Simple to use, economical, and has a group of reports. One of those reports is a project report. I like this because it is a different view of time spent on the job than from inside QuickBooks. T-sheets imports to multiple payroll services.

Fast Easy Accounting

Your Certified TSheets Consultant

How do you bill out your employees time?

Is it on a “Cost+” where it is their actual pay rate or is it a rate for specific labor types (supervisor, lead, apprentice, labor) regardless of their individual pay rate?   

In T-sheets where I think a Contractor should think in terms of Kitchen, Bath, Master Bedroom, Family Room, Sun Room, Addition, Deck, Patio. Why? Because outside forces cause material prices to go up or down. Job by Job controlling labor and change orders is an achievable goal.

Quick and easy way to see on your phone “Hours On The Job” by the project. This will help determine you labor hours on specific jobs or all labor for the specific time period. Other features are employees clock in via their phone and if they are using a Smart Phone GPS tracking is enabled.  

Realizing you don’t know and want to know more about your business is the first step.

With our QuickBooks Customized Setup (Desktop) and additional built-in reports in QuickBooks will answer many of your questions. After a properly setup QuickBooks file, then it is the question of How Much Detail do you want?

I suggest, starting small with basic job costing reports for all jobs. You can always expand job types.   

Do not try to super detailed job costing for a tiny “in and out” job versus a project that has more time and labor. Job costing takes the effort to get the level of detailed reports a Contractor wants. 

Who does the data entry, bookkeeping, accounting, annual taxes – that is another whole topic.

Looking forward to being of assistance.

Call Me Let’s Chat. 

Sharie 

206-361-3950

sharie@fasteasyaccounting.com

I trust this podcast helps you understand that outsourcing your contractor's bookkeeping services to us is about more than just “doing the bookkeeping”; it is about taking a holistic approach to your entire construction company and helping support you as a contractor and as a person.

We Remove Contractor's Unique Paperwork Frustrations

We understand the good, bad and the ugly about owning and operating construction companies because we have had several of them and we sincerely care about you and your construction company!

That is all I have for now, and if you have listened to this far please do me the honor of commenting and rating podcast www.FastEasyAccounting.com/podcast Tell me what you liked, did not like, tell it as you see it because your feedback is crucial and I thank you in advance.

You Deserve To Be Wealthy Because You Bring Value To Other People's Lives!

I trust this will be of value to you and your feedback is always welcome at www.FastEasyAccounting.com/podcast

This Is One more example of how Fast Easy Accounting is helping construction company owners across the USA including Alaska and Hawaii put more money in the bank to operate and grow your construction company. Construction accounting is not rocket science; it is a lot harder than that, and a lot more valuable to construction contractors like you so stop missing out and call Sharie 206-361-3950 or email sharie@fasteasyaccounting.com

Contractor Bookkeeping Done For You!

Thinking About Outsourcing Your Contractors Bookkeeping Services?

Click On The Link Below:

www.FastEasyAccounting.com/hs

This guide will help you learn what to look for in outsourced construction accounting.

Need Help Now?

Call Sharie 206-361-3950

sharie@fasteasyaccounting.com

  Thank you very much, and I hope you understand we do care about you and all contractors regardless of whether or not you ever hire our services. Bye for now until our next episode here on the Contractors Success MAP Podcast.

Enjoy your day.     Sharie

About The Author:

https://www.fasteasyaccounting.com/free-one-hour-consultation-bookkeeping

Sharie DeHart, QPA is the co-founder of Business Consulting And Accounting in Lynnwood Washington. She is the leading expert in managing outsourced construction bookkeeping and accounting services companies and cash management accounting for small construction companies across the USA. She encourages Contractors and Construction Company Owners to stay current on their tax obligations and offers insights on how to manage the remaining cash flow to operate and grow their construction company sales and profits so they can put more money in the bank. http://www.fasteasyaccounting.com/sharie-dehart/ 206-361-3950 or sharie@fasteasyaccounting.com

Our Workflow Removes Your Paperwork Frustrations

For Contractors Who Prefer

To Do Your Bookkeeping

Fast Easy Accounting Do-It-Yourself Construction Accounting Store Is Open

Most Contractors Setup QuickBooks Desktop Version In One Of Three Ways:

#1 EZ Step Interview inside QuickBooks Setup #2 Asked Their Tax Accountant To Setup QuickBooks #3 They Attended A How To Setup QuickBooks Class Or Seminar

And QuickBooks Does Not Work The Way They Want It Too!

The Answer:

#1 Click Here To Buy An Entire QuickBooks Setup For Your Specific Contracting Company

#2 Click Here To Buy Just The Chart Of Accounts For Your Specific Contracting Company

  Short List Of Construction Contractors We Serve

Asphalt ContractorAsphalt Contractor Brand New ContractorBrand New ContractorBrick And Stone ContractorBrick And Stone ContractorCabinet Installation ContractorCabinet Installation ContractorCarpentry ContractorCarpentry ContractorCarpet And Tile ContractorCarpet And Tile ContractorCommercial Tenant Improvement ContractorCommercial Tenant Improvement ContractorConcrete ContractorConcrete ContractorConstruction EmployeesConstruction EmployeesConstruction ManagerConstruction ManagerConstruction Support SpecialistConstruction Support SpecialistCustom Deck ContractorCustom Deck ContractorCustom Home BuilderCustom Home BuilderDemolition ContractorDemolition ContractorDrywall ContractorDrywall ContractorElectrical ContractorElectrical ContractorEmerging ContractorEmerging ContractorExcavation ContractorExcavation ContractorFinish Millwork ContractorFinish Millwork ContractorFlipper House ContractorFlipper House ContractorFlooring ContractorFlooring ContractorFoundation ContractorFoundation ContractorFraming ContractorFraming ContractorGeneral ContractorGeneral ContractorGlass Installation ContractorGlass Installation ContractorGutter ContractorGutter ContractorHandyman ContractorHandyman ContractorHot Tub ContractorHot Tub ContractorHVAC ContractorHVAC ContractorInsulation ContractorInsulation ContractorInterior Designer ContractorInterior Designer ContractorLand Development ContractorLand Development ContractorLandscape ContractorLandscape ContractorLawn And Yard Maintenance ContractorLawn And Yard Maintenance ContractorMasonry ContractorMasonry ContractorMold Remediation ContractorMold Remediation ContractorMoss Removal ContractorMoss Removal ContractorPainting ContractorPainting ContractorPlaster ContractorPlaster ContractorPlaster And Stucco ContractorPlaster And Stucco ContractorPlumbing ContractorPlumbing ContractorPressure Washing ContractorPressure Washing ContractorRemodel ContractorRemodel ContractorRenovation ContractorRenovation ContractorRestoration ContractorRestoration ContractorRoofing ContractorRoofing ContractorSiding ContractorSiding ContractorSpec Home BuilderSpec Home BuilderSpecialty ContractorSpecialty ContractorStone Mason ContractorStone Mason ContractorStucco ContractorStucco ContractorSubcontractorSubcontractorSwimming Pool ContractorSwimming Pool ContractorSwimming Pool And Hot Tub ContractorSwimming Pool And Hot Tub ContractorTile And Carpet ContractorTile And Carpet ContractorTrade ContractorTrade ContractorTree ContractorTree ContractorUnderground ContractorUnderground ContractorUtility ContractorUtility ContractorWaterproofing ContractorWaterproofing ContractorWindow ContractorWindow Contractor

Additional QuickBooks Templates, Resources, And Services

QuickBooks Set Up TemplatesSolopreneurQuickBooks Chart Of AccountsFree StuffQuickBooks Item Lists TemplatesConsulting

We Serve Over 100 Types Of Contractors So If Your Type Of Company Is Not Listed

Please Do Not Be Concerned Because If You Are A Contractor

There Is A Good Chance We Can Help You!

Call Now: 206-361-3950

  Additional QuickBooks Templates, Resources, And Services

QuickBooks Set Up Templates   Solopreneur

QuickBooks Chart Of Accounts     Free Stuff

QuickBooks Item Lists Templates     Consulting

  We Serve Over 100 Types Of Contractors So If Your Type Of Company Is Not Listed

Please Do Not Be Concerned Because If You Are A Contractor

There Is A Good Chance We Can Help You!

Call Now: 206-361-3950

If you are a blogger, who writes about construction we would like to hear from you.

https://www.fasteasyaccounting.com/guestblogger

                                              Contractors_Success_MAP, Contractors_Success_Marketing_Accounting_Production, Contractor_Bookkeeping_Services, QuickBooks_For_Contractors, QuickBooks_For_Contractors,Contractors_Success_Map_Contractors_Need_These_Key_Reports_To_Operate_And_Grow_Their_Comp

Check out this episode about Contractors Marketing - Accounting - Production (M.A.P.)!