#about a thimble the last time i did

[mamamittens]

So, I've been thinking on Thatch's sad bean hour time and here's a decent one i think

Now, as head cook and commander, Thatch takes his job very seriously. With a crew this large, it's not hard to get lost in the details, which is where his division comes in to help lessen the, at times, overwhelming workload.

Still there are some things that he personally likes keeping an eye on, to the best of his ability.

Allergen safe work areas for particular foods is key among them.

The kitchens are massive, of course, which is the only way he's able to ensure certain foods go no where near particular areas. It took some clever work arounds in some cases, but it works!

Thankfully, meals are rather self serve style, so he usually can relax after prepping and cooking is finished when it comes to cross contamination. His division is well trained, after all, and utterly serious about food health and safety.

So, he's enjoying dinner, sitting beside Izou as they both gossip about interesting, new things that popped up recently in the papers or on board. Visibly pleased when he spots Nikia make her way to the food and wave to get her attention after she gets her plate.

"She's so cute when she does that." Thatch murmurs, referring to the little fluffing her wings do when something abruptly catches her attention. She jogs over and sits across from them in an empty spot, most not wanting to eat directly beside any commander, let alone Ace. Her wing briefly brushing across his back in quiet greeting before she considers her food.

Thatch notes, still quite pleased, that it was pretty healthy fare. Teriyaki chicken and cauliflower rice with raw veggies, a small serving of clear soup, and two cookies as a treat. Healthier than usual, but he was hardly complaining. It was surprising though, that she didn't eat regular rice, considering how much she usually liked it with certain meals.

"Good picks." Thatch said cheerfully, watching as she smeared the sauced chicken over the cauliflower--apparently intending to eat it as she would white rice. "Wanted to try something a little new or have you had it before?" he asked curiously, watching as she scooped up a healthy serving of cauliflower and chicken before eating it.

"What? The rice? It's just small, still white though, isn't it? Or something like that--"

Her face immediately scrunched up as she started choking, confusion clear as she swallowed hard. Face red as she blinked furiously, trying to control her breathing.

"F-Fuck, that was spicy as shit! Where'd that come from?!" Thatch frowned, looking down at the food.

While he knew she had a sensitive palette, nothing on her plate was particularly spicy.

She was wheezing as he stole a bite of chicken and cauliflower rice.

It certainly didn't taste spicy--though he'd apologize for the theft regardless.

"There's no spice besides teriyaki, baby. Just chicken and cauliflower." Thatch mused, focusing on her face again only to realize she was struggling to breath. Lips tinted faintly blue, wings trembling with distress.

"Ah. Get Marco. O-Or epi." Nikia blinked away tears and swallowed with greater difficulty.

Thatch and Izou froze in horror as they realized what was happening for only a moment, but luckily Ace wasn't passed out and quickly reacted.

"Marco! Here!"

He was over in an instant, hand on fire as he gently placed his palm over her throat.

"Right, let's get you to the med bay--this will only hold it, not treat it." Marco advised gently, helping Nikia leave. "Got your inhaler--ah, good! We'll use that after we treat the allergic reaction."

Nikia was in good hands, thankfully.

Thatch, however, was spiraling. It didn't matter what Izou told him, Thatch could only replay the moment in his mind when Nikia ate something she was incredibly allergic to without realizing what it was--

right in front of him.

Nikia, on the other hand, was fine after some medication and ordered to take it easy for the rest of the day. No running, flying, or eating foods she didn't recognize.

She returned to her room and got ready for bed, quite exhausted from the startling event. Settling down for sleep when there was a knock at her door. Confused, she answered, finding Thatch swaying in her doorway.

He was utterly despondent, eyes red, reeking of booze as he whimpered apologies. Arms quick to wrap around her in a tight, drunken embrace.

"Oh, b-baby cakes--'m sorry--I should have kn-known--knew--was right there--" Thatch whined and she was quick to pull him into her room. With difficultly, being mostly blinded by his arms shoving her face into his chest, she steered him to sit on her bed.

"H-Hey, Thatch, it's alright! I'm okay!" she reassured him, rubbing his back as he shook his head and kept mumbling apologies. "I should have realized it wasn't actual rice--cauliflower is like, the literal only thing I know I'm allergic to. And usually it's just spicy but I guess it got worse without me realizing it--ah, beans, that's not helpful is it?" she balked as he started weeping, eyes watery pools as he cupped her face.

"You couldn't breathe, baby. You couldn't breathe because I didn't make sure the food wasn't mixed." Thatch breathed out.

"Hey--look at me--it's not your fault. I'm breathing fine now, see? Everything is alright. It's not your fault. I don't blame you. Feel that? I can breathe just fine now. Because I felt safe eating something new--because you helped make it. And you don't make it weird if I decide not to eat something after trying it. Normally, I would have not eaten it at all--or eaten it while alone." Nikia reassured him gently, sliding one of his hands to her throat.

He froze, fingers pressing into the delicate skin that throbbed with life. Trusted so implicitly with her life, even now, that she openly let him touch her neck. Which he knew she hated. But his palm was there, pressed against the side of her throat as she breathed steadily.

Slowly, Thatch slid his hand further behind her neck. Watching as she didn't even flinch, not even as he used the leverage to pull her into his arms. Lifting her into his lap to hold onto her better, bury his face in her hair. He collapsed against the bed as tears kept falling. Now more from a place of relief than anxiety.

It was his literal worst nightmare as a chef.

Bad enough to trigger her asthma--which she apparently had.

But she still trusted him.

Still let him hold her like this. Shifting only to rest more comfortably on his chest, wings tucking in like the edges of a thick duvet. Feathers brushing against him gently as she rubbed the sides of his ribs in comforting motions.

Izou found them sometime later, sighing as his voice crept out from the doorway.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I can take him to bed now." Izou offered.

"It's alright." Her voice vibrated against his chest as one wing lifted up. "He was scared. Scared me too, today. You can join if you turn off the light." she offered.

There was a moment of hesitation and the room was cast into silken darkness. His body gently shoved further up the bed by firm hands until a familiar body slipped in beside him.

"Ki?"

"...yeah, 'Zo?"

"I'm glad you're okay... please don't do that again, though." Izou asked softly.

"Don't plan on it." she snorted before settling back down.

From that day forward, Thatch carried a little case with emergency epipens on his person at all times. And it was a while before he stopped hovering over Nikia when she got food, quietly listing out the food she considered and major ingredients. Just in case, Thatch gently steered her away from anything closely related to cauliflower, such as brussel sprouts and cabbage.

When he gets to be a little too much, Nikia gently lifts up his hand and places it on her neck. A silent reminder that makes Thatch's stomach flip with a mix of emotions.

He just never wants to see her like that again.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

They Unknowingly Bring Up and Insecurity| Seungmin Pt2

Pt1 Pt3

Seungmin sat in the living room with the guys while you were in the kitchen with Lee Know preparing something for your guy's weekly hangout. You all decided on playing monopoly together, with you and Seungmin partnering up.

Bangchan carefully set up the board while Felix was handing out the money.

"Seungmin hyung." Jeongin asked as he handed his elder the thimble to him.

"Is Y/N okay? She's been really quiet. She won't even talk to me." Jeongin's face was droopy as he stuck his lip out. "I was wondering if she was upset about something?"

Seungmin took a breath and spoke quietly. His voice soft and rather sad.

"I think I said something that hurt her feelings really bad." His voice was starting to wobble a bit, and that told Jeongin all he needed to know.

"Did you say sorry?"

Seungmin nodded and his cheeks puffed out slightly as he pouted. "She said she was okay but I don't believe her."

Jeongin grabbed the hat and messed with it. "Well, what did you say to her?" He inquired.

Seungmin pulled out his phone and scrolled up to his texts with you. Which it didn't take long for him to scroll up because you hadn't been texting him as often. He only heard from you for important or urgent things, and he was missing the little random blurbs of somewhat unnecessary - but entirely endearing - information about what you were doing.

He handed his phone to Jeongin and the maknae quickly read it through.

"Hyung, you know why Y/N and her last boyfriend broke up right...?"

Seungmin shook his head and Jeongin opened his mouth to speak but you walked in with Minho with a tray of snacks.

"Did Minho teach you how to make something new?" Chan asked you. Seungmin could tell the rest of the guys had picked up on your odd silence, but you nodded.

"Kinda...he taught me how to set a charcuterie board. It's pretty."

You set it down and Jisung immediately went to go grab something.

"MMM Y/N THIS IS SO GOOD!!" He popped a piece of cheese into his mouth and his cheeks puffed up. "You need to teach me now!!"

The effort Jisung had given to get you to respond was in vain.

"Jiji, I just grabbed the cheese from a package..."

The wide eyed quokka boy scratched his neck. "Oh um. Its still good though."

Throughout the first thirty minutes of you guys playing, minimal conversation was made and Seungmin was feeling antsy.

He missed your voice.

When you stood up to go to the bathroom and go restock the snack supply all the guys turned to you.

"Seungmin apologize. I miss my baby girl..." Jisung whined.

Seungmin deadpanned and Jisung frowned. "What she was my baby girl before she became your baby girl..."

"I don't know how I'm supposed to fix it! I don't know what I did wrong really..."

"Hyung, her boyfriend broke up with her because of her tendency to overshare...and you know...talk a lot."

Seungmin's puppy eyes narrowed as his eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"It was a stupid reason to break up really. She only told me because one time she was feeling insecure when we were hanging out and some lady told me that 'my girlfriend talked a lot'; which I told her that I wasn't dating her but also that it didn't matter because I talk a lot too." Jeongin frowned.

Seungmin blinked a few times and bit his bottom lip.

"I don't think she's upset at you Seungmin..." Changbin spoke. "From what I see it seems like she's trying not to be a burden."

"Burden?"

"She doesn't want you to break up with her so she's trying to change that aspect about herself. You're naturally a quiet person and she probably thinks she's too much for you and that you'll get tired of it."

Seungmin shook his head. "No! I could never get tired of Y/N-ie!"

Chan chuckled. "You guys really are perfect for each other." He says, marveling in his work. "But...tone doesn't translate over text."

"And you're a sarcastic motherfucker." Minho adds.

Hyunjin stretches across the floor. "You can say that again."

Jisung huffs. "Well go on and apologize! Because I want my gossip buddy back! She never finished telling me about the drama on her mom's side of the family! I was invested in which side piece got her cousin pregnant!"

Hyunjin shoots up, sniffing the drama. "Ya! Seungmin fix it! I want to know now too!"

Seungmin looked down at the board as he contemplated just how he could fix this.

Because sometimes words weren't the cure.

But actions were.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sorry for the short work 🫠. But in all the drafts of my 3 part angst series (oops theres more?) the 2nd part tends to be shorter since its the down hill of the plot.

[itsa-me-lily]

God I love this au, it's feeding me so good today. The last one with the part about only one bedroom has me thinking about a sick reader, the gross kind of sick where you're sweaty and wheezy and snotty, and the fact that if it were anyone else Simon would be quarantining them. But because it's his spouse, he wakes up to you nasally wheezing and mouth breathing while sprawled across him, and all he can think about is when you're due for your next round of medicine and if he needs to buy more tissues.

Sometimes love comes coated in mucus, and is reciprocated with an artificial cherry taste. Also do the guinea pigs have names and what do they look like?

I'm dying. This is the first ever ask I've ever gotten (that I recall) and I'm going to pass away. Also "sometimes love comes coated in mucus, and is reciprocated with an artificial cherry taste" that is such a good line, I'm apologizing in advance if I steal it.

Also warning for content of being sick, this is based off my last bout of plague.

Also Also Here's the Simon & Thimble playlist

Also Also Also Here's the Military Program Spouse AU masterlist

Bedsharing in general does not happen at first. (Now I want to percolate an idea about sharing the bed for the first time). You're way to use to having your own bed that sharing with someone means you're not sleeping easily and I think Simon would rather sleep with the guinea pigs in their cage than have another human being that close to him when he sleeps. (This was also not something he initially thought about when being told a spouse was to be picked)

So what's the solution? Obviously bunk beds! Kind of, sorta...okay not really but the look on Simon's face when you had suggested getting bunk beds had been entertaining. Who knew so much indignation could come through a medical mask. Really his eyebrows did so much talking.

With the dream of bunkbeds dashed, the next best solution was either two twin beds crammed into the bedroom with a bedside's worth of space between them, or a pull out couch. You managed to find a couch same day that didn't terribly clash with the artwork you have yet to hang up.

You two actually manage to come up with a schedule for who slept where. Obviously you'd get the bed when Simon was deployed, made no sense for you not to. And when he was home the bed was all his unless he was having a night that he knew he wasn't going to trust a deadbolt to keep monsters at bay. Then he made himself comfortable, TV playing low until he managed a few hours in the early morning before you try to leave a silently as you can for work.

(Funny thing, even if you aren't sharing a bed traditionally, you both most certainly have your own sides, along with bed stands that told two different stories)

The first time you get sick is when Simon is technically deployed. Well actually, the day he returns is the day you spike a 101.8 fever and work forces you to go home so you don't become a walking petri dish and expose the college kids that come into your office.

Once you're home you appease the little beasts demanding some sort of vegetal boon, change into the rattiest clothes you have, and then huddle under a staggering amount of blankets that have made their home on your bed. (Simon may have side eyed them when you first set them out, but you've seen the mountain he creates under them, you knew the magic of weighted blankets)

Sleep isn't peaceful, you hadn't broken out the Nyquil quite yet, but you do manage to drift off for a few hours. And then the coughing starts. It's the kind that's a bitch to deal with, dry and pushing your ribs to the limit with how often they can expand and contract. By the time Simon comes home you've steamed yourself twice, taken only a smidge over the recommended amount of cough suppressant, and slathered yourself with Vic's Vaporub. All in all, you were properly miserable.

You're in the kitchen, staring into the abyss of your over-steeping tea as if it will magically make you feel better if you only sell your soul to it, really a tempting offer, when the wheeks of the pigs announce that another person they know has arrived.

If Simon wasn't clued in that something was off at seeing you home before the end of your work day, the pungent smell of menthol would have been a dead give away. You're still communing with your tea when he knocks against the wall, pulling you out of the deal for your soul to meet him with bleary eyes and a flushed face.

You croak out a greeting that makes Simon wince in sympathy, though that's about all he really does. Simon doesn't really do pleasantries and doting probably wouldn't be the first word people use to describe him, so with your brain function reduced by an overflow of mucus and fever, the kitchen was rather silent.

Until you started coughing, face buried into the crook of your elbow to try to keep your contagion to a minimum and back bowing to nearly double you over. That drives Simon to action, coming to try to keep you up incase you collapse, grabbing your free arm.

When you feel him touch you, you try to pull away, shaking your head and finally finishing your bout, gasping a little as you try to daunting task of breathing and speaking to dissuade him from getting close lest he catches what you have. He clearly wasn't persuaded, hands clenching and unclenching like he simply wanted to pick you up and put you...somewhere.

How exactly Simon Riley would take care of you, he didn't know but he'd be damned sure to at least try. He'd been left to fend for himself while sick before and he didn't like the idea of you going through that. When it was clear that he wasn't going to just leave you to your suffering you relented enough to try to reach a compromise; if he'd be alright watching the pigs while you were sick that would be more useful than a nursemaid while you camped out on the couch.

That...that was something Simon could do. He'd watched how you took care of the boys, surely this was something he could do. And then his brain caught up to the rest of what you had said. There was no way he was going to let you sleep on some pull out couch, as nice as it was. Being Sick meant sleeping in a proper bed, on a mattress that didn't spend it's days folded up.

You tried to insist it was alright but he wouldn't listen to a word of it. Instead he practically herded you back to the bedroom, ignoring your murmurs of your abandoned hot beverage. He didn't lift you to plop you onto the bed itself but it was a near thing. He had to bribe you with the promise of a proper cup of tea for you to even lay your head on your pillow, eyes already heavy with the need for sleep. By the time he had actually made a cup you were out for the count, nasally mucus filled snores letting him know you hadn't perished in the time it took him.

The next few days were filled with mucus, the attempted escape of your lungs via coughing fits, and more Vics than the human body should be exposed to. And the entire time you insisted that you could fend for yourself. Simon didn't push to play nurse, but your tissues never ran out, a dose of medication was always ready on your bedside, and a warm cup of tea stood waiting for you after each nap, like a solider committed to his guard.

Edit;

I'm going to make a separate post for the guinea pigs, because honestly I'm torn on if they're based on my guinea pigs I used to have, or guinea pigs I'd want to have in the future

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 14

Hey guys! Welcome back! So this chapter is getting a little heavy on the angsty side, so just a heads up.

Things have been going great for all the stories especially the Christmas one.

This will be the story that keeps its usual schedule next week. Every other posting day will be finishing up the Olympic Swimmer one. So be on the look out for that.

Also super long chapter!

Steve tries out some hobbies, Joyce pushes, and Steve gets depressed.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

~

Steve would like to say he got right on the job search the next day, but he really didn’t. He woke up refreshed and feeling good about himself. After a run on the treadmill and big breakfast he had already talked himself out needing to.

But instead he decided that he wanted to learn new hobbies. He had the money and pretty much unlimited time so why not?

The first thing he tried felting. Yeah, he had a lot of money, but he wanted to start with something cheap in case he got bored with it.

Taking the kit out of the box, he already ran into a problem. The leather finger gloves were much too small. Like he didn’t have fat fingers or anything but they were much too tight to fit on even his pinkie fingers he turned them inside out to see if he could make them bigger somehow.

He only succeeded in ruining the finger gloves. He tried rubber thimbles as replacements but still the sharp tool would pierce even the tough rubber.

The kit sat abandoned in a corner of his hotel room until one of the porters saw it and asked if he could have it. His sister did the felting all the time and she was having trouble finding colors she liked.

So Steve let him have it. Three days later the porter came back with a bright yellow canary and a female robin. He proudly displayed them on his nightstand next to the phone and alarm clock.

Robin loved them, but refused to take the robin. She said they shouldn’t be separated at any price.

Steve loved her a little bit more when she said that.

The next thing he tried was painting.

That lasted all of six hours before they got handed off to Will. It was a beautiful oil, acrylic, and water color set, with all the paint brushes and pallet and metal wood-handled pallet knives.

It lasted that long was because that was the time it took for Steve to set everything up, including an old sheet Rosa let him have, start painting and promptly knock everything over. The water, the paints, the easel. Everything. He broke the easel, knocked a hole in the canvas, and smeared paint all over the apron he had bought just for the occasion.

Will was happy to receive the paints, but in turn he gave Steve a simple notepad and pencil and taught him how to draw.

Steve liked that.

It was just for doodling and making silly pictures so it didn’t make him feel like a failure. He went to the bookstore and bought a bunch of books on how to draw certain things. Animals, the human figure. He even found this great reference book on clothes sorted based on the English monarch who was in power at the time the were wore.

Which was all well and good, but it wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

One day while he was over at Will’s talking art and whether or not kneaded erasers were worth the pain they caused if you dropped, Ellie introduced him to a new hobby. Will was against the things, Steve was for.

Jonathan huffed, “That’s probably a class issue as Steve here can afford to replace them and Will can’t.”

Steve and Will stared at each other in complete shock, but had to admit that Jonathan was probably right.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve huffed, “that’s fair. I guess I really didn’t think about it because it’s not my money I’m spending.”

“Have you tried looking for a job?” Joyce asked. She didn’t like that someone was paying to keep Steve safe. As nice as it was, in her experience the well tended to dry up when you least expected it to.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mrs. Byers.” Which he had. Yes, he had been focused on trying to learn things that would keep his mind from atrophying, he had also been looking. “If they seen me coming they take down the sign or if they don’t get to it in time, they say it’s an old sign and that they forgot to take it down.”

Joyce’s shoulders slumped in sympathy. The rumor around town is that because Mr. Harrington was the landlord for a lot of the properties that the businesses were on, he had threatened to raise their rent if they gave Steve a job.

Something that all the adults promised not to tell Steve so that he wouldn’t get so discouraged as to not try at all.

But surely Clint Harrington didn’t own every business in Hawkins and she told Steve so.

“No,” Steve huffed. “But he’s friends with ones that he doesn’t. I’m going to try the mall next. Most of the them are franchises and have their main bosses outside of Hawkins.”

She let out a little sigh of relief. It showed that Steve was trying and actively thinking of these types of pitfalls.

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “What have you got there, Ellie?” he asked trying to shift the focus off of him for a moment.

Joyce was watching Ellie while Hopper was at work.

The young girl held up long satin strings of embroidery thread. She had three shades of pink, a white, and a red. She tied the ends to a safety pin that was pinned her leg.

“I’m making friendship bracelets for me and Max,” Ellie said proudly. “The pink is for me, and then I have these colors for her!” She held up blues and purples.

“That’s way cool!” Steve said scooting over to sit next to her.

Jonathan and Will shared a smile. Steve was lost to the shiny allure of friendship bracelets.

“I could teach you if you like,” she said with a smile. “I also have boondoggle!” She held up shiny plastic strips. “I make key chains and other things that need to last a lot longer than the thread.”

Steve really lit up, but then frowned when he saw out intricate it all was. “I’ll never be do anything that fancy.”

Ellie sat closer and pulled out a little paper that she had in her caboodle. “I couldn’t at first either, so I went to the library and took out a book on all the different ways you could plait and how to do boondoggle. Then I copied a couple of the pages I wanted to try.”

She handed it to him and pointed to the easiest. “That’s the one I started with and it will probably take a little bit to get the spacing right.”

Steve tilted his head. “Is this like braiding hair?”

“Yes!” Ellie said excitedly. “That’s right. I forgot you braid Max’s hair all the time. So then it will be easy for you.”

Soon they were off in their own little world.

Joyce watched with her arms crossed and a concerned expression. Jonathan spotted her and shook his head. He stood up and went to stand next to her.

“You’ve got to let it go, Mom,” he said gently. “You aren’t his mom and even if you were, he’s still an adult. As near as anyone of can tell, whoever is footing this bill isn’t in it to exploit Steve, just making sure he’s taken care of.”

Joyce breathed out through her nose as she tried not to snap at her son. She didn’t know that as a fact and Hopper’s reassurances weren’t enough. She hated having to take his word that whoever this was wouldn’t harm Steve. And that galled.

“It’s all the expensive gifts,” she tried to explain. “The car, the unlimited credit card, cash drops weekly, the gold necklace, the hotel. It’s just not right, it’s not decent.”

Jonathan shook his head. “What about all the non-expensive gifts? Things this benefactor thought Steve would like or get a kick out of? Like that little canary with top hat that he keeps on his dashboard? Or all the music tapes they send, thinking Steve might want to try something different. Hell, according to Steve until they left the country, they talked once or twice a day. That doesn’t sound like someone out to hurt him.”

She let out a shuddering sigh. Because Jonathan was right, that didn’t sound like someone trying to use Steve. “I know.”

Jonathan patted on her shoulder and then went into his room, probably to call Nancy. Another person like his mom who worried Steve was being taken advantage of. But even if he was, that was a lesson he was going to have to learn the hard way.

On his own.

Will had long since left to go hang out with Mike while Ellie and Steve made friendship bracelets. He made four. A black, red, and dark grey one for Eddie, a red, a brown, and a light grey one for Robin and two yellow, white, and black ones. So he could one each to Eddie and Robin.

“Those are really pretty, Steve,” Ellie congratulated him. “Those are some interesting color choices.” Spoken as though she was silently judging, but too polite to say so.

He blushed and held up the first one. “This is for my special friend, they are his favorite colors.” Then he held up the second. “And this is for Robin. The colors remind me of a female robin and the last two represent who I am now.”

Ellie blinked for a moment as she took in the information. “I can see that now. Thank you for explaining it to me.”

“I get my thread at Melvand’s,” she said serenely, “if you wanted to continue to make more, that’s where you would go to get your own.”

Steve kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Ellie.”

He didn’t stay much longer than that, now that both of the other boys were gone, Joyce was keeping too close an eye on him with Ellie. He knew it wasn’t the gay thing as she didn’t mind Will being around her. And it wasn’t being a barely legal adult considering she would gladly leave Jonathan to look over her.

Nope.

It was entirely because she didn’t know who Steve’s mysterious benefactor was. And the thought of this unknown, probably male, person might hear about Ellie later? Yeah, that’s where she drew her invisible line.

Which was bullshit, like with Robin’s mom, Eddie wasn’t going to prey on little girls. He was freaking out about Steve might be underage when they met in the club. But it wasn’t like he could tell Joyce that. She might revoke his time with Will and Ellie if she learned he had been underaged drinking that night. The night Eddie saved him.

Steve went up to his hotel room and flopped face first into his bed. He was tired. Tired of all the questions about finding a job and getting out from under Eddie’s thumb. Like Eddie was financially abusing him or whatever.

He just wanted to bring people to his hotel room and show them all the little things Eddie sent him just because he walked into a gas station and saw something cute he thought he would like. The keychain from Kansas City with his name on it. The bright yellow shirt that said “I don’t take no shit” and had the Iowan state bird of the American goldfinch. That one came with a little note explaining that it was a canary, but the black on the wings reminded Eddie of the deliciously tight black leather pants.

Steve blushed for hours after that one.

He wiggled onto the bed and crawled under the covers without having taken off any of his clothes. Maybe he could hibernate until Eddie got back in America.

~

Steve managed to bury himself under the covers before the porter with the felting sister ripped the blanket off from over his head.

He stared blearily up at the porter. “Martin?” He struggled to sit up, but flopped back down on the pillow in distress. “Just leave me alone.”

“It’s Marty actually,” the porter huffed. “The only people that call me Martin are my boss and my mom. You’re not either.”

“Marty, I just want to go back to sleep.”

Marty pulled the rest of the blankets and yanked Steve off the bed. He went with a startled yelp. He leapt to his feet to fight him, but he saw that Bob and Rosa were standing by his bed with looks of concern on their faces.

“I have the shower running,” Bob said, “you will get in there and at least clean off the sweat you reek of. Then Rosa will change the sheets. Marty will bring up some food while you are showering, then the three of us are staging an intervention, because this isn’t like you!”

Steve opened his mouth to refute that statement, probably something about how no one called the whole time he as sulking.

Bob pulled out a stack of messages. “I have thirteen messages, and that’s only because the answering machine is full.”

Steve looked behind him and sure enough the machine was blinking complete with a full tape.

“Oh.”

He meekly went and did as he was told. He was only going to do a perfunctory wipe down because they were waiting for him, but once he got under the water it felt so good that he began to thoroughly scrub himself down. Normally going without a shower for a couple of days really didn’t do much, but because he had barely moved to pee, he was covered in thin layer of sweat.

He washed his hair and got out of the shower. He dried himself off and put on the long robe Eddie had gotten him. He opened the door and was instantly hit with enticing aroma of chicken noodle soup. He moved out of the bathroom to the main room, lured by the scent of real food.

The sofa was full of the hotel employees so he grabbed his bowl of soup and spoon and sat down on the armchair curled up as small as he could make himself.

“You frightened us, mi corazón,” Rosa huffed. “You weren’t answering your phone, you weren’t ordering food. The only way we could tell you moved at all is that occasionally the cup in the bathroom would be wet or you would be on the other side of the bed.”

Bob nodded. “We were told to look after you, money was no object. That’s what we were told, but you turned out to be kind and generous and frankly better than ninety percent of the patrons here. You treat us like we’re human, so it became our pleasure to serve you. So when you weren’t opening your door to anyone or answering your calls, we knew something was wrong.”

“Sorry,” Steve muttered into his bowl. “I just got so tired of everyone trying to find out who is bankrolling my life style and telling me to get a job that I just didn’t want to deal with it anymore.”

“It’s none of their business,” Rosa huffed. “They’re just jealous that they don’t have this life. I know your papa wants to hurt and all this for you protection, but it seems to me your friends just see the money you...” she snapped her fingers. “What’s the word?”

“I’d use ‘splash around’,” Steve said with a shrug.

“Ehhh,” she knew it wasn’t the word she was looking for but it would have to do. “They see the good. Not the bad. They see new car, but they weren’t there to see you give up your old car. They see the fancy hobbies, but they don’t see your big room and no one to fill it with.”

“She’s right,” Marty said. “I don’t think even the girl that comes with your gifts from Eddie Munson quite understands the crippling loneliness and isolation you have to be feeling right now.”

Steve sniffled into his soup. “Thanks, guys. I don’t know how to impress upon them how dangerous this all is for me. Like the only ones that remotely understand are the Hendersons and that’s because my dad showed up on their doorstep. But even then I don’t think Dustin quite grasps the enormity of it all, but then he’s thirteen so...”

“The only reason your father hasn’t penetrated hotel security,” Bob said with a grimace, “is that the owner, Dr. Sam Owens hates business men like your father. Otherwise, his hold over this town would have extended to here, no doubt about that.”

“So this is what’s going to happen,” Marty said, “if you need to sneak out and just go for a drive to get out of your head, call Bob and he’ll arrange it. If you need someone to talk to ring up Rose or myself. We’re here for you. We understand that Mr. Munson is out of the country right now and it makes it harder, but we’ve got you, okay?”

Steve nodded and said weakly, “Okay!”

~

Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts

[rindragon-from-twewy]

Swap au character intros part 4!!!

Spoilers for specifically Raincode Chapter 0 ahead!

Let's start with Zilch! In this au his forte becomes Audial Aptitude - thanks in part to his animal ears. If you've seen my art of Zilch before, you'll probably have noticed I like drawing him with his animal ears as his actual ears and not on top of his hat. It's cuz I generally just hate the ambiguity of it. Are the animal ears real? Are they just on his hat? Why do they move? Why does he have 4 ears? So I just like making his animal ears his only set of ears. That being said, apparently they're fox ears??? I always assumed wolf??? But I digress- His uniform has been changed up to be reminiscent of an orchestra conductor cuz hahah audio. His face tattoos are meant to be those spotify code scanners - the right cheek leading to It's All So Incredibly Loud by Glass Animals and We Own The Night by Chandler Kinney on the left (cuz I think it's funny!) As for his last name change, "Allegro" in musical terms means "to be played very quickly" which I thought would suit him quite well as someone who can solve cases really fast. His personality is basically the same, the only alteration being that he carries around a notepad and pen in order to help keep track of all the hundreds of things he's constantly hearing all the time.

Next is Pucci. She's received Spectal Projection from Melami and if you thought being good at hearing made her existential then BOY HOWDY does being able to use her body as a vessel for spirits fuck her up even more! Originally I was going for a classic "fortune teller" look for her but I instead went with a cute seamstress-y sort of look instead cuz I couldn't really get what I had in mind initially to look good. She wears a tape measure like a scarf and a thimble as a necklace charm. Her eyes, while cute, have a sort of dead look in them that make others wonder if she's even alive at all. Her last name has been changed from Lavmin to Lavender because in flower language, they're representive of purity, serenity, grace and calmness - all traits she seems to exhibit until she actually starts talking and you realise she's just sort of awkward and shy. She finds it easier to talk to ghosts/spirits then living creatures and honestly probably gets along reeeaaally well with this AU's version of Vivia.

Now, you may be looking at Aphex and going "Rindude! You changed fuck all about him!" And yeah, you're right... The only major changes I made was switching out his coat, boots and like doubling his muscle mass. He's strong. He could beat you up, no questions asked and it definitely shows! His forte is now Thoughtography but he's just as angry as ever - originating from the "front lines" that canon Zange mentioned in his own backstory. For that reason, his coat is inspired by WW2 trenchcoats and while my art doesn't show it very well, everything he's wearing looks and smells like he's crawled straight out of a dumpster. Originally I was going to change his last name to Harkness as an homage to Captain Jack Harkness, a WW2 soldier inspired character from (surprise, surprise) Doctor Who but considering the fact I did that exact same thing with an oc of mine for my A levels earlier this year... I instead went with Tyler; an homage to another Doctor Who character called Rose Tyler who is also a badass blonde <3

And that's all the details I'm sharing for now! It's a little strange considering I've written the Storm Cypher fanfic about half way through its chapter 0 already so I have a lot more to say about the train gang then I did anyone else - since they've already had stuff actually written for them. Melami and Zange's swap au designs will drop like... as soon as I figure out how to draw elderly people. So soon, hopefully! But yeah, I'm cooking super good atm I just can't really share much due to the nature of writing lol. I've been loving getting asks about it though! Deadass, it makes me kick my legs and giggle to know people are crazy enough to care about this AU- >w<

[lulublack90]

Prompt 8 - Trophy Room

@wolfstarmicrofic November 8, word count 557

Previous part First part

The door slammed shut behind them and faded from view. Sirius didn’t like this one bit. 

The room they had walked into was full of trophies. Some were tiny things no bigger than thimbles, others were nearly as tall as Sirius himself and they were everywhere. Every surface, including the floor, had a trophy, some were even suspended from the ceiling on strings. At the far end of the room lay another door. 

“Well, I guess we should try the door?” Sirius said, raising a brow at Remus. The Grim offered a rumbling growl from his chest, and they walked towards the door. 

Sirius managed to get about halfway across, dipping and weaving around the trophies, not wanting to knock any over and risk breaking them. He’d just walked past a particularly pointy one, first place for fencing, when the sound of metal hitting stone rang out. Deafening in the silence of the room.  

The trophy bounced a few times, ringing out as it did, before coming to a stop. Remus had retreated from the sound after his tail had flicked and knocked it over. “Try to be more careful, my love, we don’t…” But whatever he’d been about to say, died in his throat as the trophy on the floor trembled and split into two. “Remus come away,” 

The trophies trembled again, and both spilt into another. “That can’t be good,” Sirius muttered. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

One of the trophies hit a spindly displace and knocked more trophies on the floor, instantly splitting, each faster than the last. “Run, Remus!” Sirius urged as the trophies began to pile up. 

They ran as fast as they could but were soon swept up in the wave of bronze, silver and gold. “Remus!” Sirius called out, losing sight of the massive black dog. “Remus!” He heard a yelp below the sea of trophies and pushed through them the best he could, his hand brushing against something warm and soft. He lifted Remus’s head above the trophies and led him towards the far end of the Trophy Room. 

Their progress slowed as they battled against the onslaught. Sirius dared to glance behind and wished he hadn’t, as the multiplying trophies had reached the ceiling and were knocking over more and more. The door was slowly being buried by the blasted things. 

Suddenly, Sirius and Remus were being forced forward, the wall of awards had caught up to them. Sirius’s eyes widened in horror as he realised what was about to happen. They were about to be crushed into the wall by tons of metal. 

He shoved Remus over as far as he could, lining him up for the door. “Trust me,” He shouted over the cacophony of banging and ringing. Remus couldn’t talk, but he could have sworn he heard Remus’s voice say ‘Always,’ inside his head. 

Sirius pulled himself so he was in front of Remus. They were feet away from the far wall now. He reached out and grabbed the doorknob, twisting it until the door gateway, and they tumbled through, the door slamming shut behind them and vanishing into the stonework. Sirius let his head flop back onto the floor as he let out a long breath of relief. They’d done it. 

“Ahem!” A voice behind them coughed, and Sirius groaned. What now?

Next part

[anyroads]

Every so often I come on here to shamelessly plug my Etsy store where I make leather thimbles out of reclaimed offcuts, but today I don't have to because Bernadette Banner apparently did it?? 

Listen. Listen listen listen. I've been making these thimbles for a few years now and every time I think, oh maybe this will end up in someone's sewing bag, maybe it'll be their little sewing friend, or knitting friend, or whatever they use it for, and I will have gotten to make something that means a lot to someone. But I never know! They go out into the world and that's the last I hear of them. So to hear that someone cherishes them?? is so moving. You have no idea. And that it's Bernadette, who's such a brilliant needle maven??? I can't. Shh. I'm not crying, you're crying. 

Anyway, I'm beyond excited. If you want one, I'm linking my store below. I just restocked so I'm about to add a couple new colors, including a gorgeous hunter green that I'm doing my best not to keep all for myself.

[thehaberdasheress]

This week we did the first two live markets of the year!

To be honest, the net profit was -$10 at one and positive $55 at another, but while I wish they made more, I don't just do these for the money.

It was great and chaotic and a huge learning experience, figuring out how to visually present all our products and demonstrate them to people.

Every market, I get more information on what works and what doesn't. Last week I spent time in the woodshop making different display elements, like a turntable to put all my embroidery patterns on, and now I've learned I need to change one of the base plates to make it turn smoothly. The signs and packaging that I made were way too small for people to easily make out from a normal standing distance—I'm way too used to working with photography that captures all the details, not thinking about how it gets viewed from 20 feet back.

Also, I'm working on building up stock of sewing supplies! In three categories:

Premade tools, unadulterated (buttonhole gauges, thimbles, scissors, etc)

Convenient package sizes I've made of tools and materials (thread wax buttons, bobbins of thread made from natural fibers and/or dyed using pre-modern techniques, sewing kits, etc)

Custom kits for common projects, like an embroidered belt purse or a blackworked renaissance shirt, with materials and detailed step-by-step instructions

When will any of these be up on Etsy? I wish I could tell you. My bank gave me a wee bit of funding so I could afford to hire a part-time online marketing assistant, but unfortunately she's been having some health issues lately. Hopefully she gets better soon, but until then, I can't give you an ETA.

[carolinahope]

8x02 When the Boeing Gets Tough...

This was a really great episode. It was probable, if not realistic. It was fun. And also touching. Had great pacing and cool effects. With Captain Jerk and Thimble gone, everything is suddenly more enjoyable.

When the focus turns on the police is when the show is at its weakest. I really hated Dennis Jenkins talking about refusing the early release. I understand that he killed Athena's fiancé but the narrative is treating him as though he was worse than Dahmer and Bundy combined. Athena's eulogy felt really ingenuine, especially given her repeated overboard behaviour. But the last call for Emmett did make me tear up.

I have to say I enjoyed the way they treated the airplane emergency. That it was acknowledged how crazy it sounded for Athena to fly the plane. The little plane enthusiast was a little convenient. But it is a story and it made for a good one. Especially the scenes with his dad.

I like how they involved the 118 and showed how competent they all are. And how the people on the plane came together as well. Those are always some of the best scenes on the show. I liked the older couple, especially. And the young woman with the dog was really great.

And poor Buck. Feeling so guilty. And the rest of them just celebrating the peace and quiet.

Now we know why Buck was running the other way. And it makes so much sense. And I loved Bobby just commandeering the prop engine and being exasperated with Brad but not having time to deal with him.

We really need more scenes of Bobby and Buck being a father and son. After all the verbal acknowledgments - from May, Athena, Bobby, Buck, it's time to get to the show part of this show and tell.

I'm really curious about the next part. Because for being the middle of a three-part arc, this one more than held it's own.

[kay-elle-cee]

@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 11 || 828 Words || Read on Ao3 —

Unlike most days, Lily’s awakened not by the light filtering through the gap in her curtains, but the smell of bacon. In fact, as she blinks and takes in the ceiling above her, she realizes there’s barely any light in the room at all, though the sounds on the street below indicate that it’s definitely a time of day when people are out and about.

She stretches lazily, blinking a few more times to adjust to the darkness, and is hit with the sudden realization—

This isn’t her room. 

She shoots straight up in the bed, a small squeak escaping as the covers fall to her waist and she realizes she’s completely exposed in this strange room. Footsteps outside the door announce someone’s approach and she scrambles to pull the covers up to her chest, mind racing through the haze of pulsating music, flashing lights, and alcohol.

The door opens quietly, and she sees the head of a man pop through—wild, black curls falling across the top of square-framed glasses, a curious look on his face that gives way to a small smile.

Oh. She remembers him. 

Through the haze of the night cuts certain sensations: warm hands running gently across the skin of her back, the taste of cinnamon and whisky against soft lips and an exploring tongue, the way desire had pooled hot and tight in her abdomen as lips and teeth trailed up the inside of her thighs with a teasingly rough—

“Hi,” he says, moving through the door slowly, and Lily can spot the culprit of the wake-up aroma. In his hands (his warm, gentle hands) is a tray with a few rashers of bacon, toast, a small bowl of porridge, and black tea with a little thimble of milk next to it.

“Hi,” Lily breathes, brows furrowing as she takes all of this in and pulls her mind from the memories of last night. “What’s all of this?”

The man places the tray beside her, still taking care to stand, and she’s floored to see his smile take on a decidedly bashful quality as his now free hand runs through his black curls (oh yeah, she remembers that too.) “Sorry if it’s a bit overkill, I don’t really know what you like.” A pause. “I don’t really know you at all.”

Lily’s eyes travel down to the food beside her and back up. It’s so…nice. Something has to be amiss. “Are you about to tell me we didn’t use a condom or something?”

His face reddens and he chokes on something between mortification and a laugh before regaining his senses. “No! No, absolutely—of course not—I mean of course we did—I just…” he trails off, pursing his lips as he looks around the room, undoubtedly searching for the words to say what he needs to say. 

Satisfied enough during his silence, Lily’s grip on the quilt tightens with one hand as she reaches for a piece of toast, eyes on him as she waits.

He sighs and his gaze meets hers once more. “I don’t…well…fuck…” he rubs his forehead. “I don’t remember your name and I feel like an absolute dick about it.”

Lily blinks before throwing her head back in a laugh. When she looks at him again, she notices the tension in his shoulders has eased and he’s lost some of the utter mortification from his face.

“So you made me breakfast in bed to apologize?”

A flush crawls up his neck and Lily’s eyes are drawn to a darker spot just below his ear that is undoubtedly her handiwork—oops. “I mean it’s also, you know, polite. But I was feeling awful about it the whole time.”

She takes a bite of the toast. “You know, most guys wouldn’t put in half this effort whether they remembered my name or not.”

“Well those guys are knobs,” the man replies with a furrow in his brow. Lily hums in agreement, setting the toast down and reaching for the mug of tea.

“I might be a bit of a knob as well,” she confesses, hiding her smile behind the rim of the mug, “because I’ve forgotten your name, too.”

He sinks down on the very corner of the bed (his bed, Lily thinks), a sigh of relief rushing out of his lungs as a mischievous smile tugs at his lips. “And you waited this long to tell me?”

Lily grins back, shrugging before tucking the quilt under her tea-holding arm to keep the modesty cover in place (though he’s seen it all) and extending the empty hand to him.

“Lily Evans. Pleasure to re-meet you.”

“James Potter,” he states as he takes her hand, and the electricity of his touch shoots straight up her arm, to her spine, and down to somewhere low in her abdomen. “Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”

“Not all yours,” she comments lightly, and revels in the way his grasp on her hand tightens ever-so-slightly at the words.

[gotham-ruaidh]

Who I Am - a 7x07 and 7x08 story

Set in the “Tell Me About Your Family” universe – where William visits the new Big House at Fraser’s Ridge together with Jamie, Claire, Brianna and Roger and their kids, Ian and Rachel and wee Oggy, Fanny, and Jenny Fraser Murray, in an imagined Book 9-ish timeline. He’s known that Jamie is his father for some time, but this is his first “family” visit.

Catch up on the story here:

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10

--

“I thought ye said ye were raised on a farm.”

Jenny Fraser Murray reached across to undo the knot that William had somehow tangled in the wool. “Here. Ye pull the strands apart like this, and then ye wind them together.”

William flushed but kept his head bent to his work. “I lived on my stepfather’s plantation for a time, but I was always busy riding or studying with my tutors or helping him entertain guests. I’m afraid I’m not much of a farmer, Auntie Jenny.”

She tsked. “So I assume ye never learned to clickit, either?”

“Pardon?”

“To make socks or scarves wi’ yarn using needles.”

Carefully he wound the strands of raw wool. “To knit? No, I never learned that either. Though I do remember my grandmother Dunsany had a basket full of yarn and thread and thimbles in her sitting room. I got into it once when I was a boy and she was not too happy with me.”

Jenny expertly tied off a handful of raw wool, and carefully took the wool from William’s hands. “Jamie and I learned to clickit from our Mam when we were bairns. My husband Ian – we grew up together, and one year for Hogmanay before we were courting, we knit each other hats wi’out knowing.” She smiled at the memory. “No’ like I needed one, mind. But it was a nice gift all the same.”

William gathered the tied-off piles of wool from the table and began stacking them on the tray Jenny had brought out onto the porch. “Was that before or after he lost his leg?”

“Oh, before. And he didnae lose the whole leg, just the part below the knee. He took grapeshot to the leg when he and Jamie were mercenaries in Flanders.”

That got William’s attention. “Da was a mercenary?”

Jenny nodded, stretching the cramp out of her neck and shoulders. “Aye, for the year after Father died. He had a price on his heid, so he needed to be somewhere else. He spoke French, so the choice was simple.” She turned to look at her nephew. “Did ye not ken that? Weel, I suppose there’s still a lot you don’t ken about my brother.”

William pursed his lips. “I didn’t know, no. It must have been his first time serving with an army, I suppose. And a foreign one, too.”

They watched a hawk glide soundlessly over the mountain. Smiled at Jem and Germaine sitting high up in the oak tree at the edge of the dooryard, swinging their legs from a high branch.

“He’s no’ spoken to me about it. Ever. Ian came home wounded, but Jamie didnae come back to Lallybroch wi’ him, on account of him being a wanted man. It took months until Ian was back on his feet, and while I mended him he told me a few things here and there about what it was like with the army. But then we turned back to running Lallybroch, and we were marrit not too long afterward, so…”

William stood, and extended a hand to help Jenny to her feet. Carefully he gathered the tray, now heaped high with wool. “Where may I take this for you, Auntie?”

--

It was a fine, crisp late summer evening. Roger supervised Jem, Germaine, Mandy, and Fanny washing the supper dishes at the trough in the dooryard, taking advantage of the last light. Jenny and Brianna’s voices drifted from somewhere inside the house, planning for the next day’s spinning of the raw wool into yarn. Ian and Rachel had retreated to their cabin with Oggy, who had fussed quite a bit during supper and clearly needed somewhere quiet to rest.

“Here.” William looked up to see his father holding out a pewter cup, took it, and shifted a bit on the bench to allow room for Jamie to sit beside him.

“I still can’t believe how peaceful it is here,” William remarked, watching the last rays of sun touch the treetops on the mountain.

“Aye. I’ve a short list of things I’m most happy about in my life. Getting the grant for this land is on it.” Jamie held out his own pewter cup, and William tapped it. “Slainte.”

“Slan-juh,” William echoed, taking a sip, feeling proud he did not immediately grimace.

Jamie smiled. “Good lad. We’ll have ye speaking the Gaidhlig fluently before too long.”

“You speak French?”

Jamie frowned, a bit surprised at the sudden question. “I do. And the Latin and Greek, a bit of Cherokee, and a wee bit of Chinese as weel.” He sipped his whisky. “And you, wee William? You must have the Latin and Greek, if your education was as good as Lord John has told me.”

“Yes. And French, and now some of the Prussian language as well.”

“Of course, on account of the Hessians.”

William nodded. Sipped his whisky. “I’m asking because Auntie Jenny told me today that you had served as a mercenary.”

“In Flanders. Aye. That was a long time ago.”

“Was that your first time serving in an army?”

Jamie stretched out his long legs, exposing his kneecaps as the drapes of the kilt fell away, pocked with scars.

“It was. I didnae have much choice, mind you. I had escaped from the English at Fort William, in the Highlands. I was being held for murdering an officer. I hadnae murdered him, mind you, but there was no reasoning with the garrison commander. That man had had me flogged twice in the space of a week, after all.”

William’s eyes bugged at this information.

Claire emerged onto the porch, medical apron tied over her skirts. “There you are. Is now a good time?”

Jamie shifted his pewter cup to his left hand, and extended his right hand over the rail of the bench. Claire pulled up a chair so that Jamie’s four-fingered hand lay in her lap, and pulled a jar out of a pocket.

William blinked, remembering his manners, and craned his neck to see. “What’s that?”

Claire opened the jar and set it between her knees. “It’s a salve I make for Jamie, on account of the pain he still feels in his hand. Helps to loosen the tension. Especially on days like today when I know he’s been using it too much.”

“Near every bone in this hand was broken when I was no’ much older than you,” Jamie explained casually, grimacing a bit as Claire’s sure fingers kneaded the salve into the tissue. “Pained me for years. And then at Saratoga I injured it again. Both times, Claire mended me. She promised me I’d have a working hand, and I do.”

“My first real surgery, this hand was,” she murmured, massaging the palm with both thumbs.

Jamie leaned over to kiss her forehead.

William cleared his throat. “I knew that Saratoga was not your first battle.”

“But it was yours,” Jamie interjected.

William took a sip of whisky. “Yes. I – I thought I would be better prepared.”

“There’s nothing that can prepare you, lad. I was but twenty years old when I fought my first true battle. I’d done the occasional cattle raid here and there, so I thought I’d be ready.”

“I wager you weren’t.”

“No. Drilling is easy. Knowing what to do in the heat of battle, right after you see your comrades die in front of you…that’s something else entirely.”

William watched Fanny and Mandy carefully carry a stack of clean plates and pewter cups across the dooryard and back into the house. Smelled the sharp, clean tang of the ointment.

“I am ashamed to tell you this, but I do not think I acted too honorably in the first battle.”

“At Saratoga, you mean?”

William nodded, looking down at his hands. “I froze. My comrade…my friend…took a bullet right next to me. All I remember is General Fraser screaming at me, but I couldn’t hear any of the words.”

He watched Jamie’s hand slide on to his, gripping it. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, son. It’s the hell of a shock. I’ve experienced it myself, a time or two.”

“Prestonpans. Culloden. The war with the Regulators,” Claire murmured.

William swallowed. “I recovered, of course, and led the next charge. Though now I realize it was you and your men I was fighting, and that fact makes me absolutely sick to my stomach.”

Jamie squeezed his son’s hand. “Take that feeling, lad, and multiply it by the largest number ye can think of. And then you’ll know just how I felt, when in the second battle I shot your hat right off your heid.”

William raised his mug to his lips, watching the liquid slosh as his hand shook. Feeling his body seize up with tension. “Dear God.”

His vision swam. His pulse dropped.

Steps – Mother Claire. Gently taking away his mug, and resting her hands on his shoulders. “William. It’s all right. You’re here with us now. Breathe deep.”

Jamie’s hand gripping his. “In and out, lad. Follow me.”

Claire undoing his stock, settling a hand on the clammy back of his neck. “Slowly now.”

He did not know if it was minutes or hours that Jamie and Claire surrounded him, comforted him, soothed him.

But when he did return to himself, he was crying.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped.

Jamie squeezed his shoulder, and kissed his temple. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, lad.”

“It’s called a panic attack.” Claire felt his cheeks and forehead with the back of a cool hand. “Have you had them before?”

He licked his parched lips. “Yes, but never that strong. Only when I’m truly upset.”

“I can give you some guidance on what to do, should it happen again and we’re not here to help,” she said gently. “But there’s no cure. I’m sorry to tell you that even in my time, these things happen. Perhaps even more frequently.”

William swallowed. “Have men not discovered a way to end all wars, then?”

She knelt on the porch, still holding his pulse between her fingers. “I’m afraid not. You know that Jamie’s endured several wars. I endured a war of my own, in the years right before I met him. England and France and the Americans were all on the same side of this war, if you can believe it. Fighting the Prussians, in the fields of France.”

“They called it a world war,” Jamie added. “Men fighting each other wi’out swords, but with guns, and with bombs dropped from the sky.”

“I worked in an aid station, right at the edge of the combat zone.” Claire looked at him, but her eyes were so far away. “Patched up many men not too much older than you. So, I understand.”

William swallowed. “I – I am a soldier. Being a soldier is what I’ve aspired to for my whole life. To be like my stepfather, and the men in his family.”

Jamie and Claire listened, patient.

“But I like this – being with all of you, here in the quiet. Perhaps I’m more cut out to be a farmer. I love my men, but this life here…”

“We understand, William.” Jamie reached to cup his son’s cheek, for the first time in his life, as if he were a wee lad. “And we will love you and support you no matter what you choose.”

“The Americans will win this war, will they not?”

“They will,” Claire said softly. “Of that I’m certain.”

William set his jaw. “Perhaps I should start spending a lot more time here.”

“There’s nothing we’d love more. But you have a life outside of this place, William – we cannae keep you from it.”

“Being here, with all of you, this past week – it makes me wonder whether this life here is more important. I need more time with you, Da – and with you, Mother Claire – and with Brianna and her family. I need to know who I am.”

Jamie smiled. “You already do, lad.”

[wpnovakcrystal]

The LU Boys Play Monopoly - Part 3 - Positioning

Next part: Here!

(Shorter update, but I did done posted it because I wanted to post because I am not dead yet. So, h a v e.)

It was about 6:19 when everything had all been set up, Legend Noted. The board all set, the money all distributed, the deeds all stacked, and everyone had their pieces.

As Wind had confirmed, this was definitely a more authentic, older version. Perhaps an early 80s or even late 70s edition. Typical, given whose house this was. Still looked like Monopoly, though.

Legend got stuck with the hat. Could have been worse, could have been the thimble, he supposed; Wind could keep that one. Twilight naturally got the Dog, Time got the Horse, Sky a wheelbarrow for some reason, Wild the racecar, Wars the Iron, and Hyrule the Shoe.

"What a heel!"

Warriors joked as the latter took his piece, who then rolled his eyes.

"I mean if THAT'S what that piece means, it obviously should go to Legend instead." Four chimed from the doorway of the kitchen.

"HEY! You're not even playing, you cop-out. You don't get any say in this!" Legend retorted, receiving some small chuckles.

"If I'm not mistaken, that's a MAGICIAN'S Hat…. Are you the rabbit tucked inside?" Warriors insulted.

"I swear to absolute fuck-" Legend began before being drowned by louder, crueler laughter.

The game hadn't even started yet, and everyone was already violent.

"Perhaps we should start the game, so that the destruction occurs within the actual gameplay?" Hyrule quipped.

Time nodded, and had the first roll.

"Highest roll goes first, then it goes clockwise" He reminded. He rolled an unceremonious six before he passed the dice to Twilight, who was seated at his left.

With a shake, He rolled them onto the table.

"Seven. Not horrible." Twilight conceded as he handed the dice to Wind, who likewise rolled.

His pips came up with a total of five.

"Dang." He said, passing it along.

Warriors now had the dice, and Legend shot him a look of malice. The former smiled as they rolled to a stop.

"ELEVEN! Now we're talking!"

He boomed, congratulating himself while the others groaned. Four just rolled his eyes, still watching from the doorway.

After making another sour face, Legend took the dice and rolled away. His roll was also an eleven.

"HAH! Not so special now, are you?"

Legend said as his frown inverted into it's malicious opposite. Warriors would grumble, and simply mirror Leg's previous face in reply.

"Looks like we're going to have a tie-breaker round for these two."

Time remarked as Hyrule rolled another unnoteworthy six, the tie with Time disregarded in favor of the two angrier ones with the higher rolls.

Wild would also roll a seven, though it's tie was also quickly dismissed by Wind.

Last was Sky, and with a seemingly nice flick of his wrist arose an unsatisfactory three, Garnering some mockery from Leg, Wars, and Hyrule.

Now it was time for the tiebreaker, which made things all the more scary as they were already sitting next to each other. The last thing this party needed was an ACTUAL murder.

First was Wars' roll. With their clatter, the dice landed, and their pips came up a four.

"NO! THAT'S TOO LOW!! GYAAAAGH!!"

He cried, striking another laughing fit with the others. But now it was Legend's turn, and all he had to do was beat that measly little four of his.

He could do it, He WOULD do it.

He threw the dice down and watched them roll across the center of the board.

A three and a six; A solid nine.

"…. A NINE, HAH! Now WHAT was all that shit-talk you were just on about?"

Legend exclaimed in victory, rivaling Wars' previous outburst at the initial eleven. Time motioned for everyone to calm down, while the remaining boys once again roared in hysterics and anticipation for the upcoming battle.

"Now…. Let the game begin!" Wind cheered.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Intro | Part 2

[eladoobler]

thing i have written about Sentinel Melee. which includes a oc i have made for it

Sentinel Melee made by Pandora my girl and pal who is cool. she is awesome you shoudl ask her about sentinel melee

“Oh, help yourself to the juice if you want! It’ll take a little bit longer to finish over here!”— she hears Amber yell from the other side of the apartment.

Silver looks at the carton warily, grabbing and giving a weak shake, it feels… almost halfway empty. She looks down at her cup, it’s a somewhat fancy glass cup, it seems capable of holding a sizable amount of liquid, which is not good. Amber told her to help herself to it… but what if she was just being nice? Obviously she didn’t mean it with the idea of Silver just drinking all of it in one go, is this her favorite kind of juice? Grape? Why wouldn’t she have it if she didn’t like it? At the same time, the amount remaining inside almost feels… conservative, like it was and has been very precisely rationed to last, so even if it wasn’t her favorite kind of juice, what if she has nothing else? What if Silver takes too much and then when Amber comes in she isn’t satisfied by the amount she wants? What if Silver takes too little and Amber thinks she hates it?? Would she hate her? Would she feel offended??? Would she be sad????

“Okay, come on Silver, put yourself together, don’t freak out in her living room table,” — she tried willing herself mentally — “there’s probably a good solution for this, what if you pour a little bit, drank it, and then poured a bit more when she came in? Maybe she would think you drank a lot more than you did, and she would also drink a lot, yes! That’s it!”

Now with a plan in mind, she tried to pour, with as much care as possible, to pour the grape juice into the glass cup, which she also held to make sure it would slip and fall and break and then shatter and oh god her hands are shaking already why is she like this.

Right, how did she get here again?

Well, to cut a very dramatic and informative possible story chapter short, she was just going on about her business, dealing with an Incarnation. Until she got hit, and then before she could get hit again, some random girl showed up to finish it off, heal her up, and then began talking at her about how cool she looked, which made her too confused and overwhelmed to realise that as she was nodding along to whatever the other was saying, she agreed to come over with her to spend some time together.

So, now here she was, sipping a thimble of grape juice from a big cup, hoping that she’s not about to accidentally poke some other glass or liquid and spill or ruin everything in the very nice apartment that this girl has, because she is too nice to deserve even a fraction of something bad to happen to her.

And also something smells good.

“Hey Silvie!" — Amber walked into the room with two full plates — "Sorry for being so late with the food, i probably should've known it'd take a lot longer to cook for two instead of just one... i hope you didn't feel too bad waiting for it.”

“Oh, i uh- it’s fine- good, it’s alright, really.”

Her stomach growled, how long has it been since breakfast again? She didn’t really bring a watch everywhere, and when you need to fulfill Sentinel duties, carrying around a really important and fragile piece of glass is a certified way of making sure your trips to a fixer are more than biweekly.

“Oh goodie! So i’ll be honest here,” — she paused for a second looking away — “i… forgot to ask you what you wanted for dinner, so i kind of might’ve… made some sorta generic food?”

She isn’t sure to make of what Amber just said, until she puts down a plate filled with steaming rice, a juicy steak, and some beans to the side.

Silver stares at the grand meal before her with wide eyes and a slack jaw, she can’t recall the last time she had eaten anything that took more than maybe 2 minutes to cook, and much less believe that this is anywhere close to a generic meal.

Amber’s pouring of her own cup with water snaps her attention over to the other meal, which is similar to what she was eating, with the addition of some yellow floury looking stuff, more of the… meat liquid, and lettuce.

She grabs the utensils and looks down at the plate.

“If you don’t eat this, she’s gonna be even sadder and things will get awkward.”

With that thought in mind, she cuts off a small chunk off the steak, and slowly brought it to her mouth.

“Oh my god this tastes so good.” is what she thought as she chewed on it, and almost enthusiastically began to eat the rice as well, with it having a peculiar sweet taste to it as well.

Why didn’t she eat this more often? She wondered, before remembering her living situation, and exactly why she doesn’t bother with it.

“So Silvie! Whatcha like to do?” Amber suddenly spoke up.

“Hm?” was all the other girl could speak through her muffled mouth.

“Oh y’know, like besides doing Sentinel stuff? Like when you have fun?”

Silver put another mouthful of food in her mouth to try and delay the necessity of answering that, this girl is trying too hard, and being too nice about it, if she actually says something honest then she might bum her out, she’s… a guest, it’d be rude to barge into someones house and begin spewing tar all over the place. Actually you’ve decided you’re gonna really enjoy this mouthful of food, for no reason.

Amber stays as she is with one hand halfway resting across the table, and another on her chin, a smile as she stares into Silver — “...I like to paint.” — she says at last.

Silver gulps down the thoroughly chewed food up.

— “Sounds cool!” — she said immediately, not sure what to add — “do you like uh, sell them?” —

The other girl chuckled — “Oh no! I don’t think i could depart with any of them even if i intended one to be purely to sell!” — she paused for a second, looking away at something… behind Silver? — “Maybe i could like put up a poster for commissioners? I could probably make a few quick ones in that case.”

Silver looked behind herself, and saw a painting of a hillside looking over a town, it was… incredible, did… did Amber paint that??

“You… you did that!?” is what she lets outs loud, looking back, Amber has finished another mouthful, and is smiling.

“That one is one of my better favorites, i don’t really like to frame things since it seems so… stuck-up? But it was easier to just hang it like that than to use the canvas.”

“So... you paint like, nature? And stuff?”

“It is fun to paint nature, but i do paint lots of other stuff! I mostly use real life as a reference when im trying to understand something, like buildings and structures and like how clothes blend into each other mostly.”

“That’s cool.”

Right, this was going well, she was worried Amber was going to insist on asking her things, but if it’s just her talking about her own stuff, she… she can do this. Just eat the food, spend the time she has. Nod along to what she says and occasionally make responsive sounds of awe.

“...What do you eat at home?”

What?

“Huh?”

Amber’s face is different, she’s emoting something else as she says it. — “I just got curious is all, im glad you like my food, but the way you ate it almost seemed like...” — she stops to consider her words, — “Do you know how to cook?”

“I do, im not aimless in a kitchen.”

“But why do you not do it often?” — she assumes

“Hey! I never said that!” — Silver snaps back at her, voice wavering a bit in it’s tone — “And- and why does it matter? I’ve been fine eating what i have been.”

She frowns, you made her sad, you yelled at her.

“...Silvie, i was worried about you to be honest.”

You grip a shoulder tight. You’re a rotten guest. You should’ve just denied her before. Why does she care about you so much? You don’t know her. She barely knows you either, and you don’t want her to.

“...If you feel full enough, you can just give it to me, alright?”

“She feels like you didn’t like the food enough too!” — is what Silver thinks, looking down at the remaining plate in hand as a challenge, she grabs the fork and knife, and furiously ate all of it, even if it’s gone cold already.

...It still tasted pretty good.

And when she was done with the plate, she looked over at Amber and saw her barely cover up a smile with her hands.

“...What?” — oh god, what did she do wrong now?

“I could’ve reheated that.”

Silver mind goes through many excuses — “...It’s better cold.” — is what she decides on.

“Oh! Just like me then!”

“You what?”

“It’s mostly a habit i’ve picked up on, since i used to take a long time to eat meals, heh,” — she responds — “i got used to eating them cold, and now it’s kind of got a charm on its own to me!” — and she goes on — “Y’know, one time as a kid i spent a whole day eating lunch.”

“That can’t be true…” Silver says, mortified

“But it is!” — Amber says with delight — “My babysitter was a really sweet old lady and she didn’t know what to say or do when she saw me, so she just kinda… let me do it?”

She sounds like a problem child.

“You sound like a weird kid.”

“Oh yeah?” she said with a smug grin.

“Doesn’t seem like you got less weird though.”

“Aww, what about me do you find weird?”

Where is she meant to start?

“...Right, so you just randomly strike a conversation with a Sentinel you saw getting pummeled, and after you rescue them, you continue talking with them about random things, bring this person you don’t know home, and then… you give them dinner? For no reason at all?”

“I mean, do i need one?” Amber says, looking out a window the room had.

“Why would you do it if you didn’t have it?”

“...Well if i had to give one,” — she pauses, looking around the place, trying to not look at Silver’s eyes — “i guess i just wanted to be responsible for making someone happy, y’know?”

Silver stares at her, and Amber’s gaze flicks back to her as well.

“…You liked this, right?”

She stares, and for the first time, Silver doesn’t see the confidence she has held for most of their conversation, the smile is put on, she taps a finger on the table silently. She looks at Silver like she’s the only thing in the room left, she looks down for a second.

“...Yeah, i guess i did?”

Silver lets her arms relax on the table, looking back at Amber for a second, she is… glad, to have spent time here with her, with Silver, she doesn’t know why she did, and she almost says so before-

A pop song loudly rings out across the whole room, and Amber is quick to go and run off into another part of the apartment.

“Wait, you have something right now? What time is it?”

“Oh it’s only a leftover from stuff i had to do a long time ago! — she yells out from another room, the music stops — Also it’s… 17:47???” — she cried as she reentered the living room — “…I- i guess i lost track of time...”

It’s getting late, and her home is very far from here… yeah, it’s time. “I should get going home then.”

She got up from her chair, and approached the door, but before opening it, the other girl walked over to her, Silver looked up at her a bit confused.

“Before you go, can you pass me your number?” — she happily asked.

“Uh, it’s… i don’t have my phone on me.” — she dryly replied.

“I’ll just write mine down for you then!” — she excitedly said!

She walked over and ripped off a small paper from a notepad, writing it down faster than Silver could blink, and then walking back over, she grabbed both of her hands, and then carefully, gently pressed both of them with her own hands.

Her hands were soft, and she gave Silver a warm smile as she put the paper on her hand.

…What was that?

Silver walks down the hall to the elevator of the building, pressing the ground floor button on automatic. Before staring down at the paper again.

It was the phone number of Amber, with a cute doodle on the side representing herself smiling, curly brown hair simplistically done, both were made with a red pen.

Was… did she just make a friend?

Maybe it’s a bit too much of a stretch, it didn’t mean anything, she was so bubbly and nice, she likely has a ton of numbers, tons of friends and people she knows and talks to, she wasn’t… special.

But even so, she clutched the phone number in her hand and put it in the pocket of her hoodie.

She can give it a call later, or well, send a message knowing her more accurately.

And, although she doesn't think about it, a little smile is on her face imagining the idea of talking to her again.

[itsa-me-lily]

Work sucked and just...yeah.

Simon & Thimble playlist

MPS AU master playlist

Simon knew something was wrong as he shut the door behind him. Typically you had something playing; music or some sort video from the internet. But the inside of your home was quiet, and you were just laying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling in this solemn way. His first instinct screamed that something had happened with the pigs again, but a quick look told him that all three were fine, save for the staring they were doing. Probably wanted another treat if he had a guess. So at least the boys were safe. That just left everything else in the world...great.

He made a point to make as much noise taking off his boots as he could, just so he wouldn't startle you. Last thing he needed was you falling off the couch and hurting yourself. You didn't move much, just turning your head enough to look at him. He noticed that your eyes were red rimmed and it instantly made something in his chest tight. You'd been crying.

He was going to ignore the way it made him want to hunt down whatever or whoever did it.

"Everythin' alright?"

You sighed like the weight of the world was pressing down on your chest, looking back to the ceiling.

"It's stupid."

"Let me be the judge of that. I do work with Soap."

It didn't pull a full smile from your lips, but Simon could see the corner of your mouth twitch as he went to get himself a glass of water. Small victories and all that. He didn't rush you for an answer, letting the sound of the water faucet fill the space before the silence came again.

"They took the holiday party from me."

"Isn't it already December?"

At least it was the last time he checked, and from what he recalled of your ranting, you'd had that wrapped up a month prior.

"Next years. They want a fucking committee to plan it next time."

Simon was...confused. By his reason it seemed like it would be a win for you. You wouldn't have to deal with any kind of deadline or planning issues. All you had to do at the end of the day was just submit the bills. He must have taken too long to answer because you just sighed again, turning so you were facing the back of the cough.

Fuck.

Yeah to him at least it was kind of stupid for you to be all upset about some office holiday party. Planning them sounded like a pain in the ass. But you were upset and just ignoring it would be a dick move on his part. Not to mention he'd still have to deal with it, he liked sitting on the couch now and again.

Resisting the urge to sigh himself he took his cup over to sit on the ground at the end of the couch where your head was. He saw with his back to you. Maybe it'd make it easier for you.

"Come on. Explain it to me so I get it."

He could only imagine the look on your face. You probably had your brow furrowed, lips all puckered so it made your cheeks puff out a little.

"I worked really hard on the holiday parties."

Simon hummed, hoping it would encourage you to keep going.

"I made sure that it could work for everyone but it still isn't good enough."

He didn't expect for your voice to start to get creaky, like you were trying to talk through a throat full of tears. He also didn't expect it to feel like a stab to the heart.

"I'm trying to help take something off everyone's plate, make sure that its a nice way to end the year and they're just throwing it back in my face."

Oh. Oh no. Simon could hear a sniffle behind him. This was a terrible plan of his and he couldn't just tell you to just stuff it now could he?

"I'm not respected enough to do my job right, helping just ends up with people being angry with me. I'm so frustrated and I just want to be done with it all."

Simon was tempted to tell you that technically speaking, if you wanted, you could quit your job and just stay at home with the boys. He had enough saved. But he didn't. Didn't think it would actually solve the issue.

He let you both sit in the silence of it all for a while, until the sniffling dwindled back down.

"So what'cha gonna do."

"My job."

Well that didn't seem very satisfying to Simon at all.

"And just my job. No offering to do anything, no going out of my way. Follow the job description to the letter and not a single thing above it."

Simon should have fond it concerning how attractive he found the idea of you being spiteful. Well a little malicious compliance never hurt anyone right?

"Atta girl."

[clavissionary-position]

The Day Luke Got His Purple Shirt

Gilbert: Taa-daa~ What do we think?

Luke, age 19: Did ya make this?

Gilbert: Ahaha, be serious.

Luke: (searches for any hint of goth or lace on the shirt) Not bad. Goes with my green stuff so I guess it's alright.

Luke: But why's it so big?

Gilbert: Because I predict you'll reach a final height of 7 feet. Aren't you just the luckiest?

Luke: I haven't grown in years.

Gilbert: Only because Obsidian air limits the vertical growth of its residents. You'll sprout like a weed once you're back in Rhodolite.

Luke: Is that what ya tell yourself?

Gilbert: It's an empirical fact that 87% of my vertical development happened during my Rhodolite stay during my youth. My only regret in life is not conquering it during puberty.

Luke: ...Right. Well what about that cousin of yours or whatever? The Fifth Prince?

Gilbert: (smiles while scraping his fork across the table) That little teacup? Isn't it obvious? He'd have been the size of a thimble were it not for that hideously crisp croissant-infused Rhodolite air.

Luke: I can't tell if your jokin' or if this is actually what ya believe.

Gilbert: (ambiguous smile)

Luke: Cool. Thanks for the shirt. Is this your way of tellin' me you won't be paying for my clothing expenses anymore?

Gilbert: Not unless you join my sewing club.

Luke: For the last time, Gil. No. I like sewing alone. I know YOU like sewing alone.

Gilbert: Hehe, you're not wrong. But what if I told you I managed to convince the Third Prince of Rhodolite to join? Only a fool would pass up an opportunity like that, right?

Luke: More like coerced him probably. (groans) I'll think about it

Gilbert: Perfect. We meet twice every day.

Luke: Why.

[so-very-small]

A Late Night

A continuation of these two story snippets here and here, commissioned by the wonderful @belethlegwen ! I had such a fun time writing this!

ko-fi | patreon

--

The open bar doors did nothing to dissipate the heat in the air. The rural little town was never anything but hot and humid, even long after the sun went down and the bar fell empty. It was a late night, the weekends always had patrons lingering longer than usual, putting more work on the Bartender and the Barmaid's shoulders.

She was perched on the bar top, wiping down sticky puddles of spilled drinks, hauling old napkins across the polished wood to drop them in the trash. The soft sound of the cicadas outside kept her company, along with the Bartender. He was putting all the chairs up on the tables, reading the floor for a much needed mop. Despite trying to focus solely on her work, the Barmaid couldn't help but send over little glances, watching him lift chairs the size of entire buildings as if it weren't nothing.

(It was a little hypnotizing.)

(He was a little hypnotizing.)

The two always worked in tandem in a comfortable silence, as they always had since she moved there about six months ago. Giants had long since gone from intimidating to every day, but there was something specifically different about him. He made her nervous, but not in a bad way, not at all. She kept a careful watch of him from the corner of her eye, unable to deny the little buzz in her chest when he got a bit closer to the bar.

The Barmaid paused, lifting a hand to run a sleeve over her face. The day had been long. The heat was worse than it was back home, still sweltering even in the late hour. She took in a shaky breath, realizing just how long she had been working without a break. A small pang of dizziness hit her head, the foggy feeling reminding her Hey, hydration is important! A small thimble of water was on the other edge of the counter for that specific purpose, and she dropped the napkin in her hand so she could navigate over to it.

She made it about halfway.

Movement sent the dizziness into overdrive; stars burst in the corner of her vision, sweeping up into a black vignette. The bar grew hazy, and then she couldn't see at all, limbs failing her at the same second she went totally blind. She had the vague sensation of landing on something warm and calloused, and then all her senses went out entirely.

It could have been minutes, or seconds, but eventually her eyes did drift open. She blinked hazily a few times, a looming shadow blocking out the overhead lights of the bar. Two brown eyes took up her entire field of vision, staring down at her in intense scrutiny, worry making the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"Are you alright, darlin'?"

The Bartender's voice was low, intentionally soft, but it still felt overwhelming this close. She blinked once more, still returning to the waking world, putting her hands down by her sides to help prop herself up into a sitting position. Her small palms met warm, rough skin, and it's only then that she noticed the arch of his fingers over her, his pulse thrumming heavily underneath her in his palm.

(Another rush of dizziness fell over her, this one a bit different. This one prompted by the honey of his eyes, the closeness of his face.)

(Her heart skipped a beat or two.)

(He'd never held her before.)

"Yeah," she squeaked out, remembering he had asked a question, "Yes, sorry, I... I think the heat got to me."

The Bartender nodded, pulling her back from his face slightly. He frowned, eyes worriedly scanning her up and down, and she felt like a bug under a microscope. His gaze was damn near as overwhelming as the hot air. The man carefully pursed his lips, gently blowing over her. It was like a gentle gust of wind, chilly on her face and blowing back a few loose strands of her hair, slightly sweet with just the faintest hint of tobacco from his last smoke break. Goosebumps erupted over her skin, and she told herself it was just from the chill, and nothing else.

"Did that help any?" he whispered.

The Barmaid couldn't help but smile at his concern.

"Thank you," she said, because it was all she could think to say.

The Bartender smiled, lips pulling up into that familiar crooked grin. He stood straight, hand cradling her coming near to his chest, and he quickly crossed the distance to the bar. He picked up the thimble of water carefully, and handed it over to her. Her small hands brushed his fingertips as she took it, and it felt like itty bitty sparks dancing across her skin.

"There's a lil’ breeze outside," he said, glancing at the door. "I think we're both overdue for a break."

Finishing her sip of water, she nodded. Today had been far too long, and a few moments of respite were needed. His hand shifted slightly under her, cupping her more carefully as he drifted out of the bar, into the marginally cooler air outside. The breeze helped, if just a little. He took a seat on an old crate in front of the building, taking in the dead streets around him. No one else was awake or out; it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

"Would you rather my shoulder, or..?" he asked, not quite sure where to place the tiny woman.

"Is... is it alright if I stay in your hand?" she asked in turn, and quickly took another sip of water, hoping it'd conceal the flush in her cheeks.

The Bartender had no such thing to hide behind, and she saw the gentle pink that crossed his face. He nodded, smiling down at her, shifting his fingers lightly. She leaned back against them, never feeling more safe than she did in that moment.

"That's more than alright with me, darlin'."